The Rage of Dragons (The Burning Books #1) (18 page)

The plan, as best as Tau could judge, was a good one. Scale Njere would fight on the desert battlefield and that meant it would be a brawl. The desert had several man-made dunes, but there were few places to hide or maneuver. To take advantage of that, Umqondisi Njere opted for a brute-force approach, with one catch. He split the scale into four units.

The units would attack as one, but each unit was also given a direction on the compass. When the Enervator took aim, the units would run in the direction of their compass point. Tau had learned that a Gifted could make use of her gifts only once every quarter span or so, and given that limitation, the goal was to minimize her effect on the battle by minimizing the number of men she could hit.

The scale’s inkokeli was Itembe. He was Governor caste from Kigambe and a strong fighter.

“Plan’s good,” said Uduak as the scale took the field.

“As good as it can be when you’re fighting in a wide-open desert,” Hadith agreed.

Themba picked his teeth. “Not gonna matter.”

“Shut it,” Yaw told him.

“You’ll see,” Themba said.

Most of the men had taken a seat on the ground just beyond the battlefield. Tau was standing. He scanned the Crags, hoping, praying, to find Kellan, and not knowing what he’d do if he did.

“Tau, you’re making me nervous,” Hadith said. “Sit.”

Tau ignored him.

“Here they go!” said Themba as an aqondise blew a war horn, signaling the beginning of the contest.

Scale Njere’s fifty-four Lessers and their opponents, the eighteen Nobles from the citadel along with their Enervator, ran onto the battlefield from opposite sides. The Indlovu broke into two teams, both making for dunes large enough to conceal their movements. The Enervator, dressed in the standard black robes, had been assigned two bodyguards.

It was forbidden and punishable by death to attack a Gifted, but coming within a blade’s length of one during a skirmish counted as a kill. The “killed” Gifted had to leave the field, depriving her team of her power. The bodyguards were there to repel any who dared come close.

“Interesting,” said Hadith. “Itembe has all four units going for the side with the Gifted.”

Uduak grunted.

“It’s clever,” Hadith said. “If he can get there fast enough, he can take her out of play.” Hadith leaned forward and Tau felt himself do the same as Scale Njere streamed up the near side of the dune, which hid just nine Indlovu and the one Gifted.

The twelve fastest runners in the scale made it to the top and were met by three Indlovu. This won’t take long, thought Tau. Bronze flashed, and in two breaths, Tau saw four Ihashe dropped to the churned soil, one of them a bloody mess.

The three men from the citadel, all still standing, were joined by two more. The Nobles engaged the eight closest Ihashe as the rest of Scale Njere closed the distance. The Nobles smashed their way through the eight Lessers and closed ranks to take on the newcomers. Tau couldn’t believe what he was seeing but thought the Nobles’ luck had run its course; the Scale Njere fighters were together on the dune and attacking.

The other unit of Nobles, seeing their sword brothers facing all of Scale Njere, rushed to join the fight. They came for their opponents’ rear side, likely intending to split the scale’s attention in two. It was then that the Gifted, flanked by her two bodyguards, surfaced.

She waited until Scale Njere was committed to its attack, and her hands came up. The Indlovu guarding her stepped back, not wanting to be grazed by the energy she was preparing to blast.

Scale Njere saw her and scattered. It wasn’t organized and it wasn’t to predetermined compass points. The men just ran, clumping as they fled. They didn’t get far before the Gifted fired.

To Tau it looked like heat pulsed from her fingers in a thick, unbroken, and shimmering wave that shot across the battlefield, dropping any man it touched. Itembe was one of them, falling to his knees, his face locked in terror. The Enervator lowered her arms, and less than a full breath had passed, but the affected men didn’t rise.

A scattered few, wild-eyed and frantic, came back to themselves somewhat. They made as if to stand, weapons in hand, but were still useless as they threw their heads back and forth, eyes rolling, trapped in the afterimages of unseen horrors. The rest were worse. Some had gone prostrate, faces in the sand, as others rocked on their knees, whimpering or sobbing.

