Three days as promised, but on the fifth, Prince Zaki suffered a light head. A simple rise from Mazin’s ever chilling bed filled his head with air. He leant against a side table and waited for the world to stop spinning. The stone dining table seemed a world away when his mismatched eyes blinked open. Zaki stumbled towards the nearby washbasin, his legs buckling like a new-born fawn. The steaming water within seeped into his cheeks after splashing his face. It invigorated him, waking him up with its warmth.
It wasn’t only the drain from his self-immolation. Yesterday the kumkani put him through his paces, without a care for his drained body. Recovery was a struggle on two fronts, but he wouldn’t back down from training. He refused to ask Lihle to soften. Zaki stomped his way towards the dining table, where his first meal of the day awaited.
The oats were plain and without honey. They piled fresh bread beside vegetable soup, which was congealing. No meat, and nothing sweet, Ma’s doing, but he didn’t crave either of them. Zaki tasted the vegetable soup and shuddered at its low temperature. It wasn’t inedible, far from that.
“Are you sure you are ready to try again?” Dawn asked through their bond. His Tamed Sinha took to slumbering outside Mazin’s room. She didn’t say why, but he suspected it was to keep him resting. Beyond the three days he promised to Ma.
“That was only the soup.”
Despite his bond words, his hands trembled while clasping the bowl. Dawn’s concern trickled into him, but he still willed a candle to spark in his chest. It flickered, yet the strength and warmth were a blanket over him. His mind begged him to feed more to the candlelight within, to set his insides ablaze. If it wasn’t for Dawn’s nudge, he might have given in.
Zaki fought the temptation, then split the candlelight. They lingered in his chest and grew. The fire surged through his shoulders and down his biceps, growing in strength. Until they set his hands alight. Beneath his flesh, boiling his blood beneath his palms with pure power.
He tightened his grip on the bowl, and moments later the congealing soup warmed. It bubbled soon after and he lifted his hands away before it burned. Prince Zaki shuddered when he shut his eyes. His fingers pricked and tingled with the heat lingering in his hands. He squeezed them into fists and bit his lips, begging for the fire to dissipate. Zaki ground his teeth right until the burning strength withered. His hands remained warm, but not unnaturally so. Still, he tested them on his cheeks before returning to the soup. Only then did Dawn’s concern ease.
His breakfast was far from satisfying. Even with the warmth. He ruffled through Mazin’s clothing and found thickened clothes for sparring. Cleaning his teeth was a chore, but soon he departed Mazin’s gloomy room. Zaki tickled Dawn’s ears outside the doors and strode away through the passageways with her in tow.
Melina’s shield on his back, his khopesh on his waist, and his hands gloved. The murals of old Atum Ras lifted his spirits. His head, at least. Golden and red Tamed eyes followed him, his boots thudded upon the rich rugs below. Palace guards nodded when he passed them. Their ornate script decorated armour glimmered when the morning sun shone through the grand windows. Servants gave him a wide berth when they bowed. They gossiped often about his immolation. He was sure everyone within the palace knew what he was capable of.
The distant noise of Master Roole’s hammering took his attention away from his destination. It had been some time since he heard the man’s metal working. Not since he made their blades, Zaki wondered what beauty was being shaped now.
He turned right instead of continuing straight. Avoiding gardens and encumbered servants rushing back and forth, bearing fresh linens and sheets. Trays of clean goblets, crystal decanters and sloshing jugs. Bowls of fresh fruit watered his tongue, but the hammering becoming louder kept his boots kicking. Soon he burst through a side door and was welcomed by the winter morning sun.
Master Roole’s hammering ringed his ears, fire singed his nose, but the forge was still a turn away. Dawn shared her displeasure with the noise while she padded along behind him. The monstrous westerner hammered in rhythm, a pair of clashes before a gentle ping and then another pair of loud clashes.
Zaki stood at the open entrance to the forge and watched the drenched, burly back of the master smith. Roole’s freckled yet still pale flesh rippled with bulging strength after every hammer blow. It was a flat piece, nothing fancy yet, perhaps a breastplate.
