Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) (20 page)

I didn’t know how many people were going to be watching me remotely, but an astronomical number of people crammed into the arena. Row upon row of humanity piled on top of each other—at least two-hundred-high, encircling us. Maybe more impressive than the number of people was how quickly they had managed to congregate. The duel had only been announced yesterday.

We were to bring no weapons, just Mist against Mist. The last time I had faced off without my daggers had been against Kael when, with his blue Mist Lightning crackling between his fingertips, he had defeated me and locked me in his dungeon. But that time, I’d not been expecting a fight, and this time, I was. I breathed deeply as I wove the Mist into shields.

A large pop from a small stick—this place had so many sticks—marked the start of the duel. Not expecting it to be so loud, I jumped and my shields collapsed. Drahwan’s Mist Lightning shot into me, igniting every nerve in my body. I rewove the shields, but that small second that they had been down cost me. My whole body ached. Wave after wave of Mist cascaded down upon me. True to his form, he swirled the Mist in beautiful, but deadly tendrils. He smiled as he shaped the Mist to his will. I could feel my own grip on the Mist lessening, his power chipping away at my Mist shields thread by thread. The power he yielded, pulsating against my dwindling defenses, didn’t feel like it was letting up at all.

I poked a spiky thread of Mist through my shields and forced it into a sharp point. I wove Drahwan’s own tapestry into it. He pulled on a thread, not seeing the trap. My weaving and his own exploded toward him. He somersaulted to the side, even his velvet cape evading any contact with my assault, but I was rewarded by a momentary respite while he bowed to the cheering crowd and then rewove his ruined tapestry.

I wiped a trickle of blood from my mouth. Drahwan turned from the crowd, an evil look in his eye. This was the look he’d given every opponent once he was done playing and it was time for the final kill.

I took a deep breath and brought my shields up again. A defensive fight would not win this for me. I had to be like Altis that day in the courtyard. I needed to get creative. I noticed that off to the right there was a huge stone carving of a lion. I pushed my shields toward Drahwan again to distract him into another obnoxiously effortless and overly dramatic spin to the side. At the same time, I pulled the lion off the roof. I felt the same glee as when I killed Kynna’s father as I heard the sickening sound the stone made upon impact with his skull. The crowd’s cheer at his beautifully executed dodge turned into hushed murmurings. Drahwan had been hit. This had not happened in any of his duels I had watched.

Unfortunately, the blow wasn’t lethal.

It irritated him.

The Mist Lightning in his hands grew into angry white-hot orbs. Even fifteen feet away, I could feel their heat. He hurled them through the air. Igniting against my shields, they started several fires. I hopped over the angry flames as they rushed toward my feet. I could hear jeers from the crowd, or at least those sitting close to the ring.

The air spiraled around me, snuffing out the fire and raising the sand from the floor. It pelted my skin and stung my eyes. My long hair whipped and tangled in the torrent as my whole body lifted off the ground. I whirled head over heels and side to side. Gasping, I inhaled more sand than air, then nothing at all. My vision sparkled with darkness.

I saw the Red Eyes. Understanding dawned. Bahlym and Adara had called The Edges’ prisoner Azabin. I wielded Azabin when I killed Kynna’s father. I wielded Azabin when I fought alongside Altis. Azabin beckoned to me, promising victory. I reached out toward him and wrapped Drahwan’s body in the power. I transcended the Mist. The Mist was a vehicle to this power and in this moment, I was the unsullied conduit.

The air settled. An eerie calm overcame me. I smiled as Drahwan struggled against the invisible bonds, his eyes widening in a combination of surprise and terror. They widened further, bulging ever so slightly as I squeezed him. The crowd shouted, jeered, cheered, booed, and hissed in a jumbled chaos. I could sense each of the three hundred thousand people; I could feel their breaths; I could hear the drumming of their feeble hearts. I could sense the tempting mortality of each person.

Pops of energy filled the stadium. The crowd hushed. They’d come here to witness a spectacle, and that’s exactly what I would give them. Hate broiled red-hot. I shot blasts of power through Drahwan’s arms. His melodic shrieks swam through the air. I hurled Drahwan, his body jettisoned higher than the stadium itself as it flipped and twirled like a dancer.

Arwan appeared in the center of the stadium, roaring a warning. I wanted only to win, not to kill Drahwan. I dropped Azabin’s power and with my own weaving, I caught him in barely enough time to avoid cracking his neck. He crumbled to the ground like a slaughtered lamb. Multiple broken bones pierced clean through his skin. So much blood seeped from every orifice–from his mouth, down his chin, out his nose, pooling beneath him.

