A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 58
"Six out of ten. Not bad." He leaned forward with a smile. "Would you care to make a wager?"
"No." Celivia met his gaze and smiled back. "Unless the wager is that you have some sein art that will allow you to knock all ten off the board."
That got a short laugh and the man stopped toying with his caltrop. "I've done you wrong, Naena. But are you sure you won't compete in the same trial between cohorts? Competition will be fiercer, but I think you could manage three in one strike."
"No, thank you. I know better than to compete on the cohort level."
"If you insist." The man's eyes slid down, but it settled on her whip instead of her hips. "Why do you use a technique like that? I'll admit, you might be able to deal a mortal wound in the instant your opponent is surprised. But to redirect the entire whip in midair must consume your sein at a terrible rate."
"I'll admit it's inefficient, but it's how I've trained." Celivia paused, curious if he would push further, but the man only shrugged and went back to making his caltrop dance over his hands. Though she was mildly curious what he would do, she decided not to indulge the trial any longer. The ribbon around her arm would be enough to prove herself to her band.
Instead she roamed the valley to see what other trials occurred, again finding no sign of Reina. She found Big Ragh lying on his back, queasy and bloated after having apparently entered two more eating contests. He required Ghasfik and Celivia's help to return to their camp, and the entire trip she worried that he would vomit on her.
The most interesting competition she found was one between builders who constructed elaborate shields of wood and metal. Two Catai then took up a pair of shields and smashed them together until one of the constructs broke apart. Celivia wouldn't have believed that ordinary soldiers would ever have run a contest of ingenuity.
Huthur competed with a shield covered with cleverly-constructed wooden pyramids. Though they broke quickly, they often damaged the other shield first. His shield did not win the competition, but it endured longer than any shield not constructed by Wahleenese soldiers. Before leaving, Celivia made sure to clap him on the shoulder in congratulations.
"Having fun, Celi?" A shadow fell over her face and Celivia turned to see Ghalia behind her, grinning and bearing three ribbons. They wouldn't fit around her enormous bicep, so she let them dangle from her bracer. "We should try something, just like old times."
"If it's a contest of strength, we both know you'd win," Celivia said. But Ghalia shook her head, put an arm around her shoulders, and guided her across the grounds.
"No, I've found something better. This is about sein arts, not strength."
Soon they arrived at a rough combat circle, but this one had a twist: two wooden half-spheres rocking with the flat sides up. Soldiers balanced atop them and tried to strike at one another. Some failed to keep their balance even simply standing, falling and laughing with one another. She noticed Splinters test himself against a soldier in another band; when his opponent jostled his platform and knocked him down, he tore away cursing too quickly for Celivia to say anything.
Several others from her band were present as well, but Celivia had no time to greet them. Ghalia pulled her further in, shoving aside several soldiers who had intended to use the pair next.
"Come on, Celi. I don't know if this will hold me, but I'll try." Ghalia leapt up and landed with her feet centered, making the wooden platform creak.
Instead of moving up so quickly, Celivia put her foot on one side, testing the balance of the platform. It wasn't a perfect half-sphere, with bumps that made it roll unevenly. But since Ghalia was waiting, Celivia pinned one end down, set her other foot on the opposite side, and let herself rock up to a balanced position.
"Everything is fair but weapons!" Ghalia promptly thrust one hand forward, intending to simply push Celivia off.
She ducked underneath the other woman's outstretched hand and reached out, trying to push Ghalia's leg. As expected, Ghalia immediately kicked, the movement sending Celivia rocking back. But she had anticipated that and, crouching low to the platform, turned the momentum into a rolling movement. In a flash she had rolled fully around, this time lashing out with a sweeping kick.
Attempting to harm Ghalia's leg would have been foolish, so instead Celivia merely used her momentum to shove her. It nearly worked, Ghalia stumbling a half-step and then wobbling violently as she struggled to maintain her balance. Celivia would have attempted again, but after her rolling gambit, she was having trouble with balance herself.
