38. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Caelan
“ Y our bird is in the air first, I see,” a buttery voice called to me. It was deep but feminine, reminding me almost of Eave until I remembered she was back at my tent today.
I nodded at Lady Kassimi and she offered me a graceful bow before tilting her head to watch Arbaaz wheeling in the sky.
“I admit I’m eager to begin,” I said.
“As am I. I love a good sport.” Behind her, a manservant held her kestrel on his arm. The small bird was masked and leashed, ready to be launched into flight.
“You don’t keep your bird with a falconer,” I noted.
“I am of the blood of the Bird Lords, as you are. It is not in our nature to hand our power over to other men. Of course, the Havards hardly remember now that their power once came from their birds.”
“I do,” I said quietly.
“Of course, my prince," Lusa said smoothly. I had the discomforting thought that this whole conversation felt choreographed, her words chosen carefully. "Perhaps it’s easier to remember when your bloodline has produced so many altayrs. Mine has never produced a single one.”
Her eyes drifted to Amon, who stood near my father with a cloud of his Widowmakers around him. His falcon was with Selim.
“But times have changed now, haven’t they? Your family no longer produces altayrs, and your brother does not even fly his own bird in the hunt.”
I raised my chin, obliged to defend Amon. “The power of the Havards no longer relies on our wings.”
“Of course. The crown has won your family power of a different kind.” Lady Kassimi leaned in as if she told a secret. “But oh, what power altaya once was, Prince Caelan. Raw power. It didn’t matter to Calathan the Conqueror what other men thought of him or if they paid their taxes. He didn’t worry that they would rise up against him, for he knew that he would crush them if they did. A man such as that…” Her ink black eyes settled on mine. There was nothing flirtatious in them; they were hard as flint. She gave a little shrug, letting her sentence trail off. With a small bow, she left me.
A man such as that would never be thought weak. He would never be bullied into the temple. He would never be afraid of his older brother. He would take all the things he wanted.
I wasn’t a man such as that. But I could be. I held the very power she discussed inside me, caged.
On another day, I might have wondered if Lady Kassimi somehow knew of my bird magic. I couldn’t think how she would. The only people in the world who knew were Selim and Eave. I trusted Selim with my life and Eave was constantly guarded. No, Kassimi’s words must have been a metaphor for a discussion of power in general. She probably had some subtle point that had gone over my head.
I blinked into Arbaaz’ mind and circled over the prairie as I strode towards my father to pay my respects. He sat with my uncle Devan, Amon, Massriel, and Selim, with half the court ranged around them. That priest from Archeon, Farad, was in the crowd. My uncle, First Priest Devan, eyed the social climber warily.
In the prairie, little dogs poked their heads up from their burrows and cocked them at the sky before retreating with panic back into their underground homes. A fox’s tail swished in tall grasses while a tracker walked back towards camp. It was his job to make sure we didn’t encounter any lions today. The days were long gone when altayr-emperors and their Imperial eagles hunted the kings of the prairie.
I followed the tracker's footsteps backwards and found a small pride slumbering. Twenty of them, including two kings and a number of cubs. One of the kings glanced up and saw me, and then yawned and lay his head back down.
I left Arbaaz' mind as I arrived at my father's side. “Emperor,” I bowed my head in obeisance. “Brother.”
“Where’s your beast?” Amon asked. “You’re usually sucking each other’s cocks by now.”
“He’s in the air.”
“You have an unnatural love of these animals,” Amon said.
“To fly a bird of prey is a tradition of our line,” I said tonelessly.
“Yes, but you enjoy it.” He said this with down-turned lips if it were some kind of mark on my character. Did I imagine the way my father stiffened, his gaze scanning my face to see if it was true?
I shrugged. "More than you. You have a tedious day ahead, I'm afraid."
Amon smiled like he had a secret. “Perhaps not so tedious.”
A familiar prickling crawled along my neck. I’d long ago learned such a feeling was my body warning me to watch out for one of Amon’s tricks. “Planning something special?” I tried to sound merely curious, rather than wary.
Amon reached for a spear that lay against a post nearby, and hefted it. Beside it were several others—the same as the number of Widowmakers who ranged around him, I noted. “I'm hunting lion.”
I tried not to raise my eyebrows. Spear-hunting lion was dangerous and Amon had no experience with it.
“You are brave, my brother,” I said, keeping my tone measured. My eyes slid to my father, half-expecting him to forbid such reckless sport. But he said nothing.
Amon shrugged, but my words pleased him. “I’d invite you to join us, but someone has to come in second.” He grinned. “Lucky you never get tired of it.”
I tried to smile.
