The Last Warrior

“Don’t be so sure. Retirement requires a wife. If that’s not life-ending, I don’t know what is.”

Just like that, they fell back into their usual banter in the way of men who’d been friends since practically infancy, as if four years hadn’t passed since they’d last spoken.

As if he didn’t just offer me the throne on a platter, Tao thought, squinting in the glare of the suns. “Life-ending? Only if one doesn’t go about the process of selection properly. I simply won’t settle for a female incompatible with my desires.”

“The process of selection?” Markam lifted a skeptical brow. “Courtship you mean.”

“That is how some describe it, yes.”

Markam’s teeth shone in the sun. “Since when did you become an expert on the subject, General?”

“Courtship requires a sensible plan and the discipline to stick to it. I’ll acquire a wife the same way I’ve conducted my military campaigns—with logic, careful consideration and without emotion getting in the way.”

Markam laughed. “Good luck.”

A flash of long, bright coppery hair caught Tao’s eye. A pretty young woman navigated her way through the crowds, a blue skirt flapping around her ankle boots, a bag slung over one shoulder. Kurel, he thought in the next instant, watching her devote more attention, and certainly no less distaste, to the steaming mounds of horse manure in her path than she did to him and his army.

Well, that’s one female I can comfortably remove from any list of potential mates, he thought with an inner laugh.

As he rode past the simple Kurel gates, more of her kind emerged from the ghetto, their faces just as cold, wary, even downright hostile. K-Town was a city within a city, stretching out to the distant southern wall, a teeming warren of people and buildings that had for generations served as a haven for immigrants from the Barrier Peaks.

A people as frosty as their cuisine was hot, it was said. The biting spice of their cooking hovered in the air, a tantalizing whiff of foods he’d never tasted and likely never would, just as he and that woman would never speak. He’d visited nearly every corner of the known world, but he’d never once set foot inside K-Town. No Tassagon in his right mind would, lest they fall under a spell.

Shouts dragged his attention back to the streets. A pair of home guards on patrol blocked the redheaded woman’s path. One was swaggering a bit as if to flirt with her while the other guard pulled open her bag for inspection, spilling a book as he rifled through the contents. She crouched to retrieve it, brushing off the cover as if the thing were more precious than gold.

More Kurel formed a bottleneck behind her. Their agitation made the air crackle with sudden tension, a needless escalation of the situation. Tao put his fingers to his mouth and blew out a quick, sharp whistle. The home guards jerked their focus to him, and he shook his head, motioning at them to move on. They had better things to do than pick on Kurel women, especially today, his homecoming.

The redhead’s slender arms hugged the bag closely and protectively. Her cheekbones turned pink enough to cover freckles that were a scant shade darker than her skin. Tao gave her a jaunty wave in advance of her gratitude at his aid. But the look she gave him contradicted all delicacy in her appearance. Those contemptuous blue eyes could have ignited stone.

“Are you all right?” he called.

She blanched at his attention and wheeled away without a word. Chiron clip-clopped along the same path, but the redhead kept walking, her attention fixed straight ahead as if he were a stray, possibly vicious dog she mustn’t provoke.

He pulled Chiron back, setting the horse to prancing on the cobblestones, their enormous shadow looming over the other ghetto dwellers who had gathered around. As soon as they saw him looking their way, they, too, averted their eyes—as if afraid he’d single out one of them next. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to hurt them. Nor would his men. The idea of their thinking so annoyed him even more.

“The Gorr are the monsters, but in Kurel eyes I’m a monster,” he snarled at Markam. “Distaste, I’d expect, but fear? Guards stopping innocents in the streets? That’s not the way it was when I left.”

Markam’s gloves tightened around the reins. “Xim initiated a crackdown on K-Town as soon as King Orion was buried and you were back to the front.”

“Your messengers mentioned nothing of the sort. Why?”

“Distract you when you held the fate of all humanity in your hands? I refused.”

“Do you think I would have gotten this far if I didn’t know how to prioritize?”

They glared at one another. Markam broke ranks first. “Xim fell ill, a fever. He refused treatment by a Kurel physician, fearing sorcery, and relied on a Tassagon healer. In his delirium, he fretted that the Kurel thought him weak, that they liked his father more and had therefore created a spell to make him sicken and die like so many did in the epidemic.”

