The redness in the south of the Chhaa Province continued, and the moisture he once tasted in the air vanished. Prince Zaki spent hours beneath the baking sun, whether sweating on Dawn’s back, or stomping upon the hard, unforgiving scarlet clay. He licked his dry lips, stretching his leftover water.
His initial ride was a comfortable one, sipping away while the moisture hung in the air. The day of rest softened him too far, and now he regretted his earlier gluttony.
Zaki dared another sip of the coolness within his heavy water-skin. Snatching it away before his greed drained more. The prince kept the water dancing on his dry tongue until the coolness warmed. It dried halfway down his throat when he swallowed. He fought the overwhelming urge to take a second sip and resumed his lip licking.
He adjusted his hood when the horrendous humidity slid it off his head. His helm bounced on his thigh atop Dawn, who was skipping ahead without a hint of perspiration. She had the decency not to mock him beyond the occasional flutter of humour.
A nonstop ride. The oppressive sun above shattered him with regret. Though there was hardly any shade around, for more than a day now, and after a night slashing at them with a merciless chill. It tempted him to strap Melina’s shield over his head. The makeshift hood from a torn shirt would have to do for the moment, his limbs and torso baked beneath his armour.
He soured with every renewed stream of sweat. The old stink washed away to be replaced by a stronger one. No one complained, other than his mind. His flesh itched, and it pricked him to be unable to bathe. The best he could manage was shifting, scratching without his fingers, lest he dirty his nails.
“Of all the things to worry about, you think of your nails.” Dawn said. He kicked her with his heels, a waste of moisture, and it sharpened her mockery.
Midday lugged its way towards evening as they descended a valley between awfully dry red clay cliffs. Climbable on either side, thanks mostly to the dead roots and overhanging skeletal trees protruding from the ominous cracks. What worried him most was how it left them open for an ambush.
“There are no enemies here, boy.”
“A prince must prepare for anything.”
Dawn’s moan was little more than condescending, but he smiled.
The setting sun blazed its last fire directly into their face. There was no easing in its blazing fury, despite its fall into the west. A nourishing warmth for him, but his eyes struggled to stay open in the direct light.
Master Sinalo called for haste as a sharp turn came. When the stifling heat became dry ice, along with the clear night’s darkness. The makeshift head wrap, hardened by his sweat, was now a shield against the growing cold. It had been some time since Dawn stretched her limbs. To have the slicing wind whistling in his ears, his helm clattering upon his scaled thigh.
Dawn’s fatigue struck him when the road rose out of the valley. She dampened the inside of his legs. As his concern grew, so did her assurances rush to calm him.
The Tamer army came upon a plateau. Finally, the redness gave way to brown foliage, and thorn trees not entirely skeletal. Moisture returned to Zaki’s tongue, and the red clay darkened, tightening its gaping cracks.
Master Sinalo announced for an end and the prince didn’t need a second invitation to leap off Dawn. They made camp. Other than the patrolling dark Tamers, there was no one else to keep watch.
Exhaustion took over, and the biting cold punished. Prince Zaki shivered as he unfurled his bedroll beside a lounging Dawn. No energy to set a tent, like most others.
All he wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t care to search for Jazmin, or the two masters. Rest for his depleted limbs. Sleep was swift in answering his call.
The prince awoke within a ring of lavender. A variety of shades from pale to the darkest of purples. Darkness seeped through the gaps, inching closer.
Zaki surged to his feet once he recognised the dream. His awareness heightened. His eyes dropped to the greener than green grass below. He wiggled his bare toes in the nightmare grass. The trickery dared to comfort him before the horror to follow.
He ground his teeth when he looked up, seeing nothing but green grass ahead. Instead of the white tent with her glorious golden shield, there was only more lavender, with the darkness seeping between the tight formations. His anger, which saved whatever dared to torment him from an avalanche of foul language, glued his teeth together.
His fingers dug into his palms until his nails drew blood. Nude for their enjoyment, but he wouldn’t give them more than his stifled anger.
“This is not of your making.”
Zaki spun around in search of the speaker. The words bounced around the lushness as if he stood within a dome. Beast tongue, with no source.
His setting changed.
The lushness remained, but the grass darkened. Darkwoods ringed around him between giant moss-stained boulders, all ringing a small campsite.
There was a blazing campfire in the centre of three, flickering its heat, soundlessly. He sat across from one. Another’s presence ticked the back of his neck, but his attention focused on the one across from him.
