Exatai of the North Part 8
In The Shadow of Bone Part 4
“The Slave takes your Rider,” she boasted. Her small hands roamed the Kalis board, taking her turn from the Sea onward to Heaven. They played late into the night in the great hall, betwixt the flames of the great hearth and a dozen candles about the table. The long shutters stayed open, letting the storm on the Yadyevu roll into the hall, filling their lungs with salty coolness. They were alone, save for the occasional servant passing through. Kalis is not a game for the impatient.
“You have too much free time, niece,” Glynt said. She still moved her hands greedily about the circular board, moving iron against marble with clank after clank. Her golden hair lay untied, falling past her shoulders in the back and onto the table in a mess caused by her intense concentration in the front. The board itself was less extravagant than those in the south, carved out of a wooden stump. The paint that adorned it had faded and chipped in part by the sea and the rest by the constant play by Aelona and her guards.
“As do you, uncle,” she commented as she played. Her hand then reached the quadrant of Heaven, where she made her final moves. “Rider takes Captain,” she murmured. “But, I have an excuse you see. I am only seven.”
“And a girl,” he added. Her hand grabbed her God piece, a tarnished iron piece in the shape of a powerful warlord. She moved it to the Sea. “You sacrifice Heaven for the Sea? The Sea is worthless.”
“Perhaps we are both girls, eh? Sitting in this hall, playing Kalis into the darkest hours, while my father and your father ride the waves to glory and back,” she said, grinning. “The son of the Prince of Bone should know that the Sea is everything. Mother has dresses in your size, uncle.”
“Don’t be smart,” he said. He prepared to take his turn as she raised her hands from the board.
“Someone has to be.” She giggled.
“My God will remain in Heaven where he belongs.” Glynt started his moves in the Sea, as was the rule, but he was in a fairly unfortunate situation. He grumbled while looking over the pieces.
“Or she,” she said.
“He,” he mumbled. “My God is a He, not a she.”
“We’ll see shortly how much of a man he is, then,” she said.
He made his moves.
* * *
Unger leapt from the small boat onto the sharp rocks that jutted from the shallows below a cliff. He thought of the Palace on the Rock when he saw them. Ancient stone carved by an endless barrage from the frigid sea behind him. A dozen other boats followed his to the shore; a skeleton crew manned the five ships his father gave him. Bastard, he thought, what does this prove?
Climbers had come ashore earlier in the morning, before the dawn, to scale the forty foot cliffs and secured ropes to the top. A half dozen such ropes now dangled in the wind, soaked by the spray of sea smashing stone.
“It isn’t too bad, my prince,” said Hygral, the bearded beast that his father sent with him. Hygral had served alongside Artaxeras in the Prince of Bone’s personal guard for the Evyni campaign. He stood a head over Unger and wielded an axe the size of a lesser man.
“We have to hurry, else the sun betray us to their garrison.”
And they climbed, Unger first along the other men on the other ropes, one at a time for an hour. The rope did not break beneath his weight, or any man for that matter, and Unger thanked whatever gods were watching over him. They reached the top where thick grasses shielded them. The stench of a nearby marsh reminded him of why his father had never wanted the island – useless land.
They snuck through the tall grasses all the way to the marsh. From the marsh they found the steep decline of a valley below the island’s mountains. It descended to the waters of a rocky stream, around which sat the palisade walls that contained the most major settlement on Gilot.
Unger had raided their fishing fleet for weeks, the Aithahist garrison inside would know a landing was eminent. The cliffs only bought him time, not strength, and the task at hand remained great.
* * *
“My Goddess takes your last Oracle from the Sea,” she said. She smacked the iron god piece into the marble oracle hard enough that it seemed the stone would break. “One point for Aelona,” she cheered.
He picked at his ear, “Congratulations, you’ve successfully taken the least possible points.” The sun peeked over the horizon and shone through the shutters of the great hall. “It’s morning?” he asked. “We’ve played through the night, and only a quadrant is taken.”
“I blame your slowness, but if you wish to concede to your princess you may.”
“I do not.”