There was also Itembe, holding himself up on his hands, staring off at nothing. He was slack-jawed, the veins on his neck tensed to the point of bursting. Then, back hunched, Itembe craned his head to peer at the sky, stretched his mouth wide, and screamed.

The sound was raw, terrible, and it ripped from Itembe’s throat like stitching torn from a wound. The howl chilled Tau. It chilled him to his marrow.

There wasn’t much to the skirmish after that. As the men struck by the Gifted’s powers struggled to recover, the Nobles tore through the rest of Scale Njere. By the time the afflicted Ihashe were on their feet, it was a simple thing for the Nobles to send them back to the dirt. Just two Indlovu had been “killed” in the skirmish, and every last man from Scale Njere had been eliminated.

“Hmm,” said Themba. “They did better than I thought. Got two Nobles.”

“Nceku,” said Hadith, no force behind the curse. He looked crestfallen.

Tau glanced at Uduak. The big man was shaken.

“Not good,” Uduak rumbled. “Not good.”

“Let’s go,” Anan said. “We’ll help the injured off the field.”

Tau didn’t know why he did it, but he went straight to Itembe. He helped the initiate to his feet and saw the large lump on the side of his head where a Noble had struck him. Itembe didn’t seem to notice the injury.

As Tau walked him over to the Sah priests, Itembe spoke, his words tripping over each other. “Is it over?”

“It is.”

“The demons, they’re real.”

“I know,” Tau said.

“They got me. I couldn’t stop them. They fell on me with claws and teeth, ripped my skin, tore the eyes from my head, and I could still see them! I watched them cut my stomach open, pulling the ropes of my guts from my body. I could see them, and the pain…” Itembe snatched at Tau’s tunic, bunching the worn material in frantic fingers. “Help me!”

“It’s over.”

“Then why can I still see them?”

Tau jerked free of Itembe’s grasp. “What?”

“Easy, Itembe.” Umqondisi Njere had come himself for his student. “Easy.”

Tau watched until Njere got Itembe into the priests’ healing tent.

“Itembe got it bad,” Hadith said, stepping up beside him.

“Demons had enough time to tear into him.”

Hadith rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “It breaks people.”

“They almost got me,” Tau said.

“Neh?”

“The ones at Daba,” Tau told him. “They came for me. I’ve never been so scared. My father pulled me out of the Gifted’s wave right before they got me.”

“Lucky. That was war. The Gifted would have held the hedeni, and you, in Isihogo for as long as possible.”

“He pulled me back…”

Hadith clapped Tau on the shoulder. “Your father’s a good man.”

“He’s dead,” said Tau, walking back to the rest of the scale.

They watched another skirmish, this one without Enervators. The Indlovu adjusted for the lack of Gifted by fielding half a scale against a full scale from the Northern Isikolo. Tau had met only a few northerners and, on the march over, had looked forward to seeing them fight.

After watching the Indlovu crush his brothers, he no longer felt eager. Tau understood the point of the games. The Nobles were bigger, stronger, and faster than the Lessers. True, the skirmishes between them were meant to train the Omehi for war, but they were also meant to remind the Lessers of their place.

The scale from the north fought the Nobles, who numbered half their men, on the grasslands battleground. Without the aid of a Gifted, the Indlovu lost a third of their fighters before the final Lesser fell. The initiates around Tau acted like it was a triumph, cheering their northern brethren’s efforts. Tau didn’t see anything worth cheering. A loss was a loss, and managing to beat one-third of your enemy when you doubled their number was pitiful.

Jayyed, Tau thought, had raised them up with well-spoken words about effort, superior training, and winning, but the reality was in front of him, and it was undeniable. The Nobles had natural-born advantages, and Tau wasn’t sure those advantages could be overcome.

He’d hoped to see Kellan, hoped to deliver swift justice to the citadel initiate. And Tau had spent night after night picturing his eventual duel with Dejen, how he’d kill the Ingonyama and then demand that Abasi face him. The path had seemed clear until Tau saw Nobles fighting Lessers.