Roole grunted and placed his hammer down. He stomped his way towards a water bucket to splash his face and arms with the cool water.
“Something special?” Zaki inquired.
“Great Beast boy!” Roole almost spilled the bucket when he spun around to meet him. Ash blotched his face, and the tip of his orange beard glowed like embers. “A sight for sore eyes aye lad, haven’t seen you in some time.”
“Heard your hammering.” Zaki craned his neck around the round man, who stepped in front of his anvil. “What are you making this time?”
“Am I only worth visiting when hammering metal?”
“It certainly catches my attention. You have an interesting duty to observe.”
“I hear you’ve been meddling with fire,”
“Now, now, I asked what you were making first.”
Roole’s pale eyes sparkled, and his lips twitched. He glanced back and unwrapped his autumn orange pony tail, letting his stringy singed hair flow down to his shoulders.
“A full set of armour, the breastplate is the last.”
“May I see the others?”
“You may not, at least not yet.”
Zaki rolled his eyes and won booming laughter from the master smith. He searched around the dark forge and saw nothing near enough to be called a well-crafted piece worthy of Roole’s talents.
“Keep your secrets, then. I was hoping to linger here for longer. If you’re going to stay silent, then I will disappear again.”
“Be my guest. I’m quite attached to this forge. Don’t want you burning it down, lad,” Roole slapped his chest, sounding like a thunderclap. He ringed his meaty hands in a towel and made his way towards Dawn. Her own laughter echoed through their bond in Zaki’s mind. She purred when Roole’s fingers belied their size and tickled her chin gently.
“I will remember that when I take my throne,” Zaki said.
“May Pharaoh Gawahir’s reign never end!”
Zaki grumbled and spun away as Master Roole returned to his forge. He strode away, with Dawn’s laughter echoing in his mind.
Prince Zaki arrived at the busy fighting rings. The side rings swarmed with new recruits. Not only Tamers. Spears, swords, axes, all thrusted and swung and hacked according to the shouts of the watching Tamers circling around them. There was one who stood tallest amongst them, a burly man with blacksteel sickles on his waist. Who shouted the commands and glistened in all his muscled glory beneath the morning sun. A Geb, he had the look.
He arrived at the grand fighting ring, which was left empty by the kumkani’s word. For Lihle stood on the border of the shaded wall ringing it, observing the training with his hands wrapped behind his back. Since Zaki returned to training, Lihle took to wearing more appropriate attire for sparring. Instead of his usual rich sashes and elaborate beadwork. It was obvious after the first day. When he was carried back to Mazin’s room. Whether it was the threat of imminent battle, making up for lost time, or perhaps displeasure with the Prince, Zaki didn’t know. The man had been tight-lipped.
“I wonder when we will march to battle,” Zaki muttered when he stood beside the Kumkani.
“Most are far from ready. Many will not return.”
“Duty of war.”
Lihle grunted and turned away, making his way into the fighting ring. Zaki noticed the buckets and covered trays waiting on the stone benches in the shade. Dawn took to lounging before them. He sniffed fruits and meat, along with water, then turned away to follow Lihle.
For a winter morning sun, its heat was reminiscent of the usual stifling warmth that oppressed the capital. Minus the humidity, thank the Beast, but even the occasional brisk wind was a brief respite. He strapped the grand door shield to his arm and drew his khopesh, while Lihle danced around the ring with his arms stretched.
“How did you wake up this morning?”
“Much better. The dizzy spells are brief.”
“Good,” Lihle drew his billao blades and spun around to face the prince.
Zaki drew a deep breath and raised his shield and khopesh. Lihle darted for him in a blink, humming his shield arm with a flurry of attacks. His script strengthened shield sung brutally, sparing him from Lihle’s lighting strikes. Zaki jabbed to give himself some respite, but it was futile.
His incumbent shoulder seared, and the arm behind the unyielding metal was dead. Lihle went high and low, forcing his screaming shoulder to work even more. With all his arm movement, and failing jabs and swipes, he forgot the explosions in his thighs. The fire within, but without the pleasure, and twice the needling pain burning from his joints to his muscles.