I bent down to check for his pulse, relieved that it was still there. It was my right to twist his neck and end his life. The Guardians only know how hard it was to deny Azabin’s hunger. He demanded that I kill this man. But how and why? I stood up and raised both arms over my head, mimicking the victory pose I’d seen Drahwan make after each of his duels.

The whistle blew.

It was over. I had won.

Arwan had vanished. The noise of thousands of cheering people surrounded me. The memory of being able to sense them all burned within me. I felt empty after experiencing the sweet sensation of that awareness. Now my senses felt deadened, normal, and weak.

General Kadir Zirban came over to shake my hand. “Well met, Councilwoman. That was… unexpected to say the least.” Other high-ranking councilmen sauntered over for their own opportunity to be caught on the broadcastible shaking my hand. They murmured under their breaths various congratulatory comments, every word of which, besides the ones expressing surprise, I knew to be a lie. None of these men were the least bit honored to shake my hand or pleased that I still lived.

A stretcher came to remove Drahwan’s limp body. He would live, the paramedics assured me. Their congratulatory words were heartfelt. Perhaps different classes had different opinions on the way the Empire should be run. Drahwan might think that his life after losing to me would be worse than death, but that would be up to him to improve. I touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to him. It wasn’t his fault that he was the most logical choice to duel.

Adara raced over to me. “That. Was. Amazing!”

“Did you see Arwan, the daemon?”

“There was no daemon.”

Bahlym walked over, unwilling to run through the stadium like his sister. “You were toying with him. You could have finished him in any second.”

“I wasn’t toying!” I glanced around the stadium. “You really did not see Arwan?”

The broadcastible on the east side of the arena showed Drahwan, motionless, being slid into a locomobile. The most complex of his severed limbs had already been set, and the bleeding had been stopped and cleaned up.

“His body will heal, but he will be forever broken. His hate will be deep and personal. You should have killed him. Very, very soon you will wish that you had,” Bahlym said.

“No. I’m not that person.” I shivered, knowing that a part of me was that person. A part of me craved his death. “Regardless of what Drahwan will do, winning by taking a life is not a true victory to me.”

“Nor will it be a lasting one,” Bahlym said. “We need more bodyguards.”

“As does father,” Adara pointed out.

Bahlym sighed. “I will contact him. You need to speak with the reporters.”

“Reporters?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s customary.” Adara smoothed my hair with her fingers. “Your hair looks awful. There’s sand everywhere.”

I pushed her hand away. “I almost died. I nearly killed a man. Why are you worried about my hair?” Indignant anger—anger that was mine—filled me. “Didn’t you see the mini-tornado that engulfed me? Of course my hair is a giant tangled ball. What is wrong with you?”

Adara was not upset by my outburst, but seemed humored and continued to attempt to smooth my hair.

“We need to undo some of the damage from that hacked not-live airing from yesterday.” Bahlym started to walk away, expecting that Adara and I would follow him. We walked over to a gaggle of people holding what looked like quills and paper. As soon as I was in ear short, they began to barrage me with questions.

“Are women allowed to duel where you are from?”

“Who taught you?”

“Are you a Guardian?”

I answered all to the best of my ability, trying to sound more collected than I felt and trying not to give away the evil that had flowed through me at the end of the duel.

I did not want to go back to Adara and Bahlym’s apartments. I wanted to find the nearest horse, saddle up, and gallop until time to set up camp, or at the very least bury myself behind a stack of books and learn more about The Edges. Of course, the only book that could tell me how to tear down The Edges and free me from this strange Empire was The Edging of the World, whose letters I could not understand. Yet. And this was why I needed to go to a library. I would find books that would teach me this language. I would learn to read the book. In learning how to fulfill the Promise, I would learn how to get home, which I needed to do before word reached Gryshelm City, because everyone would assume that falling into Gryshelm’s Edge would have killed me. I needed to save them from that pain. Especially Nazarie.

But the hour was late, and all the libraries were closed. That duel had cost me a whole extra day. Adara promised that her collection of books contained numerous texts in over a dozen ancient languages, so I returned with the siblings to their father’s apartments. True to her word, Adara retrieved fifteen books in various ancient texts. I did recognize a few of the languages. I wanted to gobble up those books and learn the secrets they contained, but they were not the secret I sought. I piled those books in a “read later” pile.

Finally, I found one whose words matched those in my book. “Can you read this language?” I asked Adara.

“Of course I can!” she said enthusiastically. “It’s the language of our priests. It’s very common.”