Tao clamped his jaw against an image of his parents’ fevered suffering. “Go on.”

“When Xim recovered, he said the current laws against sorcery were too vague and too lenient. He had the Forbiddance redone to his liking.”

“The entire oral code?”

“Yes, all of it. He had everything transcribed into writing by Kurel and for them. Orders were given to shoot on sight any Kurel practicing the dark arts. Uhr-Beck’s regiment was given the job of enforcement.”

Old one-eyed Beck. Tao had sent him home five years ago, gravely wounded, never expecting he’d walk out of the Barracks for Maimed Veterans. But Beck had regained sight in one eye. Sidelined ever since, the old warrior chafed at having to serve inside Tassagonia’s walls, training recruits instead of fighting at the front. It was a valuable contribution to the war effort in Tao’s view, but not Beck’s apparently. He acted as if Tao had sentenced him to the worst kind of hell. The Uhr’s resentment had turned into an obsession to prove he was still a potent warrior. Xim’s handing Beck an order to quell Kurel would have been like pouring fuel on a long-smoldering torch.

“A few violent incidents occurred inside the ghetto gates,” Markam continued.

“He sent his men inside?” Aghast, Tao wondered how Beck had convinced his green recruits to dare it. Even experienced soldiers were leery of risking a sorcerer’s curse.

“Not very far inside, I assure you. A few Kurel came forth to reason with them. Stories vary. We’ll never be sure what happened, but at the end of it, there were casualties. I did what I could to restore calm. There hasn’t been a repeat, but the Kurel haven’t forgotten.”

The redhead’s reaction to his homecoming confirmed it. Xim wasn’t the man his sire was, anyone would agree, but it seemed the kingdom had fallen into the hands of a boy who didn’t ponder the consequences of his deeds. Tao was only a few years older, but he’d acquired a lifetime of experience compared with the king. It was clear Xim needed support and guidance in a more sensible direction, but it would have to be done tactfully. Markam’s insinuation that Xim had lost the respect of the public was a warning that others might see Tao as a candidate to usurp the king.

Politics. Was there no escaping it here in the kingdom?

“Ah, no frowning, my friend,” Markam cried. “Not today. Look at the people. Feel the love. This is your day!”

Tao couldn’t fault Markam for changing the subject. This moment of triumph had been many hundreds of years in the making. He was once again aware of the crowd crying out for him, but his thoughts inevitably returned to the angry Kurel woman and Markam’s words. Had he returned from battle only to find war brewing in his own backyard?

CHAPTER TWO

“UHR-TAO, UHR-TAO…”

Chanting for the general chased Elsabeth all the way across the moat bridge and into the coolness of the palace, where servants hurried this way and that, carrying enormous trays of breads and fruits to tables already groaning under the weight of food set out for the banquet.

Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed since the home guards had harassed her. She hadn’t been afraid for herself. She’d been too worried that the books in her bag would be traced to Queen Aza. The Home Guard reported to Colonel Uhr-Beck, who reported to King Xim.

She worked to calm herself, lest she encounter anyone who’d notice her agitation. Her role in the palace was safe only because of her ability to keep from being noticed. Any nervousness on her part could very well be translated as guilt, and then it would be over for her.

“What’s your hurry, Kurel?” the guards had demanded, wanting to search her bag—and more, had she not given them the reasonable expectation of a good fight if they dared try—all because she’d drawn attention to herself by failing to fawn over Uhr-Tao.

“Show the general some respect!”

Respect, when soldiers like Uhr-Tao won acclaim for wielding swords but wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with a book or a pen, let alone proper eating utensils, or anything else associated with civilized human behavior. Respect, when every time she looked at a Tassagon Army uniform, she relived her horrifying race through the ghetto, only to discover she was too late, because her parents had already been shot like animals for no more crime than standing in the street. Respect, when the soldiers responsible for killing them walked free, rewarded for their actions.

Even now, three years later, her heart clutched with the memory of her parents’ murders, and her vow to oust Xim for the crime was no less determined. She wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she’d have gotten this far, spending her days within an arm’s reach of the man, if not for discovering friends amongst her enemies. Some Tassagons were just as disillusioned as she was with King Xim, including the mutineer chief of his palace guards.