The hardened soil turned to slush beneath his boots. It drained him more to move than stand still, fodder for the kumkani’s billao. His face streamed with rivers of salty fatigue, and no breeze to cool them.
Enough!
Dawn’s groan was a speck in the back of his mind, and he ignored it. Zaki lashed out, swinging the shield out but leaving himself open. He wailed as he swung his khopesh, which was whipped from his grip when he realised he was on his knees. Bruised from the flats of Lihle’s billao, the kumkani ended his misery with a kick to his chest, forcing him to look up at the sky in shame.
“No.”
Not an angry one. Not even a disappointed one. It was too close to disinterest for the prince’s liking.
Zaki huffed on the ground, forcing strength back into himself. His chest burned with shame. He surged back to his feet, retrieved his blade as eyes prickled his back, mutters swam around the ring, but he forced them away to glare at the kumkani before him. Without a hint of fatigue on his face, despite his barrage moments ago. Save for a dribble of sweat running down his chiselled jaw. It fuelled the fire in Zaki’s chest.
“Are you ready?”
The prince acknowledged his question with a charge of his own. Behind his towering shield with his khopesh ready to strike. Lihle suffered the hammer blow of his shield, but used it against him, dancing away from the khopesh. Lihle’s face was calm but focused, despite the edge of his khopesh breezing past his flesh.
Zaki growled and swung his shield again, leaving himself open once more. The kumkani charged into the opening, barrelling into his open chest with his shoulder, snatching away all of his air. He disarmed him again, slapped his arm and then his hip, before sweeping his balance away. Zaki thudded onto his back harder than before, grunting with stifled anger.
“Again.”
Zaki burned at the repeated indifference on Lihle’s face. He flicked the sweat from the flats of his billao and cleared his throat. He turned his back on the prince while he twirled his blades. Dawn’s subtle irritation didn’t help.
The third bout was far more embarrassing. He ate dirt at the end of a shorter clash. More wild attacks that seldom troubled the kumkani. He knew he was sloppy, but the fire in his chest was uncontrollable. Zaki yearned to wipe the boredom from the kumkani, disappointment would have been better.
Their fourth clash left him on his knees, with more of his body throbbing after the kumkani’s constant slapping. Zaki would have taken slices, stabbings even, not this. He questioned whether the kumkani had been toying with Mazin and himself for years.
By his sixth, brief failure, Zaki tossed aside Melina’s shield and trembled with fatigue across from the kumkani. This time, he won the disappointment, but it worsened his mood beyond the constant boredom that preceded it.
“What are you doing?”
Zaki raised his khopesh in both hands and stepped towards Lihle. The kumkani sheathed his blades and stilled the prince’s approach.
“What is your purpose here?”
“To train with the shield.”
“Do you believe you have training left? In the past few months, what have I taught you? Can you recall any new lessons I’ve imparted on you?”
Lihle’s exasperation wounded him beyond the flats of his billao. Zaki refused to avert his gaze, however, despite his flesh screaming to peel off in shame.
“You are here to be a warrior. You are teaching yourself to think on your feet. I won’t be there to guide you in an actual fight. You give in to pride and make foolish choices.”
“Better than being hammered.”
“Throughout these bouts, when were you untouched?”
Zaki knew the right answer. He didn’t back down, but refused to give it to the kumkani.
“I’ll take your silence as knowing.”
“Fine, we go again.”
“No,” Lihle rubbed his hands together and strode past Zaki. “That’s enough for today, lest you develop bad habits.”
Zaki hadn’t a chance to complain, for Dawn’s attention turned towards the palace. The metallic approach of a palace guard turned him around as well. In her glimmering gold scale, strengthened and near perfect. She bowed at the edge of the fighting ring and removed her roaring Sinha helm.
“Kumkani Lihle, Prince Zaki. News awaits in the war room.”
