A Stolen Crown (25 page)

Not so long ago, when she was younger, she had killed many others. They had been people who served her mother and who had only been trying to help her, but sometimes, because she was afraid, or because she did not understand her own strength, Lexi had quickly discovered how easily she could hurt people. She also discovered that did not like it, and she tried to avoid it but it happened sometimes. Even though she never hurt anyone on purpose, it was not long before she began to smell fear on the people at the palace when they were around her and, before long, she also began to sense their unspoken hatred and revulsion toward her.

The worst part was, the first few times she made those kinds of mistakes, her mother had praised her for it. Her brother Draxis had even cheered her on, at one point even suggesting that they have a competition over who could kill the most people. When Calexis had heard about her son's idea, she had forbidden it as being impractical. They were only allowed to kill when she told them to do so. But when Lexi's mother had commanded her to kill people like the instructors who were supposed to teach her things or the people who had displeased the queen, Lexi had refused. Calexis was not pleased, and after a while, Lexi had become an outcast. Permitted to exist by her mother, but ignored by most except her brother who would do his best to antagonize her whenever she was unfortunate enough to run into him, Lexi had taken to spending most of her time on her own, wandering through the forests outside the city.

As ashamed as Lexi was about what had happened this day, she was also angry. Draxis had tricked her into feeling even guiltier about killing Razak but now she knew he was only angry that he had not been the one to do it. From what she had learned about Darga culture, her brother would probably display Razak's head for all to see and claim leadership of the Darga tribe. That was what he wanted, to have power and to kill. Lexi hated him for that and she hated her mother for encouraging it. She realized that Calexis was no different, always conspiring with her generals and the mage-priests on how to take more power from people who lived in faraway lands. It seemed that was all anyone thought about, was how to hurt other people and how to take from them. It made no sense to her and she could not understand why things had to be that way.

From her vantage point up in the treetop, Lexi looked in the direction of the city and she realized that she did not want to go back there. She looked all around at the land and the distant horizon and decided she would leave and go far away from her brother, her mother, and all the people like them. She wondered if there were people in the world who did not want to hurt others for no reason, people who just lived their lives without fighting all the time. As she thought about it, she remembered her mother saying the people of the west were weak and Calexis had called them pathetic, the same thing Draxis had called her. Lexi took a deep breath and felt a spike of pain from her bruised ribs. Her brother had hurt her very badly but she was a fast healer and Lexi knew her injuries were not too serious. She jumped down from the top of the tree, making her way from branch to branch as she descended to the forest floor and, once her feet hit the ground, she headed west, away from everything she had ever known.

“Olgar the Dog. Now he’s a big man!” Malek said, pointing out one of the names on the list of fighters that was posted on a wall. “I saw him fight three summers ago. Crushed a man’s skull with one blow of his axe.”

He frowned when he saw another name then turned away from the wall, shaking his head. They had arrived at the desert city of Forsina the night before and Malek had managed to convince the dock master to let him tie his boat on the agreement that he would pay the fee before the day was out. It had taken some talking to come to the arrangement but Malek had been to Forsina many times before and was well known at the docks for always having dealt fairly so an exception was made, a rare thing in a city where money in hand was considered the only thing of any value.

Getting an early start on the day, Aaron and Carly accompanied Malek to the center of town where the fighting circles were located. The area was a large, open square that was surrounded by taverns and tables where vendors were already beginning to set up their wares in anticipation of the fights that would begin later in the day. At the center of the area were a series of stone circles embedded in the ground, five in total. In between the fighting circles, there was a kind of rounded wall of stone that was greyish-black, its color contrasting with the light brown sand of the town. As they drew near to the wall, Aaron could see why it was so much darker than everything around it. The names of the fighters were written in charcoal on the rough stone and, from the faded smudges, it was obvious that people had been writing on the wall for some time. Malek stared at the list of names and grunted then he spit on the ground, looking perturbed.

“Is there a problem?” Aaron asked.

“You might say that.”

“Well, what is it?” Carly prompted, glancing at the list to see if she could figure out what had him so worried.

“Kasha,” he said, pointing at a name on the wall. “I didna' think he'd be here.”

“Who is Kasha?” Aaron asked. Malek turned and stared at Aaron with a look of incredulity then he laughed and threw up his hands in disbelief.

“Who is Kasha, he asks. The boy’s doomed, and now I've got to find another way to pay the fees on my ship.” Malek trudged away across the dusty square.

“So, who is he?” Aaron asked Carly this time. She shrugged and they both followed after Malek.

“Malek,” Carly called after him. “Who is Kasha?”