The silver moonlight focused on her from behind, glimmering through the darkwood branches to spotlight her. She had the straightest black hair he had ever seen. He watched until she raised her head towards him. Her right eye was puffy and red, her face sun kissed, dark for a Tiger like her. Despite her mournful expression, a smile stretched her full lips. But it snatched him away before he understood anything.
A blink later and Prince Zaki stood amongst red clay and yellow brown foliage. He blinked again and there was a strange lifeless greyness about. One that reminded him of memory walking.
His mismatched eyes danced around in search of frozen figures. A clue towards whose memories he invaded. There was no one else but himself. He lifted his hands and saw nothing.
“Finally, I have found you.”
The same echoing beast tongue bounced around unseen walls.
A figure shrouded in warping shadows appeared. Stepping down unseen steps to stand as tall as him. It was impossible to place the eyes on the stranger's face.
“What is this?”
Zaki’s lips moved, but the words sprouted from his mind. Slicing out of his forehead and clawing free. He spoke as if it were a bond after taking a moment to recover.
“What have you done to me?”
“Nothing. I did not pull you into the void, to my surprise. Another did… curious.”
“The void? This is the void?”
“We cannot linger. I did not expect to chase you. There was no time for privacy.”
“Let me out!”
“Do not ride for Ci’Ped. I will send a rider with a message. When you awaken, speak with your generals, do not sow mistrust amongst your numbers. That is not my intention.”
“Whoever you are, speak plainly!”
Zaki’s rage returned, unaided by the discomfort of this strangeness. This was a spy or a Leopard Tamer. But why?
“Forgive the lack of courtesy. I could not risk…”
The shadowed figure faded like storm clouds burst by the midday sun. Their words echoed in the strange chamber. Then the ground vanished beneath him. His screams didn’t escape his lips.
Prince Zaki awoke to early morning darkness. He snatched at Dawn beside him and the Sinha grunted, slapping him with her tail. His eyes blinked away the remnants of the swirling shadows, revealing the scattering of makeshift tents belonging to the Tamers who attempted to erect them.
He sat up as his heart slowed. Dawn stirred, but his reassurance through their bond sent her back snoring.
Zaki licked his dry lips and fumbled around for his water-skin. He drained the cool water in a flash, for the dryness returned almost immediately. His cracked lips were slow in healing, and his tongue stung the raw flesh.
The prince groaned to his feet, blinking at the campfires flickering beside slumbering Tamers, and lounging Tamed. He fumbled with the straps, enjoying the albeit lightweight of his armour falling off his torso. It clonked down onto his bedroll and lifted a puff of loose clay from the ground below. The scaled golden ochre tasset weighed as much as a silk skirt, but his thighs felt free once it followed his breastplate to the ground.
Zaki stretched the tightness from his limbs while removing his pauldrons. His bracers and shin guards remained above his well-worn clothes. Days of sweat and travel hardened the once rich linens. He couldn’t imagine how awful he smelled, for even his enhanced nose had grown used to his own odour.
There were mutters of another, smaller lake towards the south, where the darkness swallowed the clear starlit night sky. The work of the patrolling dark Tamers, whose presence wasn’t beyond him, despite his eyes unable to make out more than silhouettes. Occasionally, he spotted flashes of red eyes blinking at him.
Zaki piled his armour beside Melina’s glorious door shield. He wiped the rare stain on each piece before snatching up his sheathed khopesh. A chill came over him when he glanced back towards the deepening shadows in the south, where the lake water awaited.
There was always a scent of ash to comfort him whenever the deep, unnatural darkness was near. The ash was more of Mazin’s making, a warning of ruby and the aroma of ash.
“That is not a trait amongst the Dark.”
“What?”
“That, what you call ash, is the name you gave the comfort his scent provided.”
Zaki frowned at Dawn. His annoyance almost sparked a reply, but her laughter danced in their bond. He removed the remaining pieces of his armour, then hesitated with his ironvine ring, before deciding to keep it. He strapped his khopesh to his waist with added vigour. Empty skins in hand, he braced himself to step into the darkness.
His initial strides were forceful. He was stoic of face, hiding his subtle fear as he delved deeper. Memories of the stranger from his dream, or the void, as the figure claimed, played tricks with his eyes. He saw the swirling shadows everywhere, glaring down at him with torment on its mind.
Hope remained on the subtle tingle of the approaching sun. Though winter delayed its coming, its pinpricks of warmth grew. Zaki’s head rose with his courage, burning away the darkness daring to intimidate him.
The patrolling dark Tamers revealed themselves as the darkness melted away. Their acknowledging nods were courteous enough, though he expected little. He was not their prince. The Cheetahs were their own people, with their own rulers. Zaki was well aware of the potential discomfort his presence, his elevated station amongst them, might have posed. Duty was all he would expect of them for now.