“About time I caught a little luck.” I smiled. “Let’s get started.”

“Started?”

“Yes, I need you to teach me this language.”

“Really?” She gushed.

We spent the next several hours going over the alphabet and basic grammar rules. We were both surprised when the butler brought us dinner. Since the room was interior to the building and the lighting was from the Mist-device, I had no good way to measure the passing of time and we had been so engrossed in studies that we didn’t realize that the day had evaporated. I had missed this. Studying.  Learning.  Guardians’, why couldn’t I have just been a simple scholar?

The butler eyed the books warily before placing the bowls before us.  He labeled the bowls in Cuneiform as he set them down.  The first contained a yogurt-based carrot and beef stew served bread that was unleavened and only as thick as about twenty sheets of paper.  There was also a dip of pureed beans and another of some pureed vegetable.  He bowed slightly before turning to leave us with the food.

Absentmindedly Adara tore a piece of bread and dipped in the stew, folding it to catch a hunk of meat.  I waited for plates or utensils to arrive, but when none did, I followed Adara’s lead and dipped my bread in the stew. As one would expect in a culture separated from my own for millennia, the flavors were very different from what I was accustomed to. Sweet and tangy flavors commingled with hints of both pepper and lemon. Different but good. It was weird to eat without a plate and I kept worrying that I would slop all over the books, which I almost did several times.

Sometime later the butler removed the remnants of our dinner and we kept on studying until Bahlym came announce that our new guards had arrived.

“So quickly?” Adara pushed back from the table.

“It was expedited,” Bahlym explained, ushering three men into the room. Their uniforms matched those of a handful of other guards I’d seen around the Zayad household, employees of the same security provider already in use. All three gazed ahead, alert, their line of sight skimmed the top of my head. None of the men were particularly attractive, but they were strong-looking. More importantly, the Mist rippled around each of them.

“These three new guards will be for you, Promise,” Bahlym informed me.

“This is a bit excessive,” I said. “No offense.”

“You can never be too careful,” Bahlym responded. In retrospect, I would wish that he’d been a little more careful with his guard-selection-process.

I felt large hands grab me over my mouth. For a moment, between awake and asleep, I thought that I was back in Kael’s dungeon. But I wasn’t; I was in my rooms. It was the middle of the night. I opened my mouth to scream, to call out, but no sound emerged.

“Your guards do hear you, Promise,” one of them chuckled. “There is no reason to yell.”

I recognized the voice. It was the guard who had bade me good night hours ago. It seemed that, besides Adara and Bahlym, no one in this Guardian’s forsaken place could be trusted. Not even paid guards. Well, my so-called guards didn’t know who they were dealing with. I bit his hand viciously and added a Mist punch through my teeth for added measure.

He yelled and smacked my face.

Adara and Bahlym were in the apartment, too. I had put them in danger by being here. I grabbed one of the daggers from under my pillow and slashed the man’s throat before he realized what I had done. Sticky, warm liquid ran all over me.

“So you have claws, little one.” Drahwan stepped into the light, his legs already healed without the slightest hint of a limp.

“Couldn’t stand being beaten by a woman in a fair fight, had to bring an unfair one?” I hissed.

“All is fair in politics. You took my seat and the easiest way to get it back is through your death.” Several other men stepped up beside him. I could feel the Mist of all of them push against me and hold me down.

“I don’t want the seat. You can keep it. I want to fulfill the Prophecy.”

“That’s not how the Protocol works. Under duress, your bargains would never hold up. And I’ll be happy to take the burden of the Prophecy from you.”

“I don’t think that’s how the Prophecy works,” I told him.

He nodded at the man I had slain. “Thanks for killing that one. Saves me from paying him.”

I spat, but the Mist was weighing against me so heavily that my own spittle fell right back down onto my eye. I couldn’t move my hand to wipe it away, and I was still covered in the guard’s blood.

Drahwan laughed.

I could feel Azabin beckoning me, promising that Drahwan’s death would release me, would save me. I pushed against the Mist that bound me. I wanted him to shut Drahwan up. I focused on his throat. I focused on making his laughter stop. He put his hands to his neck, gasping for breath. His face turned bluish and he stopped struggling. I released Drahwan and he fell to the ground, but the man lying unconscious on the floor didn’t look like Drahwan anymore. Drahwan had used a cat’s paw.

“Who is next?” I asked.

The men looked around, clearly not understanding what I said. I picked two men at random and cut off their air. The others fled. I let the two men breathe, but held them still with my Mist. The others would escape, but that was fine. I only needed one of them to implicate Drahwan. Trying to detain all the men would have been very taxing.