“There you are, Elsabeth.” As if bursting from her very thoughts, Field-Colonel Markam stood in the entrance to the nursery, wearing dress blue-and-whites and gleaming boots. His features were too strong for him to be considered handsome, his nose too long and his chin too sharp, but with his sheer intensity and unfailing self-confidence, he attracted willing women by the droves. He gave them little notice, so devoted was he to his career.

Elsabeth planted two fists on her hips. “You couldn’t have called off those battle-ax-wielding thugs yourself? General Tao had to do it?”

“It was the perfect way to introduce you as someone I wouldn’t go out of my way to help. Just another Kurel.”

Not one shred of apology accompanied his simple explanation, nor was the reasoning behind it something she could argue. No one must guess they were working together, or for what purpose.

Like a hawk folding its wings, he placed his hands behind his back and strolled the nursery, perusing toys and the other evidence of children with the same neutral observation she’d seen him use when inspecting troops passing in review. But it wasn’t reflective of his true feelings. Whenever she saw his eyes light up at the sight of Aza, she knew that he cared for the queen and the children as much as she did.

He turned to her, grim. “He’s afraid. Xim is. Thousands of soldiers have entered the city, loyal to their general, and none familiar with their king. I’m going to try my damnedest to reassure him, but this kingdom won’t be big enough for the two of them.”

“Would it be too optimistic to hope King Xim is the one who moves out?”

“If only it could be that simple.” The tendons in his lean jaw worked. She searched his face, looking for clues. Any unrest would surely translate to action against her people. “Beck wants to take over as general of the army.”

She swung to him. “You can’t let him—”

Markam cracked a smile. “Oh, ye of little faith. Tao has confided his interest in retiring. I’ll leave that to him to tell the king, but I’ve already suggested to Xim that the soldiers not be garrisoned in the capital proper. There’s a region outside the western wall where they can settle, take on wives and farm. Xim likes the idea, but Beck, well, he won’t want anything to do with that sort of life.”

“His ambition would rust from disuse,” she muttered. Markam seemed to have stabilized matters. Still, Uhr-Beck wanting to jump into Tao’s place was worrisome.

“Until all this is settled, Tao must tread carefully. I need you to keep your ears and eyes open for any hints his safety is in jeopardy.”

“Helping the man who never helped us.” She found it hard to show sympathy for the general who ran the army that had murdered her parents. “He was off doing the king’s bidding like a favored hunting dog. You’re the hero, Markam. You stopped the violence in Kurel Town, not General Tao.”

Markam spread his hands. “Tassagons see Tao differently than you do, Elsabeth. I see him differently.”

A legend. A hero. Had he not proved it by shooing away her tormentors, a couple of thick-skulled bullies, in the midst of his homecoming parade, and doing it with a single flick of his hand? It had been a generous, unexpected deed.

You should have thanked him. The acknowledgment of her rudeness to the general came with a pang of guilt. Her parents wouldn’t have approved of her behavior. They’d raised her to be tolerant, their silly liberal views preaching unity and acceptance, but every time she glimpsed a Tassagon Army uniform, she remembered her parents’ brutalized bodies. If she scratched the surface, would Tao be any different from the rest of the thickheaded ax-throwers who populated the Tassagon Army?

Markam ignored her stubborn expression, his voice firm but patient. “We can use Tao. Turn him to our side.”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“Perhaps not. But without Tao alive as a counterbalance, Xim will gain even more power. His ambition will know no bounds. He’ll find excuses to send the army to destroy the Riders and Kurel. With Tao dead, the Gorr will no longer be afraid to regroup and attack. We’ll be too weak to defend ourselves because we’ll be warring human against human, blind to the coming danger, as is warned in the Log of Uhrth.”

“I know what the prophecy says.” She shuddered every time an elder read that passage from the precious volume. “If humans turn on each other, darkness will consume us and we will be lost to Uhrth forever,” she whispered and narrowed her eyes at the spectacle outside.

Markam wanted her to help keep General Tao safe. Of all the Tassagons, he understood most what this promise would cost her. Inside these walls, the chief of the Palace Guard knew everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. He had to. His life depended on it.

As now did so many others in the palace.