As she rose, she saw a real glare on Ghalia's face. The other woman had always been competitive, but was there something more there? Ghalia clenched a fist over her heart and Celivia heard her sein like a whirlwind. She realized that Ghalia was using a real technique on her just as the other woman moved.
Instead of any attempt to redirect the force, Celivia reacted with combat instincts, bracing her arms in front of her face. Ghalia's fist hit violently, followed by a cascade of sein that overwhelmed her defenses.
Celivia slammed onto her back and let out a groan. She sat up, rubbing her bruised forearms, and saw Ghalia roaring in triumph with her fists over her head. The force from her punch had sent her backward off her platform as well, but with her opponent sent flying, there was no question who had been the victor.
"Are you well, Celi?"
The voice surprised Celivia almost more than the punch. She leapt to her feet to find Jeraeli behind her, dressed in an elaborate robe that draped artfully around her chest and hips. Again she wore her impractical sharp heels... though she also wore a ribbon around her arm.
"Only surprised." Celivia brushed off her arms, ignoring the pain stabbing through them. "That wasn't the full version of the technique, Ghalia just likes to go overboard."
"I'm not so sure it's only that." Jeraeli pursed her lips and stared toward the combat circle. "You do see what she's doing, don't you? Your men are more loyal to her now than they are to you."
"What? Ghali? That's absurd."
"Look at what she's done, Celi. Really look."
Though Celivia watched, noting the members of her band who celebrated Ghalia's victory, in the end she shook her head. "Ghalia is a respected Catai in Xetsu's legions. The only reason she even submitted to coming to Breilin was to help me."
"You may be right." Jeraeli smiled in apology, but her eyes suggested that her opinion remained unchanged.
Once more Celivia looked at Ghalia, briefly meeting the gaze of her old friend. Ghali grinned in triumph, but it was the same grin as always. She had always been more competitive than any of them, so this was nothing new. Though it had been years since they had truly spent time together, they hadn't fundamentally changed.
"I've had enough of competitions." Jeraeli tossed her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated sigh. "Would you like a good drink and something to eat that hasn't been drowned in fat?"
Celivia followed her without hesitation. This might be their last chance before the violence started.
Chapter 42
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"When first they fought, the battle tore them apart. Yet in those days, the tides of battle brought them together again. When next they fought, Emdore was victorious, yet he stayed his hand, admiring the skill of his opponent and the joy of their battle. When they fought for a third time, Emlioon was victorious, but instead of striking a final blow, she removed her helm and declared that she wanted nothing more than to go on fighting him, not as enemies but as fellow errants."
- excerpt from The Tale of Emdore and Emlioon
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"Piss-fucking shit," Veron muttered to herself. It wasn't so much cursing as hoping by this point.
Her task was supposed to have been so easy. Just wait until all the armies had marched off, then slip into the mine. The guards were fucking idiots, so that part had been no problem. And then that statue had shown up. That damn statue.
Another group of soldiers marched around the side of the mine and Veron had to break from her hiding position. Though she'd stolen a ragged cloak like the mine workers' and tied up her hair, no one would think she was a Deathspawn for a hot second if they actually looked at her.
Yet as she ducked behind an unused wheelbarrow, Veron spotted yet more Deathspawn shuffling toward her. She acted on pure instinct, dropping into a partially dug hole. Once she was inside, she actually found herself wondering what possible purpose it served. Whatever it was, she just thanked fuck that it wasn't a latrine.
Since a large ridge blocked her position from guards on half the upper reaches of the mine, Veron dared to peer out once the footsteps had died down. The soldiers had gone, but the second group still shuffled on. They weren't like the soldiers, just a bunch of shabby, lifeless fuckers. Though Veron had no idea what they actually were, she'd seen those hollow expressions many times before in the gutters.