A few dark Cali Cituva lounged around a grand skeletal thorn tree, beside a trio of Tamers muttering amongst themselves. Their armour was dyed black to match their Tamed, with streaks of orange ochre upon the iron reinforced leather.
“Prince,” One of them turned towards him. “Have you come for the lake water?”
“I have.”
He whipped off his feathered helm and strode towards him, a captain.
“Allow me please, Prince.”
“I can fill my own skins. Thank you very much.”
“I know, but this is more a matter of convenience. This lake is very much a watering hole for Tamed. We know the, shall I say, the untainted locations of the lake.”
He was tall, with a rugged handsomeness that demanded his attention. His oiled beard glittered in the darkness. Head shaved clean, and face littered with an assortment of pale scars.
“May I?” He offered.
“What do I call you, Captain?”
“Bhekani,” He took the offered water-skin. “I won’t be long.”
Zaki watched him stride away, helm donned once more, towards the tree. He continued for another bank of the lake, and soon vanished from his sight.
The eyes of the remaining Tamers never fell on him, but he felt their attention. He made his way to the closest bank of the lake, slowly sinking into the damp mud with every step, and knelt.
It was quiet, other than the breeze, muttering Tamers and grunting Tamed. There was nothing. The lake water was calm and dark, barely reflecting the stars above. Occasionally the breeze picked up to ripple the water, disturbing his reflection.
His faced had darkened, not unexpectedly. What did surprise him were the subtle pits in his cheeks. Tufts of dark fuzz obscured his chin and jaw, even his upper lip. The curls atop his head were a messy and longer knot now, daring to fall over his ears. It was the dirt that bothered him most, however, and with every splash of the cool water, he scrubbed off the journey from his face.
Since leaving the capital, he found peace for the first time, on his haunches splashing his face and hair, running his fingers through the knots. The chill washed away the fear of the swirling shadows, the engulfing darkness.
His newfound freshness was fleeting, now that his face was clean, his nose suffered the overwhelming stink of the rest of his body.
Prince Zaki kicked off his boots and tore off his rancid linens. His fine hairs prickled once more, this time with the eyes of the Tamers at the tree. He glanced back and noticed Captain Bhekani return, yet linger at the tree with a knowing expression.
After wrapping his khopesh with the remnants of his torn pants, sparing it from the mud, he delved into the icy embrace with torn sleeves from his shirt. His teeth chattered the moment it engulfed him from neck to toe. Thankfully, there was still solid ground beneath him. It took a moment to calm his breathing, another to remember his immolation.
The cold demanded more effort, but a spark soon blazed within his chest before spreading to the rest of his body. He was neither warm nor cold, and so he began scrubbing.
Prince Zaki departed the lake water with his skin raw and sensitive to the whispering breeze. In only a damp loin cloth and his ironvine ring. The effort of maintaining his immolation carved a gaping hole in his stomach. He steamed by the time he stepped back on the muddy banks, hardening the dark soil into dry clay.
He burned every shred of torn linen to ash in his hand. The added effort threatened to buckle his knees. He steadied himself, watching the ashes drift to the will of the wind. Zaki eased the fire within him, clenching his fists to stay upright, then gathered his boots and khopesh and stomped his way back to camp.
Captain Bhekani rushed towards him with his filled water-skin. Zaki offered him only a nod of thanks, filling his stomach became his focus.
The camp had awoken somewhat, with the eastern horizon brightening with the beginnings of a sunrise. He stuffed his mouth with dried fruit and stale bread. He slowed when he reached the first stick of dried meat.
Zaki watched as more tents rose. New campfires blazed to life. A grand tent rose atop a flat mound towards the southwest, the location chosen by Master Anele; he guessed.
Master Sinalo wished to solidify their position. He claimed they were less than a day away.
Why stop now?
Prince Zaki finally jumped from his absent-minded observation, taking in the air of tension. The last morsel of his dried meat vanished down his throat. He remained in only his loincloth, still, dry and comfortable, fiddling with the ironvine ring as most of the Tamers armed themselves as if a battle approached.
He rushed back into his bag for clothes least weathered and forced them on. The pants were stale, much like the vest he found, but the odour was minimal at least. Zaki was strapping his khopesh to his back when Jazmin scurried towards him, concern dancing on her wearied face.
“Prince, your fellow generals need you.”
“What is it?”
“Best left for the lips that matter. I will send for someone to move your things to the main tent.”