Jayyed approached. “Tastes rotten, doesn’t it?”

Tau thought it did. “You didn’t tell us the truth.”

“Didn’t I?”

“We can’t beat them.”

“Not yet. They use men from all three cycles in each third or half scale they field. We need to get better first.”

“They’ll snap our scale like dry firewood.”

“I wanted all of you to see this before you fought in your first skirmish. Most umqondisi disagree. They prefer their initiates to come in blind. Every Lesser knows Indlovu are incredible fighters, but, the thinking goes, our new initiates have the best chance to perform well if they don’t know how outclassed they are.”

Jayyed shook his head. “I won’t have my men ignorant. When you fight for me, you’ll do it with eyes open. You’ll know the odds and understand the challenges. I’ll point you to victory, but it’s you who has to get there.”

Tau wasn’t interested in Jayyed’s easy words. “It’s a farce,” he said. “They use this to keep us in our place. They know we won’t win, that we can’t. They hold skirmishes, they have the Queen’s Melee, and we’re told Ihashe and Indlovu rise on talent. Noble, Lesser, they say it doesn’t matter on the fields of war.” Tau waved a hand across the grasslands, where men from the North were still being helped away. “It matters. It matters in war as much as it does everywhere else, and everything they do is to remind us of that.”

“So your eyes are open. You see the world for what it is. Is it enough? The world as it is?”

Tau was frustrated and had been bold with his umqondisi. He tempered his answer and lowered his eyes, out of respect. “You know it isn’t,” he said, wanting to say much more.

“And perhaps it never will be. But, while we breathe, the best of us never stop trying to make it better, even if just by a little.” Jayyed turned away, shouting to the rest of the scale. “The skirmishes are done. The rest of the day is yours. I will go to Citadel City to visit friends I have not seen in too long. As you’ve likely heard, there are drinking houses and markets where you can waste your stipend. There are the citadels, the Guardian Keep, and, yes. Yes, yes, yes. There are comfort lodges. Be smart, be safe; we march home at nightfall.”

The men cheered, excited to see the famed city, drink, couple with the women of its renowned comfort lodges, and stand in front of the Guardian Keep, the locus of military power, where the Guardian Council decided where and when it would spend their lives. Tau wanted nothing to do with any of it.

“Come.” Uduak wrapped a heavy arm over Tau, pulling him forward. “The thirst has me again.”

Themba sauntered close. “For what? Drink or women?” he said, making a lewd motion.

“I have no interest in that,” Uduak told the much smaller man.

“Looking as you do, they’d have none in you either.” Themba laughed, sprinting away as Uduak lunged for him.

“Tiny man, big mouth,” Uduak said.

“He’s taller than me,” Tau muttered.

“You are tiny too,” Uduak told him, returning his arm to Tau’s shoulders and pulling him down the Crags, toward Citadel City, a place that turned Nobles into gods of war and women into weapons.

Citadel City was not what Tau expected. It was small, less than a tenth the size of Kigambe, and looked like a cross between a military base and a religious mission. On the Crags-facing side, it was protected by a thick wall that stood as tall as the average Noble. On the side facing toward the Wrist, with its days-distant but ever-present war, the wall was three times a Noble’s height. The city itself, underpopulated given its footprint, was spacious, its skyline dominated by four towering domes, each rising high enough to be seen from three thousand strides.

“That one must be the Indlovu Citadel,” said Hadith, pointing to the closest dome, flying a black-on-black flag. “The one beside it will be the Gifted Citadel; beyond them both, that’s the Guardian Keep; and furthest back, that’ll be the Sah Citadel, house of the Goddess.”

Tau stared at the Gifted Citadel. Its domes were black and gold, and what he could see from outside the walls was both impressive and beautiful. It made him think of Zuri. He wondered if she’d run from her fate. He missed her, and with his mind going to painful places, he pushed the past from his thoughts, making sure to pray for her safety first.

“The first city of the Chosen,” Yaw said, voice hushed.