“Don't bother me, I'm getting a drink,” he grunted and kept walking.

“There was a tavern right there?” Carly told him, pointing back the way they had come.

“Too expensive. I'm going to need every coin I've got if I'm going to get my ship back.”

“Okay,” Carly said as she ran around in front of him, standing in his way. “There's something wrong, but how can we fix it if you don't tell us what the problem is? Now tell me, who is this Kasha who's got your bits in a knot?”

“Kasha is…” Malek paused, shaking his head again. “Kasha might be the greatest living sword fighter anywhere, in any land. No one can beat him. Fools from all around wait around in this town, sometimes for months, hoping to lay a challenge on Kasha and most get dropped in the dirt and count themselves lucky if they don't get killed. Now do you see the problem?”

“Come on,” Carly said, putting her hand on his chest, holding him back. “How do you know Aaron isn't better?”  Malek glanced at Aaron and almost laughed.

“I mean ye no offense, but if you can last even a ten count in the circle with Kasha, I'll eat my hat,” Malek said. “Now get out of my way so I can get a drink and figure out who to bet on in the fights.”

Malek pushed past Carly and headed toward a shabby looking desert cantina. Aaron felt his spirits sink. From his time at the Academy he had discovered that after the years of training Tarnath made him do, he was pretty good with a sword, but he was not so sure about fighting the greatest living swordsman. Carly turned and looked at him with an expression of consternation and Aaron could not tell if she as angry or not.

“What do we do now?” Carly asked.

“We don't have much of a choice,” Aaron said. “I'll try my best.”

“I'm going for a walk,” Carly told him. “I need to think. You figure out how to get your name on that list and then rest or stretch or do whatever you need to do to be ready to fight.”

“Are you sure you'll be all right?” Aaron asked, looking around at the motley looking people making their way about the town.

“I'll be fine,” Carly said, patting her legs where her weapons were hidden under her skirts. "I have my daggers." She smiled at him then, with a pensive furrow to her brow, she turned and walked across the dusty street.

Carly wandered through the dusty streets of the town, stopping at a few taverns and food stalls to talk with some of the proprietors and local vendors about the fights and how things worked. She learned that there were several different kinds of bets one could make on the fights. The most straightforward, was to bet on a fighter to win a single match, but the possible prize money was relatively small, especially in the earlier fights of the day. The least straightforward was to bet on predictions of how a fighter would fare and at what point would be defeated, which was the most popular form of betting among the traders at Forsina, who kept informed about the various fighters, many of whom had fought in the circles before.

Carly flirted with one of the vendors, coaxing him to sell her a spiced meat pie, a wedge of cheese and some bread, all for a few copper coins. He was an older man, thin and tall, with the tanned skin of the Ansari desert people and he had worked his food stall at Forsina for many years and regularly placed bets on the fighters. With a little flattery about how knowledgeable he appeared to be about the fights, Carly learned about the way the betting odds worked and who were some of the regulars and favorites to win in different matches. The vendor had already heard that Kasha would be fighting in the circles and he confirmed what Malek had said about the legendary swordfighter.

With her bundle of food in hand, Carly made her way toward the docks where Malek's small ship was moored along with various other boats and barges. She stared at the vessel, frustrated about the position they were in. Even if they managed to pay the dock fees, if they could not resupply, there would be very little chance of making the journey to the coast and beyond, and Carly did not want to go back to doing the sorts of things she had once done when she needed money. She hoped Aaron would be able to win enough matches to at least take some prize money and that between the few coins she had left and whatever Malek was willing to bet, that they might win enough on the odds to get back underway.

The sun was already high in the sky and the matches would begin at midday, so Carly decided to find somewhere to eat the food she had bought. She wandered upriver from the docks, following a path that ran along the edge of the water and over some rocky bluffs that dropped back down into a clearing with a few scraggly trees near a pool that had been formed by the erosion of the riverbank. She noticed a neatly folded bundle of fabric and a leather sack sitting at the foot of one of the trees, along with two swords in their scabbards leaning against its trunk. By the time she noticed the ripple in the water near the edge of the pool, there was already a knife at her throat. Carly cursed herself for having been taken by surprise. She would have pulled her daggers but she was surprised when her attacker had leapt from the water almost silently with barely a splash, naked and bearing a long, curved knife. Carly turned and smiled, still holding her bundle of food, and she looked into the green eyes of the woman who now had her at knife point, perfectly still but for the rivulets of water running down the curves of her dark tanned skin. The woman said something in a language Carly recognized as that of the Ansari people, but she only knew a few words and did not understand what she had said.

“I'm sorry if I intruded,” Carly told her. “I meant no offense.”