Zaki forced his feet into his boots and tramped towards the flat mount. There was hardly a hint of trouble from all the mustering Tamers nearby. They armoured themselves and spoke of watching the borders of their camp. Something lay ahead, and he couldn’t shake the return of the ominous words spoken by the swirling shadows.
Master Anele’s anxiety was nothing compared to the fear emanating from Master Sinalo. Zaki was still a few strides away from the tent when their scents hit him. Their Tamed beasts grunted at him while they lounged at the entrance. Within was the deathly silence of a crypt, with a pair of mourners to share their grief with him.
“What is it?” Zaki asked, fingers glued to his ironvine ring.
“Trouble,” Anele scoffed.
“Ci’Ped is under siege,” Sinalo wore his usual hardness towards the prince, though without the warmth to soften it. Zaki swallowed a gasp.
There was no chance for elaboration from Master Sinalo, interruption after interruption arrived at their tent. Preparations made by captains, new patrols given, and plans to shore up their borders with stakes made from nearby groves. Prince Zaki and Master Anele watched the master Tamer conduct himself with cold effectiveness. He took comfort in their shared unease by Sinalo’s change.
The shock of it all kept him frozen from asking, then the realisation hit him and he didn’t care for one. Underestimating the emperor was foolish. He knew it.
Jazmin arrived accompanied by other Tamers, carrying his belongings as promised. Dawn trailed close behind, with Melina’s shield in her jaws. He watched her place the shield beside his piled armour. She lounged in his corner of the tent, yawning and licking herself while Zaki waited for privacy.
“How did this happen?” He asked when they stood alone again. “I cannot believe they discovered our plans and mustered an army for a siege before we could do the same? What does this mean for the capital?”
“The emperor understands how to attack his enemies. I'm sure he has many advisors who can help him, if not. Madness or no.”
“Does the timing not bother you? How did he predict our arrival at Ci’Ped?”
“What does it matter?” Master Sinalo snapped at him, annoyed with his back and forth with Anele. “The emperor caught us, through betrayal, sheer cunning, or luck! He is here, and it aids his plans for Bil’Faridh. We must deal with it.”
“What do you suggest?” Master Anele asked, rounding on the Leopard.
“We need knowledge, and I intend to gain it myself.”
“You’re a general, you need not…” Anele’s hand on Zaki’s shoulder silenced him.
“I am, and that means I don’t need to ask for permission.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Think man! You are the only one amongst us with extensive knowledge of the region. If we lose you, our advantage is gone!”
Master Sinalo hesitated for a moment, but he shared a look with Anele and was soon gone, snatching up his shield and clutching his short sword.
“Why did you let him go?”
“If it is knowledge of the land you desire, at least around Ci’Ped, I am more than capable of making up for his departure. But Sinalo, in his current state, is of no use to us. Best let him settle his mind by discovering the truth with his own eyes.”
Anele’s calmness amazed him. The ease at which she spoke of such foolishness. He turned towards Jazmin for support, though quickly realised his own foolery.
“So, we wait, rather than act?”
“The Cheetahs will shore up our defences in the meantime. No matter their number, I doubt they would march on an army of Tamers nearly one thousand strong.”
He grumbled his displeasure, which amused Master Anele, according to her own scent. She tapped his shoulder with a beaming smile and strode out of the tent. Jazmin lingered, despite avoiding his gaze. Idling around the tent from one corner to the other, before settling upon a stool beside her own bedroll.
“Have you forgotten something?” Dawn asked.
“What if sharing it sows the very dissent the shadows warned me against?”
“Do not frame your fear as doubt. Sharing your fear will not lower your standing with them.”
“It is too late, anyway.”
Dawn growled at him, not for the words he spoke, but at the relief that followed.
The morning took an age to pass, he endured an excruciating wait. Prince Zaki began at the centre table, standing over the crude map brought by one Cheetah.
When the bland depiction of Ko’Eri failed to keep him, he collapsed onto a nearby stool, fixating his eyes on the southwestern Chhaa Province. Imagining more than the flat depiction of the landscape on the awfully drawn map. His eyes jumped away from the map entirely while his fingers drummed the table.
He took to fiddling with his ironvine ring next, noticing Jazmin’s eyes fall on his drumming hand. There was warmth in the wonderful jewel, vinewood intertwining with gold. A beating heart wrapped around his middle finger.
Zaki rushed to his feet and darted for the entrance of the tent, catching Jazmin’s attention. Her gaze bore into his back as he grumbled at the lingering morning light. The midday sun refused to arrive. The nip in the air didn’t help his mood.