A glove belonging to Aza lay on a table. Elsabeth picked it up, savoring its softness between her thumb and index finger. Thick, sumptuous satin, such luxurious fabric was never seen in the ghetto. It held the woman’s perfume, a whiff of fresh flowers. In the palace, the queen’s presence was colorful and unexpected, like a beautiful, fragile flower poking up between the cold, hard slabs of a fortress.

Elsabeth turned Aza’s glove over and over in her hands, then crushed it to her chest. “Damn it, Markam, if I’m caught doing anything that appears to protect Uhr-Tao, if he suspects anything, Xim will blame Aza. He’ll say she put me up to it, and he’ll—”

“I know,” Markam cut in bleakly, and with real pain. If he thought his unrequited love for Aza was a secret, he was a fool. He ran a finger along the inside of his collar. Beads of perspiration glittered on his furrowed brow as he regarded her. It was warm in the palace, but not that warm. He was nervous, a condition unprecedented for him that she could recall. “Can I count on you, Elsabeth? Will you put aside personal feelings about the general and stand ready to help if necessary, for all the reasons we’ve pledged ourselves to?”

To keep the darkness at bay…

She wiped suddenly cold hands on her skirt. “Yes. You can count on me.”

A quick nod, a squeeze of her arm, and Markam strode away to complete more secret meetings with other collaborators, all of them treasonous by definition, and all of them at risk of discovery and capture with General Uhr-Tao’s unexpected, utterly complicating return.

CHAPTER THREE

“UHR-TAO, UHR-TAO…”

The cheering was thunderous as the army entered Palace Square. Tao looked up in reverence. He could see this sight every day and never tire of it. The palace was a visual masterpiece, a fantastical creation built in much darker times, perhaps as a testament to the power of hope, or a way to show the Gorr that it wasn’t as easy as they might think to kill the human spirit. Balconies festooned in carved stone ringed the lowest floors, the entire building narrowing to four towers where blue-and-white flags of the kingdom fluttered. Underneath, invisible to all, was an elaborate system of drainage pipes, many wider than a man was tall, to divert the deluge from the yearly monsoon. They emptied into the vast expanse of the moat, home to a pod of voracious, deadly tassagators, reptilian water creatures native to this world. The moat was the palace’s best defense against Furs and humans alike. If a human were to actually survive a tassagator attack, the venom would kill, slowly and excruciatingly. There was no known antidote. No need for one, really. Anyone who fell in the moat was presumed eaten for dinner.

Before he’d been taken to train as an Uhr-warrior at age twelve, he, Markam and even Aza would explore the pipes on dares as children. They’d toss stones and the occasional dead rodent into the moat to attract the terrifying interest of the gators, then run, shrieking, into the deeper safety of the pipes. The humid and slightly sour air arising from the waters sparked memories of those carefree days.

My past, my present and my future, all meeting here and now.

He raised his hand to halt the army. As the men spent long moments soaking in their deserved acclaim, the royal family and various dignitaries awaited him across the drawbridge spanning the moat.

He let out a soft laugh of joy when he recognized his sister, her slender frame swollen with child, her bright gaze longing and urgent. Aza. A dazzling smile lit up her face when their eyes met, hers the vivid pure green of their mother’s in contrast to his, the more hazel green of their father’s.

Tao’s combat-hardened heart softened at the sight of her. Too few moments in recent years had been spent together. That was about to change.

He dismounted and stroked a hand down Chiron’s muscular neck. The great horse dipped his head, blowing softly. “Being put out to pasture won’t be so bad, Chi,” he told the beast. “You’ll see.”

He handed the reins to an aide. His armor was removed by his master-at-arms, Pirelli, his helmet given to yet another officer, his second-in-command, Mandalay.

“Sir, it’s been an honor,” Mandalay said, emotion in his eyes.

Tao glanced from Mandalay to a clearly moved Pirelli. “The honor’s mine, gentlemen.”

With emotion of his own swelling in his chest, he squared his shoulders. Standing tall, he strode across the drawbridge to the palace steps where the blessing ceremony would take place.

Although Aza smiled with love and pride and was as lovely as ever, up close he saw details he hadn’t expected. Too-pale skin, lines where there hadn’t been any before, tired shadows under her eyes. Where was the carefree girl he remembered? Palace life seemed to have sucked the spirit out of her as thoroughly as a Gorrish bloodsucker emptied a corpse. Two small children and another on the way—clearly his sister was exhausted. He imagined Xim was not an easy man to live with.

