The Rage of Dragons (The Burning Books #1) (33 page)

Tau marched to the nearest cot and collapsed on it, closing his eyes.

“Tau.” It was Hadith.

Tau grunted, wanting to be left alone.

“Well done.”

“And what did I do?”

“You reminded them they are valuable. That they can achieve incredible things. That they are not just fodder for this eternal war.”

“We’ve always been more than the Nobles make us out to be.”

“Perhaps, but most have never seen proof, until today.”

Tau grunted again.

“The rest of the scale will be here soon,” Hadith said. “Jayyed and Anan as well. At least wash your face.”

Tau let his eyes slide open. Hadith was standing over him. “Why?” Tau asked.

“You have blood all over it.”

“Not mine.”

“I know. We all know.”

“How did Uduak’s unit do?”

“They did well. They held against the Indlovu unit on the ridge but lost men doing it. All in all, we’re down seventeen fighters. Eight to surrender, the others to injury. Thankfully, Uduak had the sense to surrender before getting hurt. He can fight in tomorrow’s skirmish, in place of another.”

“Give him Utibe’s spot,” Tau said.

“Utibe?”

“He ran.”

“He was facing an entire unit of Indlovu.”

“He ran.”

“Most would consider his actions prudent,” Hadith said.

Tau rolled over, giving his back to Hadith. No point arguing.

“You’re leading the Queen’s Melee in number of men dispatched,” Hadith told him.

Tau looked over his shoulder. “It’s the first day.”

“They maintain a running tally. Keep it up and you’ll be the first Lesser Ingonyama, ever.” Hadith smiled like he didn’t mean it. “Don’t push in so far among the enemy next time. We can’t protect you if you do.”

The words were said kindly, sword brother to sword brother. Tau was in no mood for it. “You can’t protect me.”

Hadith lost the smile. “Maybe not, but do as I say, because it’s an order. Fighting so far ahead of your brothers endangers them as well as you.”

“Yes, inkokeli,” Tau told him, looking away. He was so tired.

That afternoon, Proven from the Northern Isikolo stood guard outside their tent. The men of Scale Jayyed were sequestered until the day’s skirmishing was done. They could not observe the tactics, strengths, and weaknesses of the other competing scales, but they could hear the crowd roaring approval and, on occasion, disappointment. Jayyed and Anan spent time with the scale, briefly celebrating their historic victory and going over plans for whomever they might face in tomorrow’s skirmish.

As the day turned to dusk, a Proven came into the tent to tell Jayyed and Anan they had drawn Scale Ojuolape for tomorrow’s match. Tau swore. It wasn’t Scale Osa. It wasn’t Kellan. He swore louder when Jayyed told them the rest.

Scale Ojuolape had lost just ten men and would outnumber them. The skirmish was set for the first thing in the morning and they would battle on the grasslands.

Tau exhaled, whistling air through clenched teeth. The grasslands simulated a losing proposition for the Omehi, who could never match the hedeni’s numbers. Skirmishing there was done to teach future inkokeli that taking a fight on open ground, when outnumbered, was not something to be done.

“The grasslands?” asked Hadith, speaking so everyone could hear. “Good,” he said. “There won’t be anywhere for the bastards to hide.”

The men stamped their feet, approving of their inkokeli’s brave words, but their faces told another story. They were being sent to slaughter. Only a fool couldn’t see that.

“The sequester is over,” said Jayyed. “You may leave the tent, stretch your legs, and breathe air not fouled by your sword brothers’ stink. Go, but don’t dally. We’re up before dawn to discuss our strategy for Ojuolape’s men.”

Tau stood. He would walk for a bit, let night fall, and he would go to Isihogo.

“Tau.” It was Jayyed.

Tau forced his face to be neutral. He did not want to speak to the man who had helped plan his people’s surrender. “Umqondisi.”

“A moment, if you please.” Jayyed motioned Tau over to a corner of the tent where they would not be overheard.

Tau didn’t think he had a reason to worry, but he did so. Had Jayyed noticed him at the meeting between the Omehi and the Xiddeen? Nothing the umqondisi had done since that day indicated it, but he’d been so distant since seeing his daughter go with the hedeni that it was hard to say.

“I’d tell you that you did well today,” Jayyed started, “but that falls so far beneath the truth it mocks it. In my highest estimations for the scale I did not expect to be here, in a competitor’s tent at the Queen’s Melee.”

“We have your leadership and training to thank,” Tau said.

Jayyed smiled. “I have done what I could to bring out the best in each of you. But what you’re doing… what you are… How?”

The question, coming from Jayyed, made Tau angry. “Desire and sacrifice. I desire the ability to protect what I love and I will sacrifice everything to do so. My thinking comes from your teachings, your methods. You taught us that to achieve greater results we must outlay greater effort.”

Tau leaned in, not to share secrets but to strike Jayyed with the force of his words. “You ask me how? I’ll tell you. By refusing to surrender, no matter how bad the chances, because as long as we fight, the outcome is not set. As long as we fight, there is a chance.”