“First on Xidda,” Hadith said. “We had an empire on Osonte. We numbered in the millions and millions.”

“You really… believe that?” coughed Chinedu.

“Believe it? It’s our history.”

“That’d make the Cull history too,” Yaw said, leaving Hadith with no good answer.

The five men, along with the rest of Scale Jayyed, entered the city. There were locals bustling to and fro, but the paths could not be called crowded. Tau saw some Nobles, more Lessers, and a few Proven, but no Drudge. The last made sense; the only Drudge allowed into the holy city were the ones assigned to the comfort lodges.

Also unusual, the city’s buildings were all single story. Well, not all. The citadels stretched for the sky and the tallest of them was the bloodred Guardian Keep. It was not just domed; it had pointed spires that reminded Tau of blades.

“The four pillars that keep us, Chosen of the Goddess, protected and safe against all who would do us harm,” intoned Hadith. “The Sah, Indlovu, Gifted, and Guardian Citadels.”

“Four? What are we, then?” asked Yaw.

Hadith smiled. “Us? You mean Lessers? We’re the fodder that feeds the Chosen military’s insatiable appetite.”

Themba had sidled up during Hadith’s preaching. “We distract the hedeni with our dying, so the Indlovu and Gifted can kill ’em back,” he explained.

“You again?” Yaw said.

Themba showed teeth, shrugged, and sauntered away.

“Where first?” asked Chinedu, managing to get through both words without hacking.

Uduak pointed at one of the long buildings that sat just inside the city’s gates. “Drink.”

Hadith was already on his way. “I won’t argue.”

The drinking house was rough adobe, with more of its interior open to the street than walled in. It was smoky and had a dirt floor covered with scattered straw. It reeked of sweat, the tang of overcooked vegetables, and the unmistakable stink of brewed masmas.

Jayyed’s five, accompanied by Themba, who clung to them like a flea, and Oyibo, who stared at everything with moon eyes, found an empty table and sat. The houseman came over in short order with seven jugs of masmas. He laid them on the table and was about to walk away when Hadith stopped him.

“You have Jirza gaum?”

The houseman, skin so dark he could be half-dragon, looked Hadith up and down, then nodded.

“I’ll take that,” Hadith told him. The houseman sniffed, scooped up one of the jugs, and went to get Hadith his drink.

“Gaum?” Tau asked. After his last experience with it, he couldn’t imagine drinking the stuff for pleasure.

“He’s trying to be fancy,” said Themba. “In Jirza, they don’t drink gaum at the manhood ceremony only. They mix a couple drops of the scorpion’s poison with heated water. It makes it weak enough to sip, like you’re a proper Noble.”

Tau screwed up his face.

“It’s better than rotted cactus milk,” said Hadith, peering at the yellowish white brew in Tau’s jug.

“Lies.” Uduak said, lifting his freshly emptied jug into the air, signaling the houseman to bring another.

“To Goddess and queen,” said Themba, raising his jug.

“To Goddess and queen,” they all said, guzzling back the thick and lukewarm liquor.

Tau swallowed some wrong, coughed, and burped. The others laughed. He glared and burped again, and Yaw guffawed, spitting a mouthful of masmas on the table as the houseman returned with Hadith’s watered-down gaum and Uduak’s second jug. The houseman gave Yaw a look for dirtying up his table and Hadith tried to smooth it by thanking him graciously. The houseman pursed his lips but left, saying nothing. He wasn’t five strides distant when the initiates burst out laughing. Tau too. He couldn’t help it, and it felt good.

“Empty,” said Uduak, glaring into his jug like it had offended him.

Tau stole a look at the small purse on his belt. He had enough of his stipend to carry the circle. “On me,” he said, turning toward the houseman and raising a hand.

“A blue Noble, this one!” said Hadith, grinning.

That annoyed Tau, and he was going to make his annoyance clear, when he saw her. She was walking down the street. His hand dropped, his mouth fell open, and it felt like he couldn’t move. He had to be dreaming… but she was real. Zuri was here, in Citadel City, and in the black robes of the Gifted.