“Come here, honored prince,” Father Devan loudly directed Amon. Devan's face was already reddened by too much wine. “Hold out your spear.”
Amon settled the point of the spear just below Father Devan's throat and Devan laid his meaty hand on the shaft. “May the Father guide your hand, as he has guided the hands of all with the divine right to rule since the death of the gods.”
Amon pulled his spear back.
“You’ll catch plenty of lions now,” Devan chuckled. Sometimes I wondered if he really believed in his own religious nonsense. “And you, my boy. Where’s your priestess this morning?” He looked behind me as if perhaps he’d only missed noticing her.
“I’ve no need of her until the hunt is through. I’ll be focused elsewhere.”
Father Devan pouted. “She could’ve kept me company.”
Yes, exactly why I left her behind. It was a decision that was rightfully mine to make, but my uncle looked at me as if I’d disappointed the Father himself.
“I don’t share, uncle,” I said sharply.
My father’s eyebrows rose. I’d never spoken to any member of my family that way in his hearing.
“Of course not,” Devan mumbled. “That’s not what I meant. But we’ll surely get to know each other quite well, once you become an acolyte. A priestess may offer me many interesting…thoughts. On her experience of the gods.”
I took a deep breath and released it. “Of course. Another time.”
The tracker I’d seen through Arbaaz’ eyes reached the tent and sought out Amon. “I have tracked a pride of lions, my prince.”
“Thank the Father,” Amon said. He hefted his spear, sounding relieved. It was blood he was after.
“Sound the horns,” the emperor commanded, sounding excited. He used his arms to push himself up from his chair. “The hunt will begin!” he called loudly.
Clapping rose from the crowd, who put down their goblets and strode out into the prairie.
Amon grinned and whooped. His Widowmakers echoed the sound. They slammed armored fists against chest plates. The hollow metal sound echoed in the open plains.
I felt Selim’s eyes on me as all the others turned away. Don’t do anything stupid, they warned, as they so often did. On his advice, I'd never allowed Arbaaz to bring down anything larger than a prairie dog. Though our recent argument still lingered in my mind, I was resolved to stop pretending incompetence.
Amon's party went out first, disappearing into the tall grasses as a menagerie of deadly power and soft wings ascended. Falconers flushed voles, prairie dogs, and rabbits from the brush. The air became a chaotic battlefield of wings as falcons and other small hunters competed with each other for the biggest prizes. The less brave of court shielded their eyes as the birds darted and dipped. The loss of Broker hit me, sudden and sharp, a mix of guilt and sorrow. He never missed a hunt. His jolly voice always urged on his falcon, its volume loud enough to be heard even over the squeals of prey and the rush of wings.
My father laughed delightedly. “Like being on the battlefield again, isn’t it, Lord Fakoury?”
Massriel smiled politely and agreed, though I couldn’t remember him ever joining a Borderlands raid.
A fox darted from a bush and my father whistled his bird’s special call. The Imperial eagle sighted the fox and dove, cutting through the air with greater power and velocity than all the smaller raptors. They careened out of his way. His golden feathers caught the suns’ light, glorious and shining. His claws were out and open, each sharpened by Selim in preparation for this day.
My father let out a cry of glory as his eagle’s claws slammed into the fox’s head. The small red hunter was quick, but the eagle had judged his path perfectly. His beak descended. It was over quickly.
“A perfect kill, Emperor,” Selim said.
My father beamed. “The first of many.”
Arbaaz screamed, as if to remind me that he was here, too. The sky was full of such screams, but I knew his voice like I knew my own.
I blinked into his mind and sighted the land below. He was deeper into the prairie than the smaller birds. I suggested his return, but he found the chaos of the sky above me distasteful.
You can’t hunt that far from me. It wouldn’t look right. Come back to me if you want to kill. Reluctantly, Arbaaz turned.
Below him, Amon’s group appeared on the far side of the tall grasses where the brush grew lower to the ground. This was where the pride rested, near a watering hole and a clump of short trees that offered shade. The Widowmakers crept forward, but Arbaaz easily heard them in their metal armor. The lions did, too.
I halted Arbaaz’ return to watch as the lions stood up and regrouped before Amon’s party even got close.
A foolish Widowmaker threw his spear and it whizzed past the largest male’s head and skidded into the dirt.
A lion growled.
An emotion I could not name flooded me as I realized how unprepared Amon was for this fight. He might die out there today. If he did, he could never hurt anyone again. And I would be emperor someday.
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't tempting to turn my back. Very tempting.
But I had vowed to protect his life with my own and I didn't make a vow I couldn't keep. Beyond that, he was my brother. Father damn it all, he was my brother. We were bound in blood.