“Do you think the chief joined the emperor?” Jazmin asked.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it was his army before Ci’Ped’s walls. Which means the emperor surrounds Bil’Faridh already, or worse. Perhaps his siege engines lay waste to the sandy walls. Yet, the little I’ve heard of this Mandla, he wouldn’t miss the chance of besting the inkosi and kumkani himself.”
“Then it is King Raban here?”
“Someone disposable, most likely.” Zaki caressed the fuzz on his chin. “If it were me, I would send recruits alone. We need our numbers more than he needs his, though over five thousand sent to their doom would surprise me.”
“A disposable army under a disposable leader, tasked with the sole duty of bleeding the enemy before their genuine test? The solution is simple in my mind.”
Zaki turned towards her with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed.
“Is it now?”
“Vivada.”
“Oh yes, a simple solution. Place everyone’s lives in the hands of one champion.” He didn’t mean for his words to be sour, but the suggestion was an unwelcome surprise. “Not just our lives, not only the Leopards in Ci’Ped, but everyone in Bil’Faridh? We cannot guess what sort of cruelty the mad emperor forces on them.”
“Then you intend to fight. Eight hundred Tamers against however many thousands await us, against Tamers of their own, no doubt?”
“We do not know the truth of it all yet,” Zaki sighed. As much as she stung him, her sense was winning him over. Ten thousand would be nothing for a three-clan army to spare, leaving perhaps five times that for the capital. They would fight to the last sword. Who knew what casualties they’d sustain. One false move could mean the deaths of thousands more than expected, leaving only a skeletal crew to save Bil’Faridh.
“Say we demand a Vivada. Why would their general risk their duty when it is simple on their part?”
“For the same reason we would, to save lives. They are not fiends, soulless husks ready to give their lives up. A duty such as that already demands a lot. Do you think they would allow their general to pass up the chance to prevent bloodshed? Picture it, a general given a near impossible duty, yet desperate to prove their worth. The Lion Prince, the heir to the enemy’s throne, the future of the clan, stands against them. The decades long civil war ended by one Vivada. Only a fool would pass up the chance to etch their name into history forever.”
Prince Zaki didn’t need Dawn’s approval to be swayed by Jazmin’s argument. It was the most fruitful path, one that would almost guarantee smashing the emperor’s siege with a full-strength army. If the emperor was unaware of their coming, the potential of attacking him on both flanks would all but break his siege. That he was sure of.
“Something to consider, I hope.”
Blood myself with a Vivada, before smashing the emperor before Sanctuary and Bil’Faridh. What a storied beginning that would be?
Zaki’s mind declared himself the winner before the fact. Dawn’s encouraging was another surprise, a welcome one this time. The shadowed stranger be damned.
“Once we know more, I will share it with my fellow generals.”
“I am glad to be of service, Prince.”
Master Anele returned the moment Jazmin uttered his title. He turned away from the comely archivist, raising his hand against the midday sun. Her dark umber flesh glistened with perspiration; every step rippled her sturdy muscles.
Zaki stepped aside as she entered, after he met her grassy green eyes. She fanned herself now in the shade, recovering her breath.
“Any news?”
“We are not being watched, at least. Should they attack, our stakes will slow them, but other than that, nothing.”
“No sign of Sinalo?”
“I doubt he has arrived yet. If there wasn't need for caution, he could have returned already.”
Anele’s eyes lingered on his armour while she spoke.
“When was the last time you swung your blade?”
“Why?”
“The Cheetahs are keeping their skills ready. I think we should do the same.”
“A clever excuse to test my skills?” Zaki smirked, but the recent chatter resurrected an itch in his limbs. “Point the way, and don your armour. I expect a challenge.”
They attracted an audience amongst the off-duty Cheetahs. A few testing jabs beneath the blazing midday sun, and he had already drenched his underclothes with a fresh wash of sweat. It took a moment for his body to reacclimatise to the weight of his armour and khopesh. Then there was Melina’s shield, which was deceptively light, to his bewilderment. He knocked his legs, forgetting the protection on his off arm, despite its grand size.
Master Anele grinned as they circled each other. Her own iron reinforced leather shield took his khopesh well, with hardly a scratch to show. She hadn’t used her iklwa much, but his eye focused on her left hand twirling the short spear.
Anele feigned a charge, then stepped back when he raised his golden wall. She was never still, and her being left-handed added an extra layer to this affair. It forced him to stay mobile as well, shield first towards her left. Which didn’t leave an opportunity to attack, at least not a simple one.
She charged again, and he braced against her battering shield. His boots dug into the earth when her charge continued, winning ground against him while he waited for her attack, which never came. Zaki gritted himself, pushing back, but nearly thrown off balance when she spun around and crouched low, swiping his heels.