“What are you doing here,” the woman asked, switching to the common Maramyrian that Carly spoke.

“I was looking for a quiet place to eat,” Carly said. “I would be willing to share if you decided not to kill me.”

The woman glanced at the bundle in Carly's hand, then she stepped back, removing the knife from her throat.

“You are not of Ansara,” the woman said.

“No,” Carly replied. “Just stopped in Forsina for a day or two.”

“You carry weapons." It was more of a statement than a question. Carly figured it was probably best not to lie.

“I am sure you would agree, a girl has to protect herself.” The woman laughed. “I thought Farsina was a pretty safe place, what with all the fighters around,” Carly said.

“Farsina is safe,” She told them. “But the desert is not. You are not in Farsina now.

“I should ask Malek more specifically where we should and should not go,” Carly said, thinking aloud.

“I know of him,” the woman said.  “He is a trader and a pirate. You are his woman, then?”

“Malek’s women?” Carly scoffed. “In his wildest dreams, Malek would not even dare. My friend and I are travelling with him, that is all.”

“Good. Malek is a pig. He even looks like a pig,” the woman said as she stepped over to the tree and crouched down next to her clothes. She placed her knife on the ground next to her and began to put on her undergarments. Carly laughed and took a few steps away then sat down on a rocky outcropping and began unfolding the cloth bundle in which she had wrapped her food.

“Now that you mention it, he does sort of look like a pig, doesn’t he?” Carly pulled out a piece of cheese and some bread, breaking them both in half. “Would you care for some food?”

“I would be very pleased. Thank you.” Still only wearing her underclothes, the woman slipped her knife into a leather sheath and strapped it to her leg then she walked over and sat down on the rock next to Carly and took the bread and cheese she offered.

*****

Aaron had asked around with a few of the local shops and discovered that all he had to do to enter the fights was to put his name and where he was from on the stone at the center of the fighting circles. They also told him that once he put his name on the stone, the only way he could exit the fights was to lose a match or to win, which at first seemed simple. Aaron figured he could fight in a few matches and, assuming he won the fights, hopefully Carly and Malek could win enough coin that they could be on their way. However, he discovered that the only way to lose a match was to be beaten to the point of unconsciousness or death, which made the idea of losing a whole lot less appealing.

Aaron asked what would happen to a fighter who simply decided not to fight and he was told half the city would make sure he never fought again. Because of the money surrounding the fights, if a fighter were to lose on purpose or quit fighting, it would make it impossible to run all the bets, so the rule was; once a person entered the circles, the only way out was by legitimately winning or losing. Aaron scratched 'Antal' the name Carly had given him onto the stone with a piece of coal that lay on the ground, and he also wrote 'Ashford' as the place where he was from. Immediately, a young Ansari boy appeared from one of the nearby buildings, ran over to the stone, looked at what Aaron had written, then ran off again. Aaron watched as the boy entered the various taverns one by one then made his way through the nearby vendors, letting them all know about the latest entrant.

Around midday, a few people began to mill around the area surrounding the circles. Carly and Malek reappeared and the old trader brought two large flagons with him, handing one to Aaron.

“Water for you,” Malek said, “and ale for me! You win enough fights to get us out of here then you can have all the ale you want.”

“How many fights do I have to win?” Aaron asked.

“Best not to think about it,” Malek told him.

“Just do your best,” Carly said.

“Thanks,” Aaron said, then he drank some of he water.

A heavyset man with tattoos on his face and arms appeared from one of the taverns, carrying a piece of parchment. He walked over to the stone at the center of the circles, compared the names with the ones written on the sheet in his hand, then he picked up a handful of sand and scrubbed the names off the stone.

“Welcome to the Circles of Forsina!” the man called out, his deep voice booming across the open area. “The lists have been set and the rules are simple. Fight until you win or fall and anyone leaving the circle without losing or winning is fair game!”

“Fair game? What does that mean?” Aaron asked Malek.

“It means you fight until the end,” Malek told him, glancing at the gathering crowd, who all had their hands resting on daggers, swords and other weapons.

Aaron decided it was probably best not to think about it and he focused on what the officator was saying.

“The first match will be between Antal of Ashford and Warg of Forsina!” yelled the officiator.

A short, stocky man carrying two curved daggers walked into main circle at the center of the fighting area and he grinned brown teeth at the crowd of people, who cheered him on. Warg was obviously known in Forsina as a local and had his supporters. Aaron was about to enter the circle when he felt a twinge at the back of his neck and he saw a man wrapped in a black desert clothes approach walk over to stand with the officiator and a few other people who had gathered around him.