“Let’s go find Bahlym.” I made my prisoners follow me. Bahlym immediately got on his audible and started making calls. He begged me to go to sleep and allow him to handle the rest of the “situation.”

The next morning, two men wearing deep purple short-sleeved uniforms came to the apartment. Bahlym explained that these two were employed by the Empire to track down and deal with criminals. “I am sorry, but there is insufficient evidence to proceed with the investigation,” said one of the officers, with shoulder-length blond hair secured to the side with a black band. “The two men captured will be tried in a court of law.”

“But Drahwan tried to kill me!” I protested. “Why can’t you arrest him?”

The blond officer’s jaw dropped at my words. But the other laughed. “I heard you didn’t like our Protocols.” He stepped in front of his partner who was still trying to decide how to react to my vocalization. “I am sorry, but all you have is a man who glamoured himself to look like Drahwan. These men claim that the only goal was to scare you.”

“Drahwan put out an immediate statement saying how pro-women he is,” Bahlym said.

“And that statement doesn’t tip you off?” Adara asked icily. “You and father are the only two with Council seats who really are pro-women, and that’s because you want us to be able to work in your factories!”

Bahlym gripped Adara’s elbow. “Just because the Promise does not understand Protocol does not give you the right to speak.”

“The only evidence we have is motive,” the second officer offered. “Drahwan’s far from the only person with an agenda. Everyone has one. It is quite possible that it wasn’t him.”

Adara pulled her elbow free from Bahlym’s grasp. “Besides, Drahwan loves attention. I really don’t see him acting in private.”

“It’s almost worse if it is not Drahwan,” I pointed out. “A nameless threat is much more dangerous than someone we could track.”

The blond officer had regained his composure and bowed to Bahlym. “We will see ourselves out. Thank you for your time.” He motioned to his partner who bowed to Bahlym, and then, surprisingly to Adara and then myself before turning to leave.

“I am sorry that I grabbed you,” Bahlym told Adara, “but we must work within Protocol if you wish to be successful.”

“You do not take enough risks,” Adara accused. Sitting down on the sofa, she smoothed her knee-length dress. “I think that no one will try anything so blunt in the future. But I assure you, they may try other things. You should see what they say about me in the papers.”

“What else could they try?” I asked.

As if summoned by my words, the buzzer rang. Bahlym pushed a couple of buttons, and a few moments later, a messenger boy entered the apartment. He handed a piece of paper to Bahlym who in turn gave the boy a coin.

“This,” Bahlym said as he set down the note. “The Council is holding an emergency session and my official note got lost.”

“When does it start?” I asked.

“A half hour ago.”

It took me less than fifteen minutes to make myself presentable to go before the Council, but by the time we got there, the session had been going on for an hour.

“Promise, I am so glad that you could make it,” General Kadir Hamrham Zirban said. “We tried to wait, but when you didn’t arrive…” He shrugged.

“It seems our invitations did not arrive. Luckily a friend sent me a message,” Bahlym said and then dipped his head toward the general. “My apologies.”

“How unfortunate,” Drahwan said as he handed me one of the ink-less quills.  “Luckily you are just in time to sign our marriage license for yourself.”

“You are deluded,” I said simply.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Kadir told me. “You are alone in this world with no family. It is improper for a young woman to live like that. And you have the child to think about. Drahwan has agreed to adopt it and take upon himself the burden of your role so that you may raise your baby.”

“I’m not signing it. You are wasting my time and yours.”

“That’s fine. I can sign it for you.” Drahwan bent over the desk and signed a piece of paper.  “I was about to sign for you as it was.”

“Congratulations, Ambassador Promise Councilman Dehdarad on your nuptials,” Kadir shook Drahwan Dehdarad hand and the entire Council room erupted in cheers.

“But I’m the Promise.”

“Titles and property are conferred to the husband upon marriage,” Bahlym explained.

“All right, my beautiful bride,” Drahwan reached for my hand, which I snatched away from him. “Let’s go collect your things from the Zayad household.”

Bahlym, still standing next to me, shook Drahwan’s hand. “Yes, congratulations. I will hurry ahead and gather her things for you. Every happiness,” he said, giving me a hug, and then whispered in my ear. “Play along. I have an idea. I will see you at the apartments. Ride over with Drahwan.”

“I am not going anywhere with him,” I hissed, but Drahwan pulled me away from Bahlym.

