The Rage of Dragons (The Burning Books #1) (23 page)

The noise accosted him first, the eerie gusting of wind that blew grit into his face and exposed skin. Tau felt it, heard it, and, snapping his eyes open, he saw the permanent twilight of Isihogo.

He was still in the circle in Citadel City, but it was a twisted version of the place. The colors were muted, the sky colorless, the ground soft, like loose mulch, and the underworld’s mists swirled around him.

“You did it.” Zuri’s voice was quiet, like she spoke to him from a hundred strides away, though she was next to him. Tau could hear the surprise in her voice. He looked at her. She was veiled in a darkness so deep he had trouble making out her features.

“You’re shrouded,” he said, having trouble hearing his own voice.

“They come,” she said.

Tau had the impression of her turning her head, though it was hard to tell where her face was. He looked in the same direction he thought she might be facing and saw them. His heart seemed to stop and fear had him in its white-hot grasp.

Two demons were running for him. One was twice his size, had a mouth full of teeth and a tongue that hung down past its neck. It came for him on two legs. The other thing ran on all fours. It had pointed ears, eyes on either side of its head, and skin like an inyoka.

Tau sought to calm himself. It didn’t work. He looked down at his body, saw the blinding light he was giving off, and he reached into himself, working to dim it, to hide as Zuri was.

“What are you doing?” Zuri asked. “It’s time. Exhale.”

Tau did not. He focused his mind on the task of dimming his soul’s light. He tried to understand how such a thing could work, and he felt something. It was an oppressive and enormous wall of energy that existed all around him, and the temptation to grab hold of it, pull a portion of it into himself, was intense.

Without knowing how he knew, Tau realized that this was the prison that kept the demons in Isihogo. It was also the field of Ananthi’s energy from which the Gifted drew power. He resisted the impulse to draw in the energy. That was death. Instead, he did all he could to mask his light, to hide the glow of his spirit.

“Tau?” Zuri shouted.

He looked down at himself and saw, to his astonishment, that he glowed bright as ever. He looked up. The demons, snarling and slavering, were almost on him. His bladder felt overfull and fear thickened his blood.

He hated that they made him feel this way. He hated that the underworld, these creatures, and the fear of it all could disable him in his world. It could not continue.

Tau inhaled, drawing in as much of the underworld’s fetid air as he could. He had come to learn how to defeat enervation. He would not leave until he had done so.

He snarled at the products of Ukufa’s evil and placed his hands on the hilts of his swords, which had come with him. He drew them and faced the beasts.

“What are you doing?” Zuri screamed.

“They can’t hurt me!” he told her. “You can’t hurt me!” he roared at the demons. Zuri fled and Tau fought.

The thing on all fours got to him first, and Tau brought his strong-side sword down on its snout with as much force as he could. The creature was dashed to the ground, tripping over its feet and rolling. There was no time to appreciate the small victory. The other demon, a thing twice the height of a Lesser, loomed over him and swiped for his guts with a black claw–tipped hand. Tau threw himself back, but he’d underestimated the demon’s reach. Its claws raked across his stomach, tearing him almost in two.

Tau fell to the murky ground and felt his insides spilling out. He looked down and cried out in pain and horror. His intestines were exposed to the air, ropes upon ropes of them. He reached down to try to push them back. The pain was indescribable, and then the demon was on him.

He tried to swing his swords but had lost them when he fell. He tried to beat the beast back, but it ignored him as it feasted. The thing on all fours, recovered from the sword strike, joined the feasting, and Tau lost his mind to pain. He tried to exhale, as Zuri had taught him, but it was too late for that and he suffered more than he’d believed possible as the two demons tore him apart.

“You hateful cek!” Zuri slapped him across the face. “What is the matter with you?”

She had tears running down her face and was crouched next to Tau on the dirt of the circle in Citadel City.

“By the Goddess, that was worse than I imagined,” Tau whispered. “So much worse. How can a place like that exist?”

“Are you well?” Zuri asked, before recoiling. “I shouldn’t even ask. You are undeserving of concern. How could you do that? Why would you do it?”

“I can’t be afraid of them. I can’t let the Gifted stop me when I fight. I can’t be afraid.”

“Are you trying to become demon-haunted?”

“I’m well.”

Zuri stood up and Tau thought she might kick him. “What if you had died?” she asked.

Tau made himself sit up, and though he was uninjured, he cradled his stomach. “You told me the demons couldn’t harm me.”

“What if I was wrong?”

“You weren’t. Zuri, I felt the energy there. I could have taken it. I didn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“I tried to hide myself.” Tau forced a smile. “It didn’t work.”

“Omehi men cannot be Gifted!” she hissed, leaning in as if proximity would make the point more clear.

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Zuri threw up her hands. “Why do I bother with you?”

“Help me up?”

“I’m done helping. Get yourself up.”