Tau had gotten very close, but Jayyed did not back away. He stood toe-to-toe with Tau. “I’ve been a soldier for most of my life and I’ve learned hard lessons. Fight for too long and you lose sight of the things you started the fight for. Fight for too long and you lose anyway.”

Tau sneered. “What then? Surrender? That’s your answer? Surrender, when the fight becomes hard?”

“No. Fight for what’s right, but never forget that fighting can also be done without violence. It can be done as it is now, with words, ideals, people seeking a better path, together.” Jayyed put his hands on Tau’s shoulders. “You can’t imagine a world where we work as hard at peace as we do at war?”

Tau stepped back, letting Jayyed’s hands fall free. “I can’t imagine a world where the man holding a sword does not have the last say over the man without one. If you’re not prepared to fight, you place yourself and everything you love beneath the blades of others, praying they choose not to cut. I have felt the mercy of armed men and they will never find me helpless again.”

Jayyed sighed. “Then you’ll stand in a world of char and ash.”

“But I’ll stand.”

“So you say.” Jayyed raised his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched it, closing his eyes. “Hadith has a plan for the skirmish. He came to me with it because it is too risky to do without my blessing. If it works, the scale gets through the grasslands against superior Indlovu numbers and, for the first time, Lessers will fight in the semifinals of the Queen’s Melee. Hadith’s plan hinges on you, Tau Solarin.”

Jayyed took his hand from his face, looking into Tau’s eyes, as if he could see past them and into his soul. “Will you listen?”

The sun battered the land, its heat reflecting from the earth in shimmering waves that warped the light. It was a cruel day, but the crowds had come. They’d come for the sport and, in some small way, to be part of the making of new legends. They’d come to watch Jayyed’s scale of Lessers do battle against Ojuolape’s scale of Nobles.

It was day two of the Queen’s Melee, the quarter finals, and eight of the original sixteen scales remained in competition. Tau, his scale first to fight, stood on the edge of the grasslands with thirty-six of his sword brothers. Five hundred strides in front of them were forty-four citadel initiates, Ojuolape’s Noble warriors.

The grasslands were a crowd favorite. There was nowhere to hide, no obstacles to leverage, few tactics to employ. They were a killing field. Men rushed each other. Men fought. Men fell. It spelled doom for the outnumbered Ihashe.

“Hadith,” said Yaw, “not to be cowardly, but I really hope your plan works.”

Hadith smiled. Tau could see his mouth twitching, though. He knew his inkokeli well enough to know when he was nervous. “It’ll work,” Hadith said. “Nobles are so proud they’ll walk themselves into this ocean.”

The war horns blew; the Nobles, certain of their win, raised their swords. The crowds cheered and both sides advanced. There was no point in a charge. The distance between them was too great. Instead, the two scales marched, ratcheting up the morning’s bitter tension with every stride.

When there were two hundred strides separating the eighty men, the crowds fell silent. Another hundred strides and the Crags were quiet enough to hear lizards skittering across the cracked stones that gave the plateau its name.

Chinedu coughed, a loud, whooping sound that broke the spell, startling many in the crowd. A woman fainted, whether from emotion or sun, Tau did not know. Then Hadith raised a fist and it was time.

Scale Jayyed stopped and Hadith stepped forward, setting himself apart from the rest. He called out across the distance, loud enough for the crowds to hear. “Inkokeli Mayumbu Opeyemi of Scale Ojuolape, I have heard you are a Greater Noble slated to be an Ingonyama. I have heard your intelligence and deeds honor the blood of Nobles everywhere, but I would see it proved.”

Mayumbu Opeyemi called a halt and, matching Hadith, he came forward. He was short for a Greater Noble, which meant he was only half a head taller than Uduak, but he was also broader in the shoulders and chest, and his neck was as thick as Tau’s forearms.

Mayumbu’s bald head glistened with sweat and his skin was dark as lightning-charred wood. He cracked his neck and addressed Hadith, his voice a scorpion’s sting. “Before the morning’s done, you’ll have your proof, Lesser.”

“Indeed, and yet, I have an offer you may find interesting.”

“There are no interests between dragons and inyoka.”

“Truly? When what I offer is the Queen’s Melee itself?”

Mayumbu blinked. “I’ll waste no more words on you.”

“I mean what I say, inkokeli. I offer you the melee today. Will you take it?”

“It is not yours to offer, and if it were, I’d tear it from you.”

“Maybe you will, inkokeli. I’ve seen the betting and heard the odds. Mayumbu and his men, favored to come second, behind the greatest Noble initiate to have ever entered the citadel, Inkokeli Kellan Okar of Scale Osa.”

“Little man, I will kill you and crush Okar.”

“And how many men will today cost? How many did you bring to this field? Forty-four? I’m Governor caste. One thing we do very well is count. And, at last count, Okar lost five men in yesterday’s skirmish. Today he faces Scale Ongani under Inkokeli Mukuka Olumide…”

Even from a hundred strides away, Tau could see Mayumbu’s disgust. Scale Ongani was the weakest group of men that had made the melee and, somehow, they had survived day one. After losing forty-two men in the first skirmish, Mukuka would lead no more than twelve against Scale Osa. Kellan would obliterate them.