She dropped back down with her back against the rock. It should have been easy. Melal had ordered her to grab the seal thing and get it to him before he returned to the Sage. Making up for his failings, basically. But if he was a big damn Hero, shouldn't the sacred mission he'd given her have gone easier?
Instead, she was scrabbling between rocks, desperate for her life. Part of her wondered if this was her fault. The truth was that she had been hoping to take the seal for herself. If it was really part of the Legend, maybe if she had it when Melal got himself killed, the power would pass to her. Could the Legend see her insincerity somehow? The doubting part of herself actually felt a bit guilty, as if she'd betrayed something that she cared about.
Veron punched that part of herself in the face and got moving again.
Nobody was lurking around the base of the mine now, so the real problem was all the guards on the upper tiers. Not so many of them, but only one had to look over at the wrong time and see her. Veron kept to cover as much as she could, thankful that the miners had left increasingly random piles of rock lying around. All the workers seemed to be focused on digging deeper, not on carting away the rocks, like they were rushing for something.
She nearly ran into the back of one of the emaciated workers and leapt back into hiding. Almost stabbed the bastard for frightening her like that. None of the workers had any strength to speak of, so it was too easy to just run into them.
Once the idiot moved on, Veron crept past him and up the most secluded of the ramps. From there, she could look around the corner and check the other guards. When all were marching away from her, she leapt up to the next ridges. The mine had too many of them, but now she thought she could make her way out.
As she landed, she saw that damn statue walk out of the tunnel just beneath her.
Cursing under her breath, Veron hit the ground and quenched all the strength in her body. She knew that she should back up, but her body felt too heavy. Now she could see the back of the statue and the other Deathspawn, which meant that they would only need to turn around to see her. All she could do was hold her breath.
"The tunnel is growing unstable, Zeitai." One of the Deathspawn fawned over the statue. They were jabbering away in the Deathspawn language, as if that could stop her, but Veron had picked up more of it than she let on. "We need to slow down or we risk losing more workers."
Veron had suspected the statue was a Zeitai from the moment she saw him. He looked like somebody had carved him out of solid rock, which reminded her of that monster in Bundlin. That Zeitai had looked more like a suit of armor and he'd had the nerve to spare her. This one... she wouldn't take the bet.
"What we seek could be more valuable than the lives of everyone here." The Zeitai Statue turned to glower at the underling. At least Veron assumed he glowered, the way the other Deathspawn cringed. "I want it found before I depart."
"Zeitainan, it's more difficult than that." Another Deathspawn had the balls to speak up, despite Statue's glare. "If this tunnel does collapse, it would cost us days of work."
"Assuming that bitch was right about the location. I wish..." Statue turned to the side and Veron's breath caught as he nearly faced her, but he only rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. "Maybe she was wrong."
"Would you like us to send Laeluon for her? She's participating in the campaign in the Sotunn Mountains."
After a long pause, Statue shook his head. "No. No, she might have been wrong. I'll send more workers when I can. Put tools in the hands of the females and start mining in all directions again. Do it slowly if you must. But keep looking until you find whatever the humans hid here."
"Of course, Zeitainan."
Statue and his cohort finally moved away. Their words grew softer until Veron couldn't hear them anymore, but they didn't talk about anything that mattered to her. She just lay in the dirt and tried not to breathe.
The Zeitai scared the shit out of her. He didn't just look like a statue, she was willing to bet his body was as hard as rock too. She couldn't win even if she managed a perfect ambush. Not that an ambush would work. Something about the way he moved told her that he had a brute combination of strength and speed that simply couldn't be overcome, kick to the crotch or no.
Yet that was nothing compared to the statue in Bundlin. Xetsu hadn't scared the shit out of her, he'd terrified her to the point where profanity felt tawdry and pathetic. His power had been a storm encompassing the sky, curling on itself as it swept over her, uncaring that she even existed. She'd been nothing but a child scared of the thunder.