Zaki stood in the cramped, stuffy war room, stiff and hiding in one corner. His skin caked with drying sweat, sourness ruined the usual mouldy scent floating about. He leant against an empty marble pedestal, observing the open tension shared amongst the monarchs. Ma sat on the edge of Da’s desk, doing well to hide her concern. Da sat hunched over, with his fingers forming a pyramid. His eyes a world away.
Inkosi Musa paced the cramped width of the room, cursing and muttering under his breath. While the kumkani lounged on a chair, his legs outstretched, hand massaging the bridge of his nose. The prince found it difficult to share in their mood, for what they promised to him had been many years in the making.
Prince General, finally, Dawn shared her pride from outside the war room’s doors.
“Say it again,” Musa stilled his pacing and turned towards Da.
“Tigers marching south from the Boor Province, Jaguars in tow, emperor and king missing, however.”
Musa resumed his pacing, and silence fell over them all again. The inkosi’s sandals made a soft patter on the stones. Ma glided towards a side table to fill a crystal glass with wine. She sipped in silence, returning to her seat at the corner of Da’s desk.
“With the raids north of the Gaur, the emperor has made it clear.”
“We should assume Jun’s next target is Mandla, if he already has Raban with him,” Lihle said.
“Surely the chief has more sense than to join them?”
“I warned you of this Gawahir, I warned you,” Musa stopped before Da’s desk again, arms crossed, creasing his already rumpled plain shirt. “Mandla is no fool, but he is bloodthirsty. He won’t see a deranged emperor asking for allies. He will see the chance to rid us of our thrones and rule as the sole monarch of all Cituva.”
“What would you have done?” Ma asked. “Force another clan into our war and add to the bloodshed? You two chose your side and we are grateful for your support, but the emperor is well within his right to do the same.”
“It seems this magnanimity has done more harm than good. Two decades ago, it dragged you away from the emperor’s doorstep after driving him back into Bag’Jagaal. And now again, with the chance to squeeze the emperor into submission once and for all, you allow him to gather allies of his own. One might believe this war is,”
“You’re not helping Musa,” Lihle interrupted before the accusation came. The inkosi’s words sounded more insulting without anger. Zaki didn’t think the man was capable of raising his voice. “We must make our own moves now. My army waits in Ci’Ped.”
“I need you here, Lihle, and you Musa,” Da rose from his desk. “I would have a united front once we declare a return to open war to the masses. Lessen the chaos that would follow.”
“You intend for your son to lead two armies alone?”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“If you have any doubts about my ability, Kumkani, I would have you say it to me.” Zaki said from his corner, crossing his arms to hide the sting.
Lihle glanced at him, as if he were a brat wailing against common sense, then turned away.
“I would have one of my own, for the Leopards will heed our own. Sinalo will go in my stead.”
“I must agree,” Musa chimed in, turning the prince’s sting into a stab. The inkosi paused for a moment, rubbing his stubble. “Anele will go in my name.”
No amount of teeth grinding glaring would return Lihle’s gaze back onto Zaki, but the prince kept at it. Even as Da muttered his agreement. Ma watched Zaki the entire time. Her gentle gaze caressed his cheek. She posed a silent inquiry with a raised eyebrow, but Zaki turned away.
“If that is all, I would like to bathe,” Zaki said.
He stomped out of the war room and Dawn padded behind him. His fingers dug into both of his palms as he circled the seven thrones.
Servants gave him a wide berth in the grey stone passageways. While he passed the gardens of Sanctuary, his anger dissipated, and the weight of Melina’s shield surged upon his back. Zaki sought the solitude of Mazin’s room, defeated.
The clanging, hammering, and cutting worsened his mood. Not even the surprising citrus aroma lifted him. He burst through Mazin’s closed doors and the citrus exploded from the source. A grey ghost lingered around a side table.
The force of the prince’s entry brought a squeal to her lips. She knocked over a few goblets. They clanged instead of shattering on the stone floor. Her grey clothes hugged her figure too well.
“Forgive me, Prince,” she spun around, trembling, after fixing her mess. Her hazel eyes sparkled with joy at him, her lips twitched towards a smile, but it vanished all together and she bowed her head. “Forgive me Prince Zaki.”
