Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain

Ashok sliced the basin’s surface with the flat of his palm, sending water up in sheets. Squeals and shrieks sounded the dark ones’ retreat, but the shadow dodged to the side. Ashok spun and kicked, but the figure that had approached jumped out of the way, and there came movement to Ashok’s left.

With no other ready defense, Ashok vaulted the basin and stood to his thighs in the cold water, the stone lip a barrier between himself and two male shadar-kai warriors. The warrior on his left was armed with katars, while the one on the right held an elegant falchion. Hanging from his belt was Ashok’s chain and dagger.

“You’re a skittish one, aren’t you?” the man holding his weapons said, not waiting for an answer. “We’re not here to ambush you.”

“Just as well,” Ashok said. “I’d have killed you if you were.” Water flowed past his thighs, its chill biting into his legs and cooling his tensed muscles. “What do you want?”

Amusement played across the shadar-kai’s gray features. “We’ve come to show you the city,” said the one with his weapons. He took Ashok’s chain off his belt and tossed it at him. Ashok caught the hand guard at one end; the other hit the water, sending wet spikes into the air. His dagger was held out toward him by the curved blade.

Ashok stepped out of the basin, took the weapon by the hilt, and sheathed it. “Are you the leader here?” he said, his eyes taking in the belly of the canyon and the teeming city.

“Not by long ranks. I’m Skagi,” the man said. He nodded at his partner. “My brother, Cree.”

The other shadar-kai nodded at Ashok and grinned. He was smaller than his brother but quicker, Ashok thought, and silent in his black leather armor. It was Skagi’s shadow Ashok had seen first. By the time he’d detected Cree, the man might have had a katar blade in his throat.

Ashok cursed himself. Too slow, fool. Your soul is on the block for the taking. You’re letting the city impress you too much.

Ashok wound the chain and hooked it on his belt. “Why return these to me?” he asked.

“Orders,” Cree said. “We’re to escort you around the city. Anywhere you want to go.”

“Except the gate,” Ashok said.

“You don’t like our hospitality?” Skagi asked. “We saved your life. It was our patrol that found you on the plain.”

“I’ve never seen a lone warrior take on an entire pack of shadow hounds,” Cree spoke up. “How did you do it?”

“Cree,” Skagi said.

Cree laughed. “My brother wants to pretend he’s not curious, but he aches to know as much as I do,” he said. “How did you do it?”

“They were going to kill me,” Ashok said. “No matter what I did, no matter how I attacked. Once I’d swallowed that, everything after was just good sport.”

“For you or for the hounds?” Skagi asked.

Ashok shrugged. “Both,” he replied.

The brothers were silent. Skagi watched him appraisingly. Ashok saw he had dark green tattoos covering the left side of his body. The symbols looked like chains and spikes woven together in a complex pattern. Ashok couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken to complete the tattoo. In contrast, Cree had only two symbols that Ashok could see: curved blades above each of his temples.

Capable warriors, Ashok thought. More captors sent to watch over him. Maybe he could use them to his advantage.

Ashok turned and faced the guard wall. “Will you take me there?” he asked.

Skagi and Cree exchanged a glance. “You’re mad if you think you can escape,” Skagi said.

“Who says I’m not mad?” Ashok replied. He removed the chain from his belt and held it ready at his side.

“Go on, Skagi, he’s testing you,” Cree said. He slapped his brother on the shoulder, but Skagi wasn’t paying attention. He was still watching Ashok.

A breath passed, then another, and finally the tension broke. Whatever Skagi had been considering, he’d obviously made his decision, for he grinned and relaxed. “Fine then, if you want a look. Uwan said we were to take you anywhere in the city you wanted to go.”

“Uwan,” Ashok said, after they’d started off. “He’s your leader?”

“For almost as long as we’ve been alive,” Cree said. He pointed to the south, to the fourth tower rising against the canyon wall. Enclosed by an iron fence, the tower was carved up by doorways and guards, the same as the others, but in between them were carvings of Tempus’s sword. There were other pictures too: engravings of humanoid beings-not shadar-kai, Ashok thought, but maybe one of the other races he’d seen roaming the city. Vast wings sprouted from the backs of many of them. Even the ones that were barren suggested flight in some form or another, by the positioning of the carvings.

Ashok’s gaze drifted up to near the tower’s top. Here there was a carved image of a single eye. Outlined in white, it stared down at the fenced tower yard and out over the city.

It was not a large drawing, nor was it as absorbing as the sword carving he’d seen on the wall of the sickroom. Looking at it, Ashok thought it was out of place, hovering above the city, watching, waiting for something to happen.

“Is that where Uwan dwells?” Ashok asked, pointing to the tower and its unblinking eye.

“Most of the time he’s below in the training yard,” Skagi said. “That’s Tower Athanon,” he added, pointing to the fenced obsidian. He turned and looked to the tower where Ashok had awoken. “Tower Makthar, the temple home,” he continued. “And in the middle, Tower Pyton and Hevalor, the trade houses.”

Ashok repeated the names and functions of each tower in his head. The warriors were young, like him, but too eager, too trusting. In his own enclave, they would have been killed long before for these weaknesses.

They reached the outer wall. Guard posts had been set up at various points at the base of the wall and on it. Ashok counted slowly, keeping track of the shadar-kai moving along the wall.

“Convinced?” Cree asked, breaking Ashok’s concentration.

“Of the might of Ikemmu? Yes,” Ashok answered honestly.

“Caravan inbound!”

The shout came from the south. It was picked up by the other guards and carried the length of the wall.

Cree turned his attention from Ashok. “How far?” he called up to the nearest guard.

“Won’t be long,” came the reply. “They’re moving fast.”

“Ready the gate!” came a voice.

Ashok, Cree, and Skagi turned to see a woman standing at the center of the wall near the gate. Her head was shaved, and a tattoo like raking claws covered the back of her bare skull. She wore gray robes with black sleeves and gazed out over the wall, her black eyes unfocused.

“That’s the Sworn of the wall,” Cree said, pointing to the woman. “Neimal the witch. She holds the flame. No one enters the city without her leave.”

“Is she watching the caravan?” Ashok asked.

“It’s eating up the last dirt before the portal down to the city,” Skagi said. “We open it and the gate ahead of their coming, so the wagons won’t stall outside.”

“Makes the beasts anxious,” Cree said.

“Horses?” Ashok said with a snort. “They should be better trained.”

Skagi laughed. Cree shook his head. “You’ll see,” he said.

They waited at the base of the wall. Ashok looked up. The wall was thirty feet high, just as he’d judged. A pair of spike-studded wooden doors and an iron portcullis comprised the gate. Ten guards with longbows on the wall surrounded the entrance, and five more stood on the ground, directing foot traffic off the main path into the city. From their side of the city, Ashok could see how badly damaged most of the stone dwellings were.