As soon as Statue was out of sight, Veron slapped herself across the face to clear her head. No, she needed to focus. Xetsu hadn't been a damn storm, he'd simply been overwhelmingly strong. The Zeitai in the Maenfu or whatever it was called might be a lot stronger than her too, but it wasn't the same. Most importantly, this was the second time she'd nearly encountered him, and she'd stayed hidden both times.
Xetsu would have known.
Veron gathered herself and crept the rest of the way up the side of the mine. Her job was a hell of a lot easier because all the guards were still watching where Statue had gone. Seeing a Zeitai was a big deal for them too, and she'd noticed one or two faint. She'd have mocked them as being foolish girls if she hadn't felt that crushing presence herself.
Damn, she needed a drink. Veron could almost taste the whiskey in her mouth... and then realized that she really did.
She pulled her strength inward and dove into hiding just before a pair of Deathspawn walked toward the entrance ramp. One heartbeat later and they'd have seen her. Hell, they'd have found her if they had been paying any attention instead of talking to each other about some Deathspawn shit.
Even the familiar taste in her mouth turned bad. Both of them were strong, stronger than her. Maybe not like Statue, but enough to kill her. Just like some of the errants she'd seen and that damn woman back in Torgaadi.
As soon as the horizon was clear, Veron fled the mine. Soon she was out into the hills, far from any roads. She should have been able to relax, yet her mind was still trapped behind her. So many powerful bastards coming out of the woodwork. It wasn't fair.
Yet she had always known this, in some quiet part of herself. Veron knew that she was stronger than most people she met, and as a bandit in the Chorhan Expanse, that was enough. But what worked against untrained merchants didn't cut it in places where everyone was fully trained. If she kept following the Hero, she knew that she wouldn't be able to do the smart thing and hide, she'd just keep facing more warriors like that.
"Shit-fucking piss," Veron muttered to herself. She hated the idea, but she realized that she didn't have a choice. She wasn't going to abandon the kids and she couldn't quit the Hero. Yet again, there wasn't really any choice.
It was time to go back and swallow her pride. It tasted as awful as a lot of things she could name.
Chapter 43
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"It may shock the gentle reader to learn of the strange customs in Espal and Wahleen. Despite its excesses, Espal is far too restrictive with women's hair, requiring them to wrap it entirely in tedious cloths. By contrast, Wahleenese ladies wear only a hood, leaving their hair visible to entice men. Certain ladies, not even those of ill repute, may wear nothing but veils. A proper Portantese lady might deign to wear wraps or hoods, provided their hair is properly braided underneath."
- Portantese Young Lady's Handbook
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For years, Estronn had been at peace within its own borders. All disputes between sects or landowners were settled by controlled contests, test of skill if the disagreement was amicable or duels between mage warriors if it was not. Violent conflicts with the Corans and later the Deathspawn had been contained before they could spiral out of control.
But oh, they remembered war.
Laeri had always found her history classes dull, no matter how her instructors attempted to awe her with the stories of great healers and other sein users of the past. Those accomplishments stood like flimsy shadows compared to the glory of the Legend. When they spoke of war and its many casualties, she had dreamed of the final war that would end all others.
Now, as she stared out over the village of injured warriors, Laeri desperately wished that she had listened more carefully. This was only the beginning, the attrition from initial conflicts against the Deathspawn or other clans. How much worse would true war be? When the time came, how could she choose who she saved?
"Are you alright, Laeri?"
The voice startled her and for a moment Laeri was convinced that the man she was healing had somehow changed from a gruff baritone to a woman's voice. She tumbled out of her own thoughts, mind askew, and realized the situation. The arm beneath her hands had been healed long ago, she was releasing sein to no effect, and the voice had been from Nolise standing behind her.
After reprimanding herself for careless work, since mindless healing arts led to flesh knots, Laeri stood up to face the errant. Nolise looked much like all the others, her armor only slightly thinner than average. It had taken some time for Laeri to truly accept that the other woman was actually a healer despite her armor. Instead of a grim helmet, her helm lined her face and curved into wings that signified a healing errant.