“We’ll be sequestered. We won’t have the chance to see the glorious battle between Ongani and Osa,” Hadith said, causing laughter to ripple through the crowds, “but I feel confident in its outcome.”

“Make your point,” said Mayumbu.

“Osa will go through to the semifinals and, as we stand now, there is a twenty-five percent chance that one of us will face them—”

“A twenty-five percent chance I will face them!”

“That’s… that’s what I said. Regardless,” Hadith continued, “do you think to battle us here, lose more men, and prevail against Okar? No, Mayumbu. Your journey ends here, on this battleground. Tomorrow is nothing more than a formality—”

“We shall see!”

“Unless…” Hadith smiled his best grin.

Mayumbu licked his lips, ready to order the attack. “Unless what?”

“Unless we find another way.”

“What way, fool?”

“Why risk all our men? Why risk our chance to make it to the semifinals? Why risk anything at all? Here’s my offer, Inkokeli Opeyemi—we, as leaders of our scale, swear before the umqondisi, Gifted, and crowd, to duel for the win. To a man, the loser’s scale will call out for Goddess’s mercy, leaving the winning scale to go through to tomorrow’s combat with the most men possible. With a duel, we give ourselves a real chance at victory, before queen and country.”

Mayumbu inhaled. It was his first breath since comprehending the offer’s gist. The man was caught on Hadith’s hook and Tau knew that Mayumbu was already picturing himself before Queen Tsiora on the melee’s final day.

“I fight you for the win?” Mayumbu asked, eyes closed down to slits.

Hadith chuckled. “No. I may as well beg mercy now, were that the game. We present our best and you present yours.”

Mayumbu snorted. “You mean to test that two-sworded freak against me.”

“I may. I pick one man, you do the same. Doesn’t have to be you, inkokeli. If you don’t believe you can win, put up another.” Hadith spread his arms wide. “That’s the offer.”

Mayumbu pointed to Tau. “You think your kudliwe can beat me?” He laughed. “Give him three swords, I’ll kill him just the same.”

There it was. Hadith had done it. Tau watched him turn to the crowd. “You’ve heard my offer. You’ve heard the Greater Noble and inkokeli, Mayumbu of Scale Ojuolape, declare that he can best our man in single combat. This duel is to mercy, or death, with the remainder of the loser’s scale to accept the result and surrender the skirmish. Women and men of the peninsula, do we have your blessing?”

The crowd screamed their blessings with the thunder of ten thousand voices that threatened to bring the mountain quaking down on all their heads.

Tau had to respect Mayumbu’s self-control. He could tell the inkokeli saw the trap into which he’d stepped. The impressive thing was how fast the man adjusted to the new reality, accepting that a new path had emerged where there had not been one before.

Mayumbu took a careful step on the path, testing its possibilities. “Can this be done?” he shouted to the group of umqondisi officiating the skirmish. The group huddled, conferred, and the lead officiant, a muscled but wiry umqondisi, nodded to Mayumbu.

The night prior, when Jayyed outlined Hadith’s plan, he’d explained that the melee’s rules did not forbid this. So long as Mayumbu accepted, it could be done. Of course, Jayyed also explained, losing the duel did nothing to bind the rest of the scale to its result.

Scale Ojuolape could still attack, wipe out the Ihashe, and move on in the tournament. It was likely they did not know that. It was even more likely that, if their inkokeli lost, their honor would force them to do as promised and they’d forfeit.

It was a good plan, a simple plan. Hadith had played his part. It was Tau’s turn.

“Scale Jayyed calls Tau Solarin, Common of Kerem, Lesser of the Chosen, to fight,” Hadith announced, both hands raised as if he were a priest delivering a holy proclamation. Tau unsheathed his swords and stepped up beside Hadith. The Crags were quiet.

A hundred strides away, Mayumbu’s unit leaders tried to have a word, perhaps to put up another man, perhaps to offer advice. Whatever it was, Tau could not hear and Mayumbu would not listen. He was furious. Again, Hadith’s plan in action.

By naming Tau as both a Common and Lesser, he was goading Mayumbu, telling the crowds that here was a match where the outcome should be as certain as the sun’s rising. A Greater Noble and a Common dueling? What a farce. What a show.

Mayumbu had been burdened with the weight of everyone’s honor. He fought in the name of his scale, the citadel, the Nobles. If he did anything less than demolish Tau, the duel would feel a failure.

“Come, then, Common of Kerem,” said Mayumbu, sword drawn, shield mounted, and advancing. “Let’s get this done and chase the stench of your Lesser stock from the melee.”

Tau said nothing. He twirled his swords, loosening his wrists, and broke into a loping jog. Mayumbu bared his teeth, joined Tau in a run, and bellowed the Noble war cry. “Blood. Will. Show!”