The prince rolled forward, picking up a coat of maroon clay, before spinning around and rising his shield in time to block her jumping thrust. He managed a swipe just as she landed on the ground, but Anele pirouetted away.
Muttered approvals trickled into his ears from the onlooking Cheetahs, all of them directed towards Master Anele. Who resumed her circling, smirking and iklwa twirling. The temptation to toss aside Melina’s shield was there, but that would be a defeat on its own.
Zaki slowed his breath and crouched low, ensuring Melina’s shield covered his entirety. Leaving only a nail sized gap between the bottom edge and the clay ground, and a sliver of vision for his mismatched eyes over the rounded top. He poked his khopesh against its side and edged forward, stomping each step and cracking the top layer of hard clay.
Master Anele’s expression turned serious for once, but her circling and twirling continued. There was a shift in the air, and the watching Cheetahs quietened their excitable chatter.
The prince became an unstoppable juggernaut, a slow one, but one she couldn’t escape. No matter how swiftly she jumped around. He gave her no opening, nor did he take any of the deceptions she offered. Anele jumped this way and that, and he turned, unchanged from his crouched stance.
Anele continued to feign attacks despite her backpedalling. Zaki moved forward relentlessly, gritting his teeth to keep himself from reacting. Every false attack edged closer and closer; his instincts screamed for a reaction.
Discipline in all things, he repeated it to himself. The attrition must continue.
Her feints became genuine attacks, pinging against his shield. It slowed him, but did nothing to halt his forward march. The occasional ping against Melina’s shield became a drumming of a spear point on script strengthened gold. Anele’s heavy breathing was a reward, her growing frustration an advantage, but he waited still.
She rewarded his patience when her fatigued attack missed its mark. When usually the point of her iklwa struck Melina’s shield, the edge came instead, sliding along its surface. Zaki aided her slide by drawing more of her left arm out, flipping his khopesh over. He slammed the grand yellow jewel of a pommel under her elbow to numb her arm.
Anele yelped, and her iklwa clattered to the ground. He bashed her with the shield again, tipping her balance, before hooking her closest ankle with the curve of his khopesh. Zaki yanked what remained of her balance away and stood over her as she thudded to the ground with a cloud of red clay dust. He kept her down with Melina’s shield and pointed his khopesh at her face.
“Do you yield?”
The watching Cheetahs exclaimed, then their resumed muttering shifted in admiration for his swift victory.
Anele groaned below him; her own shield close by thanks to her flimsy grip of it. She blinked the shock away from her face, which soon contorted into frustration.
“Get off me,” she hissed, and Zaki stepped away, smirking.
Master Anele rushed to her feet, dusting herself off after tossing aside her shield. She flexed her left hand and shook her arm until the numbness faded.
“Impressively done,” she forced the words out from behind gritted teeth. Still massaging her arm, but now moving her fingers, at least. “I underestimated you.”
“Indeed?”
“Your earlier fumbling with the shield fooled me, or you learn quickly, for I thought I saw an opening.” Her smirk failed to hide the bitterness in her scent. Yet if it wasn’t for that bitterness, he might have taken offence.
Zaki offered his hand, and she took it for the briefest moment, just enough to share her respect, before snapping her hand away. Who did she think she was to underestimate him? Had all those years of training under and sparring against the dual wielding Kumkani Lihle not been enough for her?
Dawn shared her annoyance through their bond, but he wasn’t in the mood. There were far too many ears and eyes for him to react in any other way beyond his smile, so he kept it, trying his best to suppress anything else.
“I’ll send for the bath water.”
Master Anele was off. Dawn pestered him through their bond, sharing her disappointment. He ignored her as he stomped his way back up the flat mound towards the tent, where Jazmin stood at the entrance.
“That was impressive,” she muttered as he stormed past her into the shade. “Or not?”
“Underestimated me, she says, me? The one who has fought against a dual wielder and held my own long before I bonded with my Tamed.”
“You cannot have taken such a harmless observation to heart?”
Zaki rounded on Jazmin the moment he caught a hint of humour on her voice. Her eyes widened at first in surprise, but she stood her ground.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“Why? Because I do not enjoy violence as much as the rest of you?”
“How dare…”
“I understand your frustrations, the threat of a potential spy hovering over us, and Master Sinalo’s need to ride right into the Tiger’s jaw. It would stretch even the calmest of leaders thin, but to search for trouble where there is none is your own fault. Do not mistakenly sow dissent when there is more than enough opportunity for it to thrive.”
“I will tell them! I’m not sowing…” Zaki caught himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose and felt his frustrations fade. The shadow was winning.