Far too young, and much too beautiful compared to the usual greys that scurried around the palace. He frowned at her lowered head, watching her quiver like a new-born fawn.
“Do I know you, girl?”
“No… no Prince, at least I do not know. Uh, my name is Cyrea, Prince, if it pleases you.”
“You were the one carrying my brother that night, weren’t you?”
“It is as you say, Prince, duty demanded it.”
“Well, continue with your duty,” Zaki stepped away from the doors and watched her skitter away. She left behind her citrus scent, but Zaki was quick to forget it when Dawn filled his mind with the prospect of being Prince General.
There wasn’t much fanfare during the following days. Da delayed the announcement to the nobles, let alone the city folk in the districts below. Yet mutters of open war spread within the grey stone passageways, mural decorated and not. From within the ethereal gardens of Sanctuary, spreading into every nook and cranny, every recess, and high vantage. It wouldn’t surprise him if the masses knew already.
His training improved. There was no chance of repeating mistakes. But his patience, Lihle’s demand for patience, was more draining than anything else in recent memory. More than fighting his demanding and uncontrollable immolation, for what the kumkani forced from him was so against his instincts. To burrow his heels into the earth and suffer a whirlwind barrage from his billao.
Zaki suffered behind the absorbing weight of Melina’s protection, shield arm numb, with the khopesh encumbered limb itching to strike out. Discipline in all things, Lihle spoke those words often, but now his dual short swords battered the mantra into him. His arm yearned for a counter that wasn’t there, to lash out and leave him open for more of Lihle’s disappointment.
Yet there was light at the end of the oppressive torment, a strange one but one that surprised the prince when he earned it. Perspiration born from strain, strain! From the dual wielder himself. Zaki once believed the man was beyond such petty experiences. Beyond the sensations of lesser warriors. There was still nothing to be done and Lihle showed open fatigue. At least without opening himself to outright loss.
Prince Zaki stole himself from his drifting throughs and his eyes wandered around the ever chilly quarters of his twin. They had restored his room, the ornate furniture replaced with fresher pieces. The smell was wrong; the clay keeping the stone together, filled the air with its pungent stink. There was also the sweat of the workers, going about their duty to restore the room in quick fashion, lingering amongst other foreign scents. He lingered in Mazin’s room for the faint whiff of his ashy scent that never left.
He slept longer after his sparring. His body wasn’t where it should be. The dizzy spells were fractional, as fleeting as their presence, but they occurred still. He sank into the cushioned dining chair and ran his finger along the surface of the table. There was citrus about. That girl frequented Mazin’s quarters for her duties.
“A secret admirer,” Dawn said.
“Not a secret now. The girl would undress before him if she had the chance.”
“Girl? She must be older than you.”
Zaki grunted and waved her away with a hand. His attention shifted towards the golden ironvine ring on his finger. It moved with little effort, despite hugging his finger tight. The jewel was strange. Nothing he had experienced before. Not keeping the sensations of the materials combining to make this magic. He whipped it off his finger, and it grew between his thumb and forefinger. There was a thumping warmth coursing through it, a subtle heartbeat for his flesh.
Dawn sent a surge of energy through him as he drifted into the warmth of the ironvine ring. He jumped when it sparkled along his spine.
“What was that?” Zaki asked.
“It entranced you.”
“And?”
“I thought you would want to be aware of your next guest.”
Zaki snarled at the lounging Sinha, but soon after her words came a gentle pitter patter at the other end of the passage. The scent was plain, a perfume of bland clay. He was on his feet when the recognition hit him.
“Prince Zaki, Lady Jazmin Isis for you,” the palace guard announced before opening the doors after a pause.
She strode in with her head held high, a sprinkle of bronze on her sharp cheekbones. There was a smattering of ink about her, blotches on her dainty fingers.
“Prince,” she curtsied when the doors closed behind her.
“Jazmin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
She straightened her plain, stained cloth that did nothing for her figure. There was discomfort on her face, but nothing from her scent.