I grimaced and broke into a jog as my brother’s party crept closer to the pride. Amon’s ten soldiers were too few to take them on. Though some of the beasts were cubs, encircled by protective mothers, two males and over a dozen fully-grown females had more than enough teeth between them.
My brother shouted commands and his men spread out. The lions saw the fight coming and made their own formation, a fan with the cubs behind them.
Amon had no instinct for such battle tactics—he always fought like an island.
His men threw their spears and mostly missed, though one spear lodged in the leg of the smaller male. With their spears gone, the Widowmakers had no choice but to draw their scimitars and engage. Swords flashed, but the beasts were fast and clever. They broke away and circled back, angrier than before.
A lion’s roar cut through the chaotic noise of the birds and I heard my father call, “Amon’s found something.”
I felt, rather than saw, the emperor and other nobles follow me into the tall grasses.
I shoved my way through, ignoring the sliver-cuts to my exposed skin. Unlike Amon, I’d not chosen heavy metal or dragonstone armor. I wore only a thin leather chest plate, and my arms were exposed.
The fight was well underway when I broke through the grasses. Seen with my own eyes, the size of the lions was shocking. Amon would’ve needed a brigade to take on a single one, and right now, he was surrounded by nearly a dozen.
One male was injured, but the larger thick-maned male circled Amon with a pride of females at his back. A lioness had been killed already, but four of Amon’s men were down, too. Those who were left had been split into two groups by the pride. Amon fought with his bodyguard and Aagha while his remaining men fought elsewhere.
But Amon seemed not to be worried about the odds.
“He’s mine!” he shouted. He still had his spear and he hefted it, ready to throw. He was close enough that the throw would probably find its target, but what of the lionesses ready to tear him apart afterward?
I took a step forward and then another, careful not to draw the lions’ attention. I was not as loud as Amon’s metal-clad soldiers. I drew my scimitar quietly.
But Amon saw me. “Stay back!” he commanded. I held my breath as his spear flew, but let it out when it whooshed through the lion’s thick mane and hit a lioness behind him instead.
Undeterred, Amon drew his scimitar. The lion pounced.
Amon whipped his scimitar with abandon, seeming to devote everything he had to each swing, as if there would never be another. To me, it looked chaotic and untrained, the way a child fights. He boasted that it unbalanced even the most experienced opponents, but I privately thought it might be his status that was doing that.
Amon turned at the last moment to avoid a charge. He whooped, enjoying himself. To watch him, you’d think all this was going according to plan. But the lionesses circled. They targeted his bodyguard. Jaws opened and then closed. The man could not stab them all. He fell as my father broke through the tall grasses behind me.
Aagha took the bodyguard's place at Amon's back. The lion pride spun and darted around them. Amon’s blade never stopped spinning. But he only had time to inflict shallow cuts before the next beast replaced the last.
A few well-placed swings got me through the circle of lions. I joined the two men and we made a small circle of our own. Amon glared at me before he slashed at the snout of his next attacker. “Fuck off. This kill is mine.”
“The only one getting killed today is you, and I swore not to let that happen.”
“You swore to obey me, too. Your life is mine. Now fuck off.”
But I had no intention of listening. Not with Amon’s life at stake and my father and all his court looking on. I’d be blamed for Amon’s death, and rightfully, if I backed off now.
“What was that? I can’t hear you, Brother.”
Amon no longer had breath to waste on threats and insults. The lions came faster and faster, jaws snapping, forcing us back towards a nearby cliff.
"Use it to corner them," I suggested. If we could stop them from surrounding us, we might have a chance.
The pride followed us to the edge.
“Now turn them. Get their backs to the cliff and don’t let them come around,” I shouted.
But Amon would take no orders from me. The large male came at him and Amon spun out of our circle to meet him.
“Amon, stay with us,” I cried, but it was too late. If I went after him, I’d leave Aagha’s back undefended and he’d die, too.
I had to end this quickly.
Movement to my right. Two lions, running at once. One for me—a large female. And one for Amon. The king launched off his back paws. Amon dodged but lost his scimitar. He drew a short dagger from his boot—it was all he had left.
I judged the lioness’ jump and thrust with my sword right as she was about to reach me. It sank deep into her belly. She collapsed around it, heavy and dead, ripping the hilt from my hands and burying it below her mass.
I shoved at the lioness’ body, trying to turn her so I could retrieve my blade. It was the only one I'd brought.
The lion prowled towards my brother. Amon’s back was to the cliff. His hand clenched and unclenched on his dagger, betraying his nerves. He was no great fighter; his skills lay with lies and whispers.