“Tell who what, Prince?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Must I… shall I make this a private conversation?”
Zaki sighed and turned towards her. The concern on Jazmin’s face didn’t help with releasing the words. It felt like a confession to a crime he was yet to commit. Her warmth caressed his hand, but thankfully, the tingling sensation never came. His eyebrow rose at her comforting hand, and she snatched it away.
“Someone visited me in my dream, or no, the void, according to the shadowed stranger.”
Jazmin’s eyes widened at him and this time she snatched his hands with a force that kept him still. The tingle washed over him while her fear filled his nose. His lips and ears tingled, and Jazmin’s trembling ceased.
“You are sure it was the void?”
“I cannot say, for I didn’t… well, at least it was nothing like my bonding.”
“You were aware of your surroundings?”
“Yes.”
Jazmin’s eyes never left him, nor did her fearful scent.
“How did this stranger appear?”
“Swirling shadows, perhaps you can reveal what it is,”
“What did they say?” Her nails dug into his wrists.
“They told me not to ride any closer to Ci’Ped, any of us, for a rider will find us with a message.”
A figure barged into the tent, someone who was difficult to make out beyond the unseen barrier. She shuddered when there was an attempt to break her bubble, but Jazmin relinquished her grip on him, and the tingling vanished.
“What is it?” Zaki asked Master Anele, who frowned at them.
“We caught one.”
Prince Zaki stomped behind the leading Master Anele, still caked by the red clay of their sparring match. She led him through the buzzing camp of Cheetahs, muttering amongst themselves about why a Tiger was in their midst.
“I’m told she surrendered to the first of our patrolling Tamers. She wears her lamellar armour with a sword and shield. Her dark Bagha is compliant for now.”
“How many are on her?”
“Six, two archers, I’ve also bolstered the number of patrols towards the northwest.”
“Has she said anything?”
“Other than demanding for us, no.” Anele hadn’t released the hilt of her iklwa. The shield on her back made him feel nude, since he left Melina’s shield in a rush.
The air of tension amongst the Cheetahs they passed made him uneasy. He hoped it would have been Master Sinalo’s return, despite Anele’s words. He feared a surprise.
They came across six Cheetahs ringing around a kneeling figure in silver. A pair of archers had their bows at the ready, with arrows drawn and nocked, but not aimed. The rest had their weapons eager and shields raised.
The Tiger meditated beside her lounging dark Bagha, with its sparkling silver stripes glittering under the sun. Her head rose as Zaki and Anele neared, and her hazel eyes fell upon him. She focused on his golden eye and Zaki refused to turn away.
The southern sun bronzed her skin. She was plain looking, with hard jaws, and the sides of her head shaved. Her helmet flattened the top of her pale brunette straight hair. Which was close beside her, decorated with horns of silver.
Cheetahs parted for Zaki and Anele to stand before the Tiger, who continued to kneel with her neck craned upwards.
“Speak Tiger.” Anele snapped.
Her hazel eyes jumped between them in silence, and Zaki caught the dark Bagha’s scarlet gaze blink towards him for a moment before returning to its lounging.
“I was told there would be three. My master’s words are for the three, and only three of you.”
“You cannot make demands.” Zaki said.
There was barely a hint of wavering on her. She moved nothing but her neck and eyes.
“Why are you here? Why did you surrender?”
“To convey a message from my master, to three.”
“The third is currently away.”
“Then I shall wait.”
Anele glanced at the prince, uneasy curiosity sparking upon her face.
“What is stopping me from killing you now, and searching your corpse for this message?”
“My master has marked me. Should I die, violence will follow.”
“Who is your master?” Anele asked.
The Tiger’s smile was the last thing Zaki expected, nor did he enjoy it. There was a tinge of unease amongst the surrounding Cheetahs.
“Send for your third. Every hour lost hastens the capital’s fall. Time is not on your side.”
Prince Zaki glanced at Anele, both sharing their confusion. He nodded, and she stomped away. She left him with the Tiger and the six other Cheetahs, Zaki watched as she lowered her head again, returning to her meditative pose. His fingers returned to his ironvine ring, seeking comfort from its gentle heartbeat.
The sextuple remained in a ring around the kneeling Tiger Tamer even as darkness fell. Their weapons aimed at the unmoving woman. Stars glittered above, between the wisp of clouds marking the night sky at random.
Master Anele returned with a torch in hand, blazing the darkness away. Prince Zaki watched until her grassy green eyes met his own. She slowly shook her head, and his shoulders sagged. His fingers returned to the gentle heartbeat comfort of his ironvine ring.