“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you.”
“It was inevitable.”
“Of course,” it warmed him to see her dark pearls for eyes sparkle. She stood rooted at the entrance, but her eyes wandered around Mazin’s room. “I thought to find you in your own quarters, missing your brother?”
“What do you want?”
“A Prince General requires a scribe, and here she stands.”
“I know how to read and write, thank you very much,” Zaki turned away before his snarl showed.
He stomped towards a side table and filled a crystal glass with wine.
“Your literacy is irrelevant, your duties will multiply, and you will be grateful to have me scribbling at your side. No thank you,” Jazmin waved away his offer.
“I must be fortunate to have a noble woman clinging to my tail.”
“One of many I’m sure,” Jazmin smirked, and the prince drowned his irritation with his wine. “I won’t linger. I wished to soften the blow.”
Jazmin Isis bowed this time, but he caught her smirk before she rose with a passive face and spun away from him. Zaki froze before the doors, irritable and a little joyous as well. A surprise, he had no knowledge that generals kept scribes. It seemed like an invention from Ma or Da, perhaps necessary, but why her?
“Do not pretend that she does not bring you pleasure with her mere presence,” Dawn said with a chuckle.
There wasn't time to argue. Another rushed to Mazin’s room. A grey ghost scurried in with his head low.
“Prince Zaki, the pharaohs have summoned you to the great hall.”
The walk towards the hall was quiet. Silence through the mural swarmed walls of the lion section. Melina’s golden shield thumped his back. Not even the gardens yielded any noise, beyond the usual rustling of the magical rainbow array of flowers. There were no specks of grey cloth amongst the grey stone.
The silence gave way to a distant din. A buzz that rose as he neared the final passageway leading to the great hall. Never beyond a constant buzz, not unlike the bazaars within the lion district. With no one speaking beyond hushed voices, but the tight collection of all the nobles within the hall was almost always as loud as shouting merchants. Now the excitement within the great hall drowned out the city, forcing its way through the grand open windows of the palace.
Dawn padded like a golden ghost beside him, easing her way into his waiting hand. She purred as the golden scaled glory of the pair of palace guards glimmered. His chest filled with the excitement from the great hall.
“Perhaps it would appear better to arrive mounted?” Dawn padded ahead, eyeing him with her yellow gold eyes.
He realised his sparring wools were far too plain, and under perfumed. Not even his ornate weapons saved him. Zaki reached for his brow and found only skin, no circlet.
“I need a lot of help.”
Dawn chuckled when she lowered herself. Zaki made himself comfortable and jolted upright when their bond was at its strongest. Sparks struck up his spine from Dawn, and he was ready to charge through the palace’s walls.
His Tamed Sinha charged for the doors. The pair of palace guards kept the doors open, nodding up at him.
Dawn strode into the ocean of eyes within the great hall. The overwhelming excitement shifted, and a hush came over the swarm of nobles. Anticipation, that’s what it was. Despite the grand crowd filling the crystalline hall, it paled compared to his welling confidence. There was no telling whether it was Dawn’s or his own, but they felt it together.
He puffed his chest. The multicoloured, face painted ocean parted to allow Dawn an open path. Towards the centre, right before the elevated seven thrones, where Ma and Da stood, with Pride lounging at her heels. The kumkani and inkosi stood before their own thrones, appearing as regal as their titles demanded.
A ring of palace guards surrounded another pair of Tamers standing beside their Tamed. One he recognised, a Leopard who was always around the Kumkani. Handsome, hard faced with a growing beard. The Tamed Cituva beside Sinalo was lean and so pale yellow it was almost white. Stained by blotches of orange ringed with black.
The other must have been Inkosi Musa’s Anele. Built like a warrior. Her arms rippled with midnight umber definition. Anele’s skin was spotless, glowing like a jewel, putting the crystalline great hall to shame. Her Tamed was small and lean. Dark lines decorated the Cali Cituva’s face, ringing around and stretching away from its curvaceous yellow eyes. It was more orange than yellow or gold. Though it rippled with muscles to match its Tamer.