Servants busied themselves with morning duties. The heat and smoke from the kitchens below the hall came up the stairway, a hint of baking bread followed. The Palace on the Rock was best scene in the dawning hours of the day when the liveliest servants, slaves, guards and nobles roamed the halls. It wouldn’t be long before hungry cousins piled into the hall to dine.
“Make your moves, the Sea is lost, uncle.”
“Do you ever tire?” he groaned. He made his frivolous moves in Earth, Air and finally Heaven. “God takes your Rider. One to go, Aelona, and Heaven will be mine.”
She shrugged, “Hide in Heaven all you like.” Aelona moved pieces from Sea to Earth, taking two slaves in the process. Each kill clanked louder in the halls as iron tapped marble. “The Sea invades the Earth. My Goddess comes,” she said. She took a moment to comb her hair with her hands.
“You’re impudent, you know that?”
“It is a game; do not get upset with me over pieces on a board.”
“I’m not above being upset over your attitude. It will make the victory sweeter.”
Slow steps on the stairs from the high tower alerted Aelona that her mother had woke. She turned to see Tisza standing, belly round with child, in a thin gown of fine silks – a gift from the Prince of Bone for her pregnancy. She stood to greet her mother, but Glynt did not.
“You’re still playing this Satar game?” Tisza asked, taking a seat on the wooden bench adjacent to Aelona’s seat.
“The game must be won,” said Glynt before Aelona could say the same.
“You should have ended it hours ago, a child needs rest.”
“And face her wrath all day? I’d rather see it out,” Glynt replied. “Besides, my victory is certain.”
“She always beats the guards.”
“And I will beat a prince,” Aelona added.
The blast of a horn interrupted their banter. Three men in boiled leather and sea water soaked clothing entered the great hall a few minutes later. War axes and steel swords hung on their backs and belts and dirt clung to their unwashed faces. They were startled by the suddenness of their entrance. The three men bowed deeply to the family as Glynt rose to meet them. He walked to them; they did not rise, but spoke in whispers.
The prince returned a moment later. Aelona waited with her mother next to the Kalis board for him to speak. He sat down, hung his head in his hands and growled.
“Which one,” Aelona asked. She ran her fingers over the bare carvings on the board before her. She gulped.
Glynt took his turn without saying a word, when he finished he looked up at them both. Aelona understood the cue to stay calm; hysteria was not the way of her house. Life and death on the seas were not uncommon. “My brother,” he finally replied. “I have taken Heaven.” He pointed to the board. She had not noticed. “Five to one.”
“What?” Tisza said. Her eyes were watery, hoping she had misheard.
“Father lost,” Aelona explained, her heart sinking.
Glynt watched Tisza as she moved from her seat in a flurry and wobbled to speak to the soldiers herself. Aelona stayed in place behind the board, her uncle across from her. Tisza’s words were blurry as she cursed the men.
“Father took the Sea,” she began while moving her final pieces to the Earth, “but he failed to take the land. You cannot win without the land, he told me so. The Sea holds the Earth together so one must go with the other. I am sad,” she said, “and don’t pretend to be. I know you, Glynt son of Fulwarc. You’ve waited for this. I have taken the Earth. Five to three.”
Her mother screamed in agony like a dying pig. Servants and guards rushed to her side. They yelled for the mid-wives, they yelled for her aunt. Her mother was in labor, the shock of it all too much for her fragile heart to bear.
“If it is not a prince,” he started, but then hushed when Aelona beckoned him to play. He moved his Redeemer against hers in the Air. Hers fell to him, but she did not pout.
“The Goddess takes your Redeemer,” she said, moving from Earth to Air.
He scanned the board, “I cannot win.”
“You never could. The God that hides in Heaven can never win. She who burns the seas and walks with mortals is the truest warrior. Did they say how?”
“An arrow maimed him, but the rope finished it.”
“The Redeemer commanded the Prince of Bone, the Prince of Bone commanded my father,” she said in Satar, “who commanded the Redeemer?”
“No one commands the Redeemer.”
“He is only a piece on the board. He has been misused.”
“Don’t say that, Aelona.”