Tau struggled to his feet and shuffled over to the bench. “I can’t fight like this.”

“Fight?”

“I thought, maybe, if I faced the demons, I could come out of Isihogo and still be ready to fight. It doesn’t… That won’t work. I still feel the claws.” Tau brushed his fingertips against his stomach and the muscles there spasmed, anticipating the pain from wounds that did not exist.

“You had to fight demons to learn that?”

“I thought I could win.”

Zuri shook her fists at him. “You’re an idiot.”

Tau tried to stand and fell back onto the bench. He was exhausted and his body was shaking. His plan, in retrospect, seemed foolhardy, the act of an impulsive child. There were large forces at work in the universe and he did not understand them.

“Zuri, it’s dark out. I have to leave the city. Will you help me?” Tau felt weak; that was true. It wasn’t the only reason he asked, though. He didn’t want to go alone.

Zuri’s face softened. She’d seen through him. “Lean on me. I’ll walk with you until you feel more yourself.”

“Thank you,” Tau said.

“Don’t say another word. If I didn’t feel…”

Tau very much wanted to hear what she’d been about to say. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Here.” She slipped his arm over her shoulders and helped him stand. “You’re bigger than you were in Kerem.”

“They feed us more than in Kerem.”

“It’s muscle.”

“I swing swords all day.”

“Mhmm,” she said, grunting under his weight.

Tau tried not to lean on her, but he was shaky and might have fallen over otherwise.

“Thank you,” he told her again.

“Don’t talk,” she said, but she watched him with worry. She didn’t hate him, and for that Tau was grateful.

Zuri walked him within a hundred strides of the city gates.

“We shouldn’t be seen together,” she said, stopping.

“I know.”

“You can make it?”

“I have a lot farther to go than the gates,” he reminded her.

“Yes.” Zuri kissed him.

Her movement had been sudden and the demon’s attack had not left him. He almost jerked away from her. Her lips calmed him, eased his mind. “Your kiss. It’s healing.”

“Mmmm,” she murmured, biting her lower lip. “Is it?”

“Another one would make me stronger, for the journey.”

“No, you should remain weak. It’ll remind you that we must all live with the consequences of idiocy.”

The edges of his mouth drifted upward. “One more? To help me sleep?”

“Do your prayers, that will help you sleep,” she said, slipping into his arms and kissing him again. “You have to go,” she told him, stepping away. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” he told her, watching as she left the way they’d come.

When she was lost to sight, he walked through the gates of Citadel City to join his sword brothers. He was late, but after an afternoon of celebration, he was not the only one. It took another span before every man could be accounted for and the marching could begin. Men stumbled, a few couldn’t hold their drink and, when the mood hit, they sang marching songs.

Hadith, Yaw, Chinedu, and Oyibo found Tau. They marched with him. He was glad for the company, but it worried him that, even surrounded by his sword brothers, he kept seeing strange shadows in the tall grasses.

Tau was on the practice field before the sun rose. The rest of Jayyed’s five found him there, lathered in sweat. He’d been running and had not slept.

He’d tried. He’d performed the evening prayers three times, steeling his will and mind against Isihogo, but he did not know whether his nightmares were dreams or something else. Whatever the case, he’d come to the practice fields. He was too afraid to sleep.

Along with Hadith, Yaw, and Chinedu, Tau saw Oyibo. The boyish-faced warrior spoke to Tau, unable to meet his gaze. “During last night’s march, Jayyed told me to join you.”

He said it as if he needed Tau’s permission, and, not knowing what else to say or do, Tau clapped Oyibo on the shoulder, as he imagined Hadith would have done. “Welcome, brother,” he said. “I wondered what was taking Jayyed so long.”

Oyibo’s face brightened and he raised his head. “I won’t let you down.”

Tau wasn’t sure why Oyibo needed to worry about letting him down, but he was glad his words had bolstered his sword brother’s confidence. Hadith nodded at Tau. He approved as well. Good, thought Tau. With that out of the way they could begin.

Tau paired with Oyibo and trounced him ten touches to none. It was odd, Tau thought. Oyibo managed to look both pleased and frustrated.

“It’s an honor,” Oyibo said when their match was over. Tau clapped Oyibo on the shoulder again, since the gesture had worked the first time. Oyibo went off to find water, looking happy.

Tau wasn’t tired and paired up with Hadith. “What’s going on with him?” he asked as they crossed blades.

“Worship,” Hadith grunted between breaths, retreating under Tau’s offense.

“Seriously,” Tau said. He disarmed Hadith, stabbing him in the chest.

Hadith rubbed at the spot, working out the bruise. He picked up his sword and squared up. “I am serious. The whole scale thinks you’re Tsiory born again.”

Hadith shoved his shield at Tau’s face and swung his blade at his waist. Tau used one sword to clear the shield, his other blocked Hadith’s swing, and he used a front kick to push Hadith back, making space.