Prince Zaki dismounted beside Anele, and her emerald eyes snatched a chunk of his courage when she glanced at him. A pale gash ran down from her right brow, over her eye, curling down her cheek before closing on her jaw. She nodded at him and Zaki did the same to herself and Sinalo. He turned towards the seven thrones before them and wrapped his arms behind, under Melina’s shield.
“Finally, we are all gathered together here,” Da rose from his throne, joining Ma on her feet, the only one forced to stand. “We have grave news to share with you all.”
Da had a way with his voice. There was strength when he spoke. His Essence wasn't grand enough to make him a Tamer, but what little he had enhanced his voice.
“War marches towards us,” the nobles all drowned him out. Their shouting was chaotic. The words were not hopeful. Some of it was downright treasonous, turning Zaki’s and the nearby Tamers’ heads back towards them.
Cowards, the lot of them, it took an army of them to speak their mind. Yet they grovelled when alone, kissing the stones that Da stood upon.
“Lord Isis?”
“What?”
“Are you forgetting your experience with Lord Isis?”
“How do you,” Zaki trailed off. Of course, Dawn knew. Their bond continued to surprise him.
Da struggled to return peace to the great hall and slumped back into his stone throne. Lihle fiddled with his pipe in hand, while Musa massaged the bridge of his nose. Ma sat on the armrest, stifling her yawn with a ringed hand.
It was Pride who rose, towering above the seated monarchs on all fours. A grand mass of a Sinha, with a glorious mane stretching down from him. Zaki had his hands over his ears long before Ma’s Tamed widened its cavernous jaws. Pride unleashed a stone cracking roar that battered through his palms, rumbling the crystalline marble beneath his boots. The beast’s jaws shut, but the roar reverberated still, dropping many nobles to their knees. He turned their shouting into whimpers and moans, some curled into balls.
Zaki’s ears ringed and whined, but Pride was back to lounge down at Ma’s feet. Along with the kumkani, she made a few faces. The moaning stopped. Da rose again, despite the pain on his face.
“Now is not the time for panic!”
Da resumed at a louder register than before. It did nothing to ease Zaki’s ear ringing.
“The emperor is likely to march for Bil'Faridh, but he is in the west. Quiet! With the Jaguars clinging to his tail.”
The dissent was enough to drown Da again. Zaki resisted the urge to glance back, following the stoicism of his companions. Who remained chest out, and proud, fixing unyielding gazes towards the monarchs above. He glanced at Anele for a moment and followed a bead of sweat running down from her bald head, along the pale gash until it drained into her long lashes.
Zaki jumped from a sudden bond nudge from Dawn and cleared his throat.
“What was that for?”
“You were drooling,” Dawn snorted.
Zaki grumbled and turned back towards the seven thrones.
“Now is the time for calm preparation. We will be ready to meet the Tigers and their cronies, but not alone! The Leopards and the Cheetahs will stand by us.”
For once there was quiet amongst the nobles, scattered chatter and dissent, but mostly quiet. The growing scent of fear amongst them was a surprise, however.
“The kumkani and inkosi will remain here with us to shore up Bil’Faridh. We will send master Tamers in their stead. In mine, I name Prince Zaki, general!”
Zaki tightened up again and puffed up his chest. Scattered cheers and polite applause followed the announcement. Far less than he expected, and too many mutters of derision. He refused to let it dampen his pride, Ma’s beaming smile from above aided him.
It was the ring of black and gold caped palace guards who played the role of silencer instead of Pride this time. A collection of hammering spear ends down upon the marble floor. An audible crack that was nowhere near Pride’s roar, but sufficient to return the silence amongst the nobles moments before.
“Prince General Zaki will,”
“What of Prince Mazin?”
“Why is he missing from this honourable promotion?”
“Yes!”
Everyone turned towards the cowards amongst the colourful ocean of sycophantic nobles.
“He isn’t here, you idiot!” Another noble shouted.
“The prince has gone north to bond.”
“Well, forgive me for being deaf to beasts!”
“Mazin deserves his own glory!”