Their camp flickered with life towards the southeast. The collective tension wafted from the camp, mingling with the Cheetahs, who were ceaseless in their watchfulness. Zaki paced, digging a path in the red clay. Long since removing the brittle and dry layer of dead grass from its surface. His ankles were red, his soles lost a thin layer, but the ironvine kept his hands from idling.
Dawn watched him from the dead trunk of a nearby skeletal tree. Snoring as she lay within the roots, but her alertness remained in their bond. His helm thumped against his thigh. The humidity of the Chhaa beaded his brow with sweat. The curls atop his head were damp, and his relieving glove turned salty from the constant wiping.
The Tiger shifted within the unyielding ring of steel, catching his eye and forcing him into a statuesque stillness. Her eyes remained serenely shut while she adjusted her weight on her knees, barely breaking her meditative aura. Until she calmed once more to stillness, save for the rhythmic breath that lifted and lowered her chest.
Anele stepped ahead of the ring and Dawn’s attention sparked in his bond. Her head rose from its lazy slumbering and turned toward the Master Tamer. Zaki rushed to join her side when the approach of another spurred his legs.
Master Sinalo emerged from the shadows of night’s darkness, dismounted from his Tamed Cituva, striding beside the beast with a peculiar expression. He flinched at the brightness of Anele’s torch, then wore a sheepish grin on his face as he removed his helm.
“What’s happened?” He asked as his eyes fell upon the ring of Cheetahs, remaining unmoved.
“What did you see?” Anele stepped closer, almost hissing.
“I’m not even sure myself.”
“Perhaps I could clear it up.” They all turned to face the Tiger. The surrounding Cheetahs tightened their ring around her as she rose to her feet. “If you would allow it? Though I think it best if it were only the three of you.”
Sinalo frowned at Anele and the prince before turning his attention back to the Tiger.
“Who are you?”
“A messenger, bringing the word of the one who leads us. Though I must insist on privacy.”
“Whatever you speak is for all. There are no secrets between us. You will not stir dissent in our ranks.”
Zaki’s chest tightened, but the collective agreement for Anele’s words stifled his want to stop them. The ring of Cheetah’s parted and they stepped into the ring, barely more than an arm’s length away from the Tiger. For the first time, she gave away her unease, eyes dancing amongst the faces of the Cheetahs swarming around her.
Master Anele waved for them to lower their weapons, the torch dimming its flickering fire before the dark Tamer.
“I will reach within my armour for it. I am not reaching for a weapon,” she informed, though still moved at a slow pace. The roll of paper was near squashed when she slipped it out from beneath her lamellar armour. However, the black seal remained intact.
The Tiger eyed Master Anele, and glanced at Master Sinalo, before handing the roll towards himself.
Anele and Sinalo’s eyes fell upon him as he broke the seal and unfurled the rolled paper, revealing the black ink within.
“Prince Zaki Atum Ra,” Zaki began, clearing his throat. “I dare not write more than necessary, for not all of my number are aware of my intentions. I wish to meet with you, preferably only you, though I would not deny you company beyond myself. On the next evening after you receive this I will arrive in your tent, please ensure all light within it is unlit until I’m present. There are important matters to discuss, requiring faces to the words we might share. Once again, I must ask you to not march forward, and to trust in a stranger, for ending this with no blood spilled is what we both desire.”
‘Once again,’ Zaki shuddered at the possibilities his mind rushed through. They all sank when the last words caught his attention. His throat dried, and Anele and Sinalo’s eyes bore into him the more he tried to clear it.
“To the ending of this war,” he almost whispered after he perused the name at the bottom of the page.
“It’s signed… by the first samurai of the emperor, Jian.”
The shadowed stranger, the betrayal of their mission. Who else but Jian the Dark? Zaki caught himself before his chuckle worsened into maddening laughter.
“Is this a trick?” Anele snapped at the Tiger. “An attempt to intimidate us?”
“No trick.” the Tiger had the decency to mask her smugness, if there was any, she seemed a master at remaining passive.
The ring of Cheetahs wavered for the first time. Their eyes wandered amongst each other, some lingering on the Tiger. Anele snatched the letter from Zaki’s limp hand, then she handed it to Sinalo. Dawn was the only one who didn’t share in the reaction. She lounged within the roots, accompanied by Sinalo’s Tamed. Nothing to be felt through their bond other than her idle consciousness.
Prince Zaki endured the eyes of everyone soon after, though it took a moment to realise. His ironvine ring provided ample comfort as usual. He raised his head and studied the collective incredulity, even from the Tiger, in their eyes. Zaki finally felt the smile stretching his lips.