Chapter 52 Jaya
JAYA
A fight is won not by the strongest fighter, but the cleverest one. Think like your enemy, and you will defeat him long before he tastes the sword.
—from The Gamemaster Manual
You asshole,” Jaya said, wincing against her bleeding tongue. It had swelled in minutes. Blood dripped down her chin, her hands bound behind her back.
Daz said nothing. But Rhumia smirked as she guided their ship forward, her hands floating above the panel, palms limned blue. Flecks of red still dotted her hair.
“Save your tongue, girl, and I might spare you once we reach Tsuana.”
Jaya began to speak again, but Samson nudged her with his knee. His hands were tied painfully tight, skin already turning blue. Afira kept watch, his urumi in her lap, and would not meet Jaya’s gaze.
Coward.
What Yumi ever ran from battle? Abandoned their friends? Proud warriors my ass. She had seen the ghostly glow of the fires on the Lord. She had studied Elena’s Agni well enough to know it was hers. The queen was alive. And that meant she hadn’t failed.
She could still measure their Agni. Div could still live.
Jaya studied the sensors. They only had the two, their comms dead.
She wished she could hail Akaros’s ship, let him know of the Yumi’s change in course.
She glanced at the locked door of the bridge.
Maybe she could call for Visha. Or—her eyes cut to Rhumia—anger the warrior into moving toward her, striking her.
Maybe then Samson could rush forward. Tackle Afira, grab his urumi, call his Agni, or—
Jaya stilled. Her gaze landed on Daz, who stood with his back to her.
“Are you king of the Yumi?”
Daz jerked back, as if slapped. Rhumia and Afira stiffened, eyes wide, incredulous.
“We do not speak such blasphemy,” Afira said.
“I’m going to cut off that tongue,” Rhumia snarled.
“But you are, aren’t you?” Jaya continued. “I mean, you killed your sister. Took her throne. You are king.”
Rhumia stepped toward her, voice dripping with derision. “Only a clipped foreigner would think the Yumi had kings. Your mother may have knelt to one, but we don’t. So shut up. Or I will cut out your tongue.”
Jaya glanced at Samson. He watched her intently, and her eyes darted to Afira. To his urumi.
“My mother said successions were always bloody,” she said to Daz. She eyed the sensors, saw the Relentless turning on the Lord. “Especially between Yamni and Yamsiya. But you were both Yamsiya. So, what did others think of you killing your own?”
Rhumia snarled, “Not another word.”
“She is goading us, Rhumia,” Daz said tiredly. “Let it go.”
“But, General—”
“Let. It. Go. That is an order.”
Jaya smiled with bloody teeth. “Did you clip her?”
Such a notion was not just offensive; it was forsaken. Foreigners may clip a Yumi, but for a Yumi to do it to one of their own… It was unthinkable. Punishable by death. But when Daz snapped, when anger sundered his face and split his self-control, Jaya knew she had hit her mark.
She smiled wider—then cried out. Rhumia had slammed into her. She felt ribs breaking, blood leaking from her mouth, as the Yumi hit her with her hair.
Daz shouted. Samson dashed forward—Afira lunged—but he swiped his urumi and, with a snarl, summoned his Agni. Flames burst down the blades, burned his bonds. Samson spun on the balls of his feet, all momentum, all fury, his sword and inferno ringing high, and slashed down.
The two tongues cut cleanly through Afira. She whimpered. Rhumia whirled, crying out for her sister, and Jaya used the opportunity to kick her in the stomach. It felt like kicking stone.
The Yumi flung her off like a flea.
Jaya crashed to the floor, gasping as agony exploded through her body.
She blacked out… and woke up to find Daz unconscious, Samson and Rhumia locked in battle, his flaming urumi trapped in her hair.
Jaya smelled it burning, but the Yumi did not yield.
With a roar, she yanked Samson up and clobbered him against the wall.
He howled. Rhumia jerked back, hair sharpening and shooting toward his chest, but then Jaya threw herself forward. She aimed low. Like Div had taught her, like Akaros had trained her. If you cannot be a fighter, then be cleverer, Akaros had said. Use their bodies against them.
She tackled Rhumia below the waist, pushing all her weight into it. The force of the impact rippled down her arms, her ribs, and Jaya muffled a scream even as Rhumia stumbled back. She did not fall.
But that was enough.
Samson whipped his urumi, flames zipping down the blade, down Rhumia’s hair, onto her head and neck.
She shrieked.
The doors slid open as Visha entered, asking, “What’s going on?” only to fling back as Rhumia barreled out, aflame. Jaya heard her screaming. She heard soldiers shouting, and then she heard a loud splash. Then silence.
Samson slid down the wall. Blood dripped down the side of his head, his shoulder. His flames flickered, slowed. Jaya slowly crawled up onto her hands and knees as he met her gaze.
They stayed like that for a moment, breathless. Exhausted. Finally, Samson held out a hand.
“I’m sorry for burning you earlier,” he said.
Jaya took his hand. “And I for not trusting you.”
He pulled her up, and Jaya staggered to the panel. Daz moaned softly, unconscious. As for Afira… Jaya avoided looking at that corner of the room, instead focusing on the holos as she sank into the captain’s chair.
“The Relentless is turning on the Lord,” she said.
“They know something’s gone wrong,” Samson said. He clutched his bloody urumi, flames reemerging from his wrists. “It’s her. I can feel her wielding.”
“Then let’s get you back to your queen.”
And with a flick of her stylus Jaya turned their ship back into battle.