“Come along, my dear. I am anxious to see my book, The Edging of the World. And consummating the marriage should be fun, too.” He winked at me, but more for the crowd in the Council building.

I breathed deeply resisting the urge to knee him in the groin. Bahlym asked me to play along. Fine. “I guess we will see if you can read the book. Then at least I can go home.”

“But you are home.” Drahwan led me to his locomobile. “I’m not a bad person.”

“I don’t think you could convince me otherwise in a thousand years.”

“I’ve forgiven you for beating me and for not killing me. I told you that you should have.”

“I’ve not forgiven myself for not killing you,” I quipped. “You actually do care if I think you are a bad person. You need everyone’s adoration. That’s why you are so theatrical. But good people don’t try to kill someone in their sleep.”

“The marriage is a more legitimate way to regain my power. I was not behind the attack. I wouldn’t have gotten my Council seat back under that kind of scrutiny. I’m not the enemy.
You
challenged
me
, remember?”

“We are not married,” I said in frustration.

“You are in the Empire now, Hailey. We are married.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You can live on a resort in the south for all I care. I’ll set you up with a reasonable allowance to do what you will with your life so long as you don’t hurt my public image any further. I told you that I didn’t want to be the Promise. Neither of us likes this, but you are the one who started these events.” We had arrived at the building where Bahlym lived. “I’ll wait for you while you collect your things and say your goodbyes. See, I am not unreasonable.”

I entered the elevator and selected the button for Bahlym’s floor, immediately the elevator began its assent. Bahlym waited for me at the elevator’s exit. “Adara has gotten everything ready.”

“Ready?” I asked, following him inside.

“Okay, grab your bags,” Adara told us. “We have to move quickly.” Then she turned to Bahlym. “I suppose father’s plausible-deniability trip did turn out to be prudent.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“Our supplies.” Adara shuffled the contents of another bag then slung it over her shoulder. “Bahlym sent me a text message. I have a hovercraft up on the roof. Your things are in there, don’t worry.”

“And you said that I don’t take risks,” Bahlym said.

“I’ll never be able to say that again,” Adara smiled. “I am proud of you, brother.”

“Where are we going?” I asked. Not that I’d know what it meant.

“The mountains,” Bahlym said.

Adara’s eyes widened. “The mountains? They’ll kill us. When I said risks, I meant reasonable ones.”

“There is nowhere else safe from the arm of the Empire.” Bahlym unzipped a bag rummaged around inside, re-zipped it, and slung it over his shoulder.

“If it is unsafe, just tell me how to get there. You don’t have to come with me,” I said.

“Only I can fly the hovercraft. Besides, helping a bride escape her husband is punishable by death. We have to go with you,” Bahlym said.

“Why are you helping me? You are leaving behind everything.”

“The Guardians risked the gods’ wrath in order to create the Prophecy. Who am I to do less when challenged with keeping the Prophecy’s Promise safe? I am a cleric before I am a Councilman,” said Bahlym. “Now hurry up before they realize what’s going on and kill us all.”

We ran up the stairs toward the roof, passing Bahlym’s paintings. I wondered what kind of person he would have been if he’d been born to a different family, a family with less responsibility. On impulse, I grabbed one of the paintings, grasping it as gingerly as possible, hoping that I didn’t ruin it even as I tried to save it.

As I filed into the fight carriage, Bahlym glared at the painting. “Why did you bring that?”

“I thought it might let you see that you are more than this Empire.”

“Thank you,” his voice scratched with emotion. At his initial reaction, I’d thought that I’d misjudged when I grabbed the painting, but he sounded pleased. The craft buzzed as the Channeled Mist oozed around it. I peered out the window at Drahwan’s car on the street below. We floated upward and the car seemed to shrink.

“Has either of you visited the Mitanni?” I asked.

Adara and Bahlym both looked incredulous. “No one has gone to the mountains and returned in more than eight generations.”

“Eight generations? And there has been no contact since?”

“Not unless you count blood bath sieges that the Empire tries every century or so,” Bahlym said.

“Why don’t you co-exist? We’ve other countries in our Slice.”

“We used to,” said Bahlym.

“The Empire and the Mitanni lived in a tenuous truce,” Adara explained. “In addition to general diplomatic relations, we would send children to be fostered in the mountains, and they would send children to us. One boy, Danue, was the son of the chief priest of the Mitanni. He fell in love with a girl named Krineem, but she was betrothed to marry the general, so they ran away to the mountains.”

“Why didn’t she call off the wedding?” I asked.

“It doesn’t work like that. You are Drahwan’s property, and I am Merehan’s.”