Chaos ensued between the two groups from nothing, a clash for nothing, from nothing. Zaki clenched his fist. Those same fools who feared his brother now fought for him. As long as it was against Atum Ra, they fought.
Zaki ignored Dawn’s nudging. His Tamed Sinha pestered, however, as he gazed between the capable shoulders of the palace guards, now turned to face the arguing nobles. There were more black and gold capes ready for the worst. They snatched his glory away from him. Dawn continued with her bond nudges.
“Enough!” Zaki snapped.
“Think better of your brother.”
“What?”
“Think better of your brother.”
“Don’t let their nonsense get to you,” Ma whispered after peppering his cheeks with her love. Zaki lingered until she went too far with her affection. Unable to enjoy it because of the others around. He nodded at her and she ended her smothering. Melina’s shield felt cumbersome in the tight space, and his khopesh was an itch on his waist.
Zaki turned around from behind Da’s desk and eyed the others. Da leant on the other side, waiting. Gazsi Isis was nearby, eyeing the wine decanters. Lihle stood close beside Sinalo, sharing a strange look with him. Musa yawned while lounging beside a still stoic Anele. And finally, there was a burly muscled man, one he didn’t recognise, beyond him being a Geb. With hazel-green eyes and a perfect jaw.
“Now that we are safe from the chaos, let us speak on details,” Da said when Zaki stood at the stone map table.
“How many can we expect, Kumkani, Inkosi?” Gazsi asked instead. Zaki glanced at Da, but the man didn’t react.
“Not less than ten thousand,” Musa yawned again, eyes shut. Before Zaki could speak up. The immeasurable perfection of Gazsi’s face soured to the prince, since his business with that harlot.
“Undecided for now, Ci’Ped would be the next stage on the emperor’s journey south in the west, and I cannot risk emptying my hold and leaving it open for his madness and Mandla.”
“The chieftain has already joined the emperor?”
“Guaranteed, if not confirmed yet, I know our distant cousin and he would not miss this chance.”
Gazsi grunted at Lihle’s words, then turned towards Da.
“We don’t have the numbers to protect each district. Nor keep the emperor away from Sinh’Chattaan again. With the desertion numbers,”
“Desertion?” Ma stepped forward.
“It happened over the past decade. Faster than our barracks can churn out replacements.”
Zaki caught Da’s grimace at the word, no scent, but the grimace was enough. Ma did well to shove away her initial surprise, but she spoke nothing more after Gazsi explained. It annoyed the prince that Da allowed the man to speak like this. This was a pharaoh’s duty.
“Lord Geb can spare only five thousand from Sinh’Chattaan and An’Shar, if needed,” the stranger Geb muttered from the doors. Zaki noted the empty weapon holders on his waist, then suddenly felt silly for being the only one in the room bearing weapons.
“Enough to shore up every district.” Gazsi said.
“Do we need to drain the Gaur so drastically? The emperor is in the west. Bil’Faridh will be the anvil for his hammer stroke,” Ma said.
Prince Zaki watched Da when the silence lingered in the war room. Passive and immovable, his eyes far away. It ground Zaki’s teeth, but his mind churned. Dawn tried her best to keep him patient from outside the war room, but he was quick to ignore her.
“Doo’Sara, send word to your brother. Tell him to send half the number, but keep the others ready. Remain vigilant of our northern border and An’Shar. Perhaps send a few more hundred to the town.”
“Yes, Pharaoh,” the Tamer’s Council Geb bowed and rushed from the war room.
“Gazsi, prepare the city, use your influence on the lion district, and it should spread.”
Gazsi Isis nodded and strode from the war room. The departure was a subtle respite for Zaki. He loosened his back. His fine hairs bowed after minutes of tension.
“Right, what I say here cannot leave any of us,” Da said. “Your movements cannot give away our plans too soon. And you three must make haste. I believe Jun Da means to sack the capital alone. But him knowing of our plans may change that.”
He made his way towards the map table, and for once Musa became attentive, rising from his lazy lounging.
“Right. Where to begin?”