“Ordering?” asked Uduak.

Tau dropped his coin purse on the table and walked out of the drinking house.

Chinedu called after him. “Tau?”

Themba must have seen her first. “Leave him. He saw a girl. Anyway, he left his money, and like the man said, the circle is on him.”

As Tau got to the street, he heard Hadith’s reply. “That’s not a girl. That’s a Gifted.”

It was her. Tau was several strides back, but there was no mistaking her figure or her gait. It was Zuri.

He called to her, still feeling like he was in a dream. She turned at her name and his knees went weak. Memories, history, the life he had wanted to live and lead with her, it came flooding back in a torrent that threatened to knock him flat.

“Tau?”

“It’s me,” he said, going to her, reaching out for her, praying she wouldn’t reject him. She let him take her hands, and the soft, warm skin of her palms and fingers soothed him, calmed the rage in him faster and more completely than the drink and the jokes could ever have done.

“It’s you,” she said. “It’s really you.” And then she brought him pain. “Did you… did you kill him? Are you trying to kill them?” There was fear in her voice. “Is that why you’re here?”

Tau stiffened, letting her hands go. “It’s not,” he said. The admission stung, but he forced himself through all of it. “I’m not here to find them. I… I’m not ready.”

She nodded as if she understood, as if she was trying to understand. “Lekan, though?”

Tau didn’t know what to say, and he could feel her eyes tracing his scar.

“Ekon told me what Lekan did to Anya and her family,” Zuri said, her voice little more than a hush.

He’d almost forgotten his scar. He’d almost forgotten Lekan. “Lekan…” He trailed off. What could he say?

Zuri seemed to take her answer from his hesitation. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you… for that.”

Tau didn’t want to talk about Lekan. “You’re here?” he asked. “A Gifted? I thought—”

“I was afraid to become this. I guess I was more afraid of running away on my own.”

He couldn’t tell if her tone held an accusation. “I had nothing—”

“Of course,” she said too quickly, brushing his unfinished excuse away.

“I don’t know this place. Is there somewhere… I would like to talk.”

“Of course,” she said again. She began to reach for his hand, to hold it, and to lead him. She stopped herself, paused, and said, “Follow me.”

Tau followed. They didn’t go far. There was a circle just a couple of paths away from the drinking house. At the circle’s center was a small fountain that was so dry it looked like it had never seen water. Along the periphery, near the adobe buildings that formed the circle’s walls, were stone benches. Other than an old Proven sleeping on the bench with the most shade, the circle was empty.

Zuri led him to the bench farthest from the man. She sat and he joined her.

“It doesn’t feel real,” she said.

“It doesn’t,” Tau told her. “Zuri”—it was good to say her name—“how long have you been in Citadel City?”

“Two moon cycles. They took me… I left not long after you did.” She looked at his sword and clothes. He was wearing the slate-gray uniform the isikolo provided for all initiates. “You’re an Ihashe?”

“I’m an initiate,” Tau said, unable to ignore the question in her voice. “As an Ihashe, I can duel Kellan Okar.”

“Kellan Okar?” she asked, before realization came. “One of the men who—”

“He’s a third-cycle Indlovu initiate. I can duel him within the law. Then, when I graduate and become a military man, I can demand a blood-duel of Abasi Odili.”

Zuri’s eyes widened. “The guardian councillor? He’ll have a Body, an Ingonyama. Did you know that?”

Her question made his plan seem mad, impossible. He refused to let her see his doubt. “I do.”

“Tau…” Zuri shook her head, and her eyes slipped to his scar again. It was too close to pity.

“They murdered my father!”

“And will your death, to the same man’s blade, bring him back?”

“I have to do this.”

“I see,” she said, and Tau knew she didn’t.

“How are you?” he asked, changing the topic. “How are you, here?”

She offered him a tight smile. “I’m well. It’s both better and worse than I expected.”

Tau tried to lift her spirits. “You outrank Umbusi Onai.”