“Because of one skirmish?” Tau said.

Hadith lunged; Tau stepped aside, dodging, and smacked Hadith across the back. Hadith went sprawling into the dirt.

Sitting up and spitting out loose soil, he said, “Do you know how good I am?”

“What?”

“I can beat almost every man in Scale Jayyed, and Scale Jayyed is the best in the Southern Ihashe Isikolo, likely the best in both academies.”

Tau shrugged. They should be among the top initiates. They trained harder than the others.

“Tau,” Hadith said, “you could kill me with one hand strapped to your back.”

“I have to be this way.”

“As you say, but did you not see Oyibo’s face when he sparred with you?” Hadith asked.

Tau waited, thinking Hadith didn’t truly expect him to answer.

“He fought you like you were an Enraged Ingonyama, like he’d do what he could but knew he had no hope.”

“He doesn’t commit to his attacks as much as he should and needs to work on his speed.”

“After Runako, Oyibo is our fastest blade. By the Goddess, why do you think Jayyed offered him a spot with us? Why do you think I sent him with you to hold the path in the skirmish against the Indlovu?”

Tau considered this.

“Oyibo is an incredible fighter,” Hadith said, “and he spars you like a child hoping to learn from his father.”

Tau remembered what it had been like to spar Aren. His father had seemed like a god, able to dodge, predict, and counter, with a patient smile and ready words of encouragement.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” Hadith stood, brushing dirt from his gambeson. “We all work hard, but you get here earlier than the rest of us and stay later. All of us want to be better, but there needs to be balance. I find the time to laugh, play, drink. I find the time to… Tau, it’s like you live for this and nothing else.”

Tau grimaced. “The mistake is in thinking you have time for the rest.”

“We don’t? We don’t have the time to live? Only for war?”

“The sword, the learning, the improvement, it’s a means to an end.”

“You want to kill hedeni so badly?”

Tau didn’t answer.

“Or someone else? You train like you want to become an Ingonyama.”

“We can’t,” Tau said. “Our blood is too weak.”

“Then the Goddess gives our enemy hope. I’m on your side and shudder to think of you as an Ingonyama.”

“I’ll fight an Ingonyama,” a voice behind Tau said. “I’ll fight anyone.”

Tau turned and was smiling before even laying eyes on Uduak. “Big man.”

“Little demon,” Uduak returned, making Tau wince. “I am here for a rematch.”

Behind Uduak were Jayyed and Anan. They were smiling too, though Anan looked gray and bleary-eyed. The jugs of masmas from the night before still had their claws in him.

“Whenever you want,” Tau told Uduak, moving to hug the oversized Common.

Uduak seemed surprised at Tau’s embrace. Tau was surprised at himself. Uduak clapped him painfully on the back and, both a little embarrassed, they stood apart.

“Well met,” Tau said.

“Well met, Tau Solarin,” Uduak said.

“If you two require privacy…” Hadith whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, making Chinedu do his coughing laugh. Yaw chuckled and Oyibo looked lost.

“Yes, yes, well met, all,” Jayyed said, traces of his smile playing along the edges of his mouth. “Let’s begin.”

Jayyed’s five were once again Jayyed’s six, and they worked until the rest of the scale joined them and then trained with them until the sun set.

They ate and Tau came out to continue training. Oyibo, Yaw, and Uduak came too. Hadith stayed behind with the rest of the scale, doing as Hadith did, talking with the men, making jokes, being a friend they could trust.

It made him a good leader, the way he dealt with his sword brothers. Tau admired it and thought Hadith might be right. Life was about balance. Tau decided he’d work on it.

By the next morning he’d forgotten his decision to live a balanced life. Over the next moon cycle he spent every waking span in the practice yards and every night tossing in his bed. He tried to feel guilty about how distant he was with the rest of the men. He tried to get the demons out of his head so he could sleep. He failed both ways and chose to fixate on what was ahead, to keep himself sane.

The scale had to win their next skirmish. A victory gave them a chance at the Queen’s Melee. A spot in the melee gave them a chance to skirmish against Scale Osa, Kellan’s scale, and Tau wanted that more than anything.

If Tau could fight Kellan, he could kill him on the battlefield and claim it as an accident. The Omehi would think it a tragic and shameful end to such a promising Noble, dying at the hands of a Lesser. But there could be no punishment. Every cycle men died in the melee. Every cycle.

Tau told himself this was why he trained so hard. It was for revenge. He told himself that he didn’t love every span of it, because his path should not involve pleasure, satisfaction, or joy. It was about hate and pain and rage. But he did love it, the training, the sparring, the sword.

Hadith thought differently. He wanted time to live life, to play games, but their world was at war and that meant the sword was life. It meant fighting was the only game. And, in the upcoming skirmish, Tau intended to prove how good a player he was.