“Over here,” I called. I didn’t know what I’d do when the lion turned but at least Aagha still had his sword. Aagha took up my cry.
But the lion paid us no mind. He would not take his eyes off my brother.
He charged.
And Arbaaz dove.
I wasn’t conscious of giving the command. I was only conscious of being in the bird’s mind as he tucked his wings in and careened downward. In moments, he was moving faster than the lion. Faster than any other animal living could.
Air whizzed over my feathers as I hurtled towards the ground. My claws extended, sharp as knives. Amon raised his dagger but I could tell from the angle at which he held it that he would miss.
The lion was almost on him.
But I was faster.
I collided with the beast, knocking him to the ground. My claws sank into the pits of his eyes and squeezed. I let out a cry of triumph as his body gave way before my power. I extended my wings to their full width, balancing myself as my prey collapsed dead beneath me.
There was silence on the prairie as I left Arbaaz’ body and animated my own. My boot splashed in a pool of blood as I approached my brother and held out a hand to help him up. I couldn't help glancing at my father on my way. His mouth was open in shock, his expression set in what might have been horror. Was it lingering worry for the safety of his eldest son that made him look that way, or something else? No Imperial eagle had ever felled a lion without direction from an altayr. My secret was out.
Amon lay on his back, sprawled and fallen, humiliated and beaten.
All my life I’d imagined what it might feel like to reveal my altaya magic. I’d expected regret, nausea, fear, or perhaps some pride. I hadn’t expected the thrill. The heavy sensation of power that settled over my shoulders like a mantle.
The best part was the surprise in Amon’s eyes. They were wide and round, blinking too fast as his mind raced in an attempt to decipher what had happened.
You lost and I won, I wanted to say, but there was something else I needed to say instead.
Amon must have been out-of-sorts because he reached for my hand to accept my help in rising. I tugged my hand back before he could clasp it. Amon’s eyes flew to my face, narrowing. His cheeks grew red and his lip began to curl into a familiar expression of rage.
“I owed you a blood debt, Brother, for you saved a life that belonged to me. Now I have saved your life. I believe that sees us even, does it not?” I spoke loudly enough for the nobles clustered around my father to hear.
Amon’s face grew redder. He spat hatred from his eyes. But a crowd of nobles watched us. He must act the part of the honorable crown prince, even if it meant losing a weapon he must have very much enjoyed having in his arsenal.
“It does,” he growled.
I allowed myself to smile. Did it look as predatory as it felt?
“Excellent. The blood debt is resolved.” I put my hand back out, but Amon stood without reaching for it. He brushed himself off, his eyes glaring furtively at the crowd of nobles watching, my father among them. Politely, they began to clap.
I stepped away from my brother and held out my arm. Arbaaz had begun to feast on the brain matter of the fallen king, but I called him back. Reluctant but obedient, he rose into the air and settled back down on my forearm. I absorbed the weight of him and turned to my father, whose face had returned to its usual unreadable expression. My heart hammered as I knelt in a fluid motion. I bowed my head with Arbaaz still on my arm, a display of both power and humility. Nervousness roiled in my stomach, but the thrill of power and freedom countered it.
I spoke loudly and boldly, so they all would hear. “Emperor, the prize is yours. Felled in your name for the honor of your friend, the fallen High Commander Fakoury.” I kept my head down and waited to see what he’d say.
Every breath felt like it took cycles. The crowd was utterly silent.
“Son.” My father walked forward and his hand came to rest on my shoulder. “I have long waited for the day when I might say I’m proud of you. Today, that day has come. You have proved that the blood of the Slayers runs strong in you."
My throat clogged and I blinked back the wetness that came to my eyes. It would be shameful to cry like a child at his words.
“You do me honor today, in this Hunt, as you do honor to the memory of High Commander Fakoury. But this is only the beginning of the honor you will bring to our family.” He looked from me to the crowd, turning the moment to political advantage. “The Demonhunter flies an Imperial eagle. He will fell our enemies on the battlefield as he felled this lion. Take notice, all who would stand against us! The magic of the Havards has NOT weakened! We are as strong as ever!”
My father stood back and I rose, sending Arbaaz soaring into the sky.
“Let us return to camp and drink to my son! The Demonhunter, altayr, killer of lions and men!”
The court clapped more loudly, all those courtiers who had probably laughed behind my back a thousand times. All those who thought me weak and useless. They cried out praise as my father promised me a lifetime of doing battle in his name.
My heart soared higher than Arbaaz. Finally, I had done it. I had shown what I could do and been applauded for it.
My eyes sought Selim, hoping to see some small hint of the pride my father had just expressed. But he wasn’t even looking at me. He watched Amon with worried eyes.