But it was Aza’s duty to do so. Their family had always served the royals, from supplying commanders to lead their armies to providing beautiful wives for their princes.

Tao sought his brother-in-law’s eyes and nodded. Pouting, as Markam had predicted, the man looked as though he’d swallowed a melon before finally acknowledging Tao with a reluctant lift of his brows.

Look within my soul, Xim, and you will see I have no interest in your throne.

As Tao approached the waiting priests, he tried to clear his mind of doubts, of hostile Kurel, weary sisters and impetuous kings, for he wanted to remember this moment for what it was. With all resentment purged from his heart and only the humility of a servant of the realm, he plunged to one knee.

The crowds grew hushed in anticipation. The hot breeze felt cool as it ruffled his hair. The picture of deference, he lowered his head in anticipation of Uhrth’s blessing.

A priest sang as he dribbled holy water over Tao’s head and neck. Liquid spattered and pooled like gemstones on the marble, a fitting nod to Uhrth’s angels.

Born on their watery world beyond the sky, they journeyed across the mystical ocean of stars in great arks to the chosen lands of Tassagonia, thriving until the arrival of Gorr invaders. The two sides fought to near-extinction, until all the arks were destroyed on both sides, stranding the two enemies on Tassagonia forevermore.

They’d been fighting ever since.

Each shivering droplet reflected the sky. The holy water used in the ceremony came from the only artifact to survive from the days of the Old Colony: the Seeing Bowl. It was said that within its waters the rightful ruler of Tassagonia could be viewed and the future revealed. Tao couldn’t help but wonder what Xim saw when he stared into its depths.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT to do, Elsabeth.” The queen was pacing nervously after returning to her private apartments to change clothing for the banquet. Several handmaidens waited in her chambers next door for her to return, but she’d sought out Elsabeth in the adjacent nursery classroom as soon as the blessing was over.

The room was darkened with thick curtains, the children playing with their toys as naptime approached. “Xim is so jealous of Tao,” Aza said. “He’s always been. Since they were boys. Tao was always stronger, better at everything, but my brother is Uhr-born and bred, you see. Born to do battle.” She swallowed hard, whispering, “Born to die for us, Elsabeth. But Xim, he was born for another path. Only, he’s never been able to value what qualities are his alone.”

“Hush, now. Sit.” Elsabeth helped Aza onto a chair as a maid bustled around the room, pretending not to eavesdrop. The servant was Tassagon and not to be trusted.

“There.” Elsabeth moved the queen’s hand to her rounded belly. “Reach deep for calm. Being upset isn’t good for the baby.”

Aza nodded, trying to slow her gulps of air. She took Elsabeth’s hand and briefly squeezed it in hers. Once, years ago, it would have been an overly familiar, inappropriate gesture. By now it was automatic. They were friends across classes, across cultures, Kurel and Tassagon. But would Aza feel the same if she learned her children’s tutor was a Kurel rebel with the goal of seeing her husband deposed?

“Miss Elsabeth. Pick me up!” Prince Maxim held out his chubby hands, and Elsabeth pulled him up to her hip. Drowsily, Max snuggled close, smelling of powder and milk. Little Princess Sofia climbed onto the queen’s lap, to play with a strand of enormous pearls the color of her skin. Oblivious to the danger swirling around them all, Elsabeth thought, envying the babe’s utter innocence. The maid left, but Elsabeth still could not relax.

“I didn’t know the depth of my husband’s jealousy at first,” Aza said, absently stroking Sofia’s golden hair. “One day, not long before King Orion died, Xim was in an awful rage. He told me that the king, his own father, loved Tao more. He recited a dozen incidents he thought proved it. At the funeral, he showed no grief, none at all. He seemed…” Aza’s gaze drifted away, darkening. “Victorious. It was so odd, even horrifying, as if by dying, his father had lost and Xim had won. I wept that day for Orion, and I wept for my husband. I weep every day for him, Elsabeth. Hate is rotting his soul, Uhrth help me. It’s putrefying his humanity like a dead body left out in the sun. I fear he’ll do harm to my brother, and he’ll do it without a care.”