Her smile grew. “I am looking forward to seeing her again and asking her to wash my underthings, for once.”

Tau laughed. It was forced, but the tension between them eased.

“Did you hear about Jabari?” she asked.

Tau didn’t think the name would affect him as much as it did. “Jabari? What happened? Is he well?”

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. He tested in the North. He passed.”

“He’s in the city?”

“Somewhere.”

Two of the most important people in his life had, somehow, found their way to this strange city of domes, gifts, and violence. “Have you seen him?” Tau asked.

“No. Not yet.”

“If you do, will you tell him…” Tau had no idea what he could possibly say to Jabari. “Never mind.” Zuri eyes softened and she gave him a little smile. More pity he didn’t want. “Do they have you doing witchcraft already?” he asked, hoping to lift some of the dark around them.

Zuri guffawed and covered her mouth, eyes gleaming. “You heathen! Not witchcraft. Gifts!”

“Ah yes, gifts. Of course.”

Her smile was large and real. “And yes, they do. I’m still learning, but I’m doing well. Very well.” Her chin lifted with pride. “I’m one of the strongest in my cycle. Can you believe it? Me?”

“I believe it,” Tau told her.

The compliment made her look away, pleased and shy in her pleasure. “I’ve hoped for this day,” she said.

Tau hadn’t dared hope, but he nodded. Zuri reached for his hand. He met her halfway and their fingers touched. She looked up at him, a new question on her face. He tried to read it but heard footsteps and laughter. Zuri snatched her hand away as three Indlovu, first cycles by the look of them, came into the circle. They were drunk. Tau tensed.

The first Indlovu, two heads taller than Tau and half again as heavy, noticed them first. Zuri’s black robes stood out, identifying her as Gifted. The Noble thumped a fist into his chest, saluting her. That was when he got a good look at Tau.

“Lady Gifted,” he said, “you are well?”

“Thank you, Initiate, I am.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. The Indlovu wanted to do more, say more, but wasn’t certain enough of protocol to push the issue. He tried another tact. “May we escort you home, my lady? Are we worthy?”

“Ever worthy, as are all men of the Indlovu Citadel. However, I am not on my way home, but I thank you again. Good evening and may the Goddess smile upon you.”

The other Indlovu were watching Tau, their hands close to their swords. Tau fought the instinct to reach for his weapon.

“And may She smile on you as well,” the lead Indlovu said, turning his attention to Tau. “The sun is setting, little Lesser. Time to run home.”

Tau’s hands itched. He pictured drawing his bronze and attacking but knew he’d die before bleeding the first one. He held himself as still as he could and nodded his assent. It wasn’t enough, and the man waited, his huge hand sliding along his belt toward his sword.

There was nothing else for it. Tau stood. “It is late, nkosi. Thank you.” He bowed to Zuri. “Lady Gifted, your advice and time have been more than I deserve.”

Zuri was tense too, but she had a part to play if violence was to be avoided. “It is our duty to serve in what ways we can.”

Tau bowed again and walked away from her. He heard the Indlovu walking closer, believed they planned to attack him as soon as he was out of Zuri’s sight, but they stopped and Tau heard the Indlovu talking about the pleasant coolness of the evening. The man meant to stay with her, to be sure Tau wouldn’t come back.

Tau had few reasonable choices, and so he returned to the drinking house, grinding his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache. He saw the others as they were leaving.

“Tau!” Yaw called.

Hadith smiled when he saw Tau and threw something across the distance. Tau snatched it out of the air. It was his purse, empty.

“Two circles!” Hadith said. “Had enough for two circles.”

“On us, next time,” Uduak said.

Themba wobbled into view. “I’m drunk.”

“A nice long march will sort that out,” Hadith told him, making Themba grimace.

“Tau? You well?” Yaw asked, while Oyibo blinked at him, his eyes bleary and round as a spice mortar.

Tau wasn’t. He nodded anyway. “Fine.” He moved alongside the men and they left the city, heading for the meeting place.