Tau angled away, moving parallel to Kellan and Abasi as the KaEid gestured at the world around them.
“Our peninsula,” she said, “is one of the Goddess’s greatest gifts. It is a home where we are protected by ocean, mountains, the Curse, and Guardians.”
Tau wondered if the KaEid had ever seen a raid. There was nothing about that day at Daba that had seemed safe. Hadn’t the hedeni navigated the coastline of that protective ocean? Had they not climbed the peninsula’s mountains? Had they not killed Chosen in their beds that night?
“Xidda is our proving ground. It exists to make us strong enough to end the world’s greatest evil. We will pass the Goddess’s test and defeat the hedeni. Then, triumphant, strong, we will return to our homeland. We will return to Osonte and end the Cull!”
Tau wasn’t afraid of the Cull, of the mythical silver-skinned immortals. He’d never seen them. He knew no man, woman, or child who’d ever seen them. They were fairy tales to hide the real evil, the evil on the stage in front of him.
“There are challenging times ahead,” the KaEid told them. “The hedeni have once again formed alliances among their savage tribes.”
The crowd was unsettled by that admission, and the ripple of fear rooted many in place, making it difficult for Tau to push through and keep ahead of the two guardsmen following him.
“They are many! Ten to every one of us,” the KaEid cried out. “But we stand firm against them. We are the unbroken cliff that cleaves the endless ocean.” The KaEid had the crowd. They were quiet, listening. “What are countless hordes in the face of faith and righteousness? Nothing! What are spears and axes against the unyielding bronze of the greatest military the world has ever known? Nothing! What are savages… against the rage of dragons?”
The crowd roared and the honored warriors on the stage lifted their dragon-scale weapons in the air. The cheer was deafening, and in trying to evade the guardsmen, Tau was almost to the platform. Two more steps and he’d be close enough to see the individual beads of sweat on Kellan’s forehead.
“I see him!”
The cry came from a guardsman ten strides ahead. The man’s sword was clear of its scabbard and he was with two others. They were off to the right, between Tau and the platform, and were trying to coordinate with the guards behind him, trying to box him in.
“The Chosen must fight faithlessness,” said the KaEid to the masses. “The Chosen must fight the hedeni. We do the Goddess’s bidding and She blesses our valley, holding the curse that blights the rest of Xidda at bay.”
One of the Lessers—he looked to be from the Governor caste—stood his ground against the guards coming for Tau, complaining about their rough treatment as they tried to muscle past. The closest guard bashed the man in the face. The Governor crumpled and was snatched up by the other two, who must have thought the mouthy Lesser to be part of the commotion.
Tau shot a look at the platform. The KaEid was still speaking, and most of the gathered were focused on her. Kellan, however, had noticed the disturbance. He hadn’t seen Tau, but his eyes scanned the mass of people and Tau shrank back, feeling an instinctual need to hide.
“You, there!” the nearest guard shouted, pointing to Tau. “Hold!”
The crowd cheered the KaEid, the guard drew closer, and Tau took a step back. He needed time to think and had none with which to do it.
“Stop!” Time was up. The guard was within reach, shoved a Common out of the way, and stretched to grab at Tau.
Tau recoiled, slapped down the grasping arm, turned, and ran, forcing his way out of the crowd, away from the platform, and away from Kellan Okar and Abasi Odili.
He couldn’t let himself be caught. He couldn’t lose his chance at justice. He wanted Kellan to join his father, the coward Okar, in ignominy. He wanted Dejen’s loss and death at a Lesser’s hand to blight the Olujimi name for generations.
More than anything, he needed to face Abasi Odili and make him suffer. He already knew, with a seer’s clarity, how it would end between them. He’d fight him in front of a crowd of Nobles and Lessers, he’d make it brutal, he’d make it last, and before it was over, he’d break the Royal Noble’s spirit. Odili would beg for death.
As Tau ran, desperate to escape the city guards, the dream of it was all that mattered. He wasn’t ready to destroy his foes, but he would be, and the first step on the path to vengeance lay before him. The testing began in the morning, and Tau would fight to win his place among the Ihashe or die in the attempt.
MATCH
He lost the city guards in the crowd. Tau had climbed a building, a store it looked like, and hidden on the roof to wait for them to pass. When it seemed safe, he’d climbed down, twisting his ankle on a loose rock. He was fine but had to limp his way through the city’s poorer sections, looking for a place to rest.
That night he slept at the dead end of a short alley with his back pressed against its rearmost wall, watching the entrance. He placed his swords and pack behind him, hoping no one would risk a fight over his meagre possessions. Tau was hungry but too tired for an empty stomach to keep him awake, and he fell asleep sitting.
He woke before dawn, tired, and knew he should sleep more but couldn’t. Instead, he waited until the sun’s heat returned to the world, gathered his things, and went looking for the famed Heroes’ Circle, where the Ihashe testing took place.
He found it by following the throng of armed young men, and walking alongside them, he tried to blend in. He drew looks anyway. The reactions made him worry he’d be turned away on appearance alone. He was dirty and smelled worse than he looked, and the scabbing wound, winding its way from nose to cheek, didn’t help. True, every Lesser had the right, some would say duty, to test for the Ihashe, but Tau didn’t relax until he saw others in equally rough shape.
In threadbare clothing, carrying rusting equipment and often barefoot, they were Low Commons from the smallest hamlets. They’d have had inadequate training, they’d be malnourished, and there was little chance of them passing the testing. Given Tau’s condition, it was hard to think he’d fare better.
The Heroes’ Circle was larger than the one in which the Guardian Ceremony had taken place, and it was filled with thousands of men. Traditionally, one in ten would pass the testing, allowing them to be trained at the Ihashe isikolo. The failures, especially if they were Low or High Commons, would have to become Ihagu or, refusing that, Drudge.
Ihagu were nothing more than guards, foot soldiers, and fodder, often first to die in battle, and most important, they did not receive official military status. Tau had to have military status, and that meant he had to be better than nine of every ten men in the circle.
“Test takers!” yelled a hard-faced Ihashe warrior in his middle years. “Line up.” He was old enough to have been to the front lines and put in his time, and still had elected to serve another term. He was a full-blood Ihashe, a military man through and through. “You’ll get a number and linen with which to wrap your practice sword. Wrap it well. If the linen falls loose or you draw blood because of an uncovered edge, you lose your match.”
Tau and the men around him formed up as the Ihashe explained the rest.
“The rules are simple. The Proven who attends your fight will count each hit you make as a point, and they’ll give your opponent a point for each hit you take. You win if your opponent begs for the Goddess’s mercy or if you’ve more points when the match ends.