81He dreamed of the white city, the city he'd heard of only in legends and stories of his boyhood. It had only been a dream. Until now. Soon, it would be his for the taking. The kings of Sirabia had always been powerful, wealthy and proud. They had, for centuries, regally sat on the throne behind their great white stone walls of Aldubar. It was built of strong white stone, polished and smoothed to perfection. Even the streets seemed to glitter. It was a white star in the midst of the desert. It represented all the wealth and power Sirabia had to offer.
And that was why he had to have it.
The city would be the biggest jewel in his crown if he could capture it. He would have no rivals. Every man would bow down to him. He would prove his worth, and no man would say he was unworthy of a crown. And then his elder brother would be dead.
Someday. One day very soon, his dream would be reality.
She was running through a dimly lit passage underground. Men were shouting, women were screaming, and children were crying. Blood was seeping through the cracks of the stone. The distinct sound of metal against metal echoed in the stony silence of the passageway. All of this was taken over by the sound of her own rapid heartbeat and harsh breathing, her frightened sobs. She was almost to the end, she was sure of it. She could see a door surrounded by complete darkness. Her muscles were screaming with weariness, but she could not stop.
And then she woke up. Cold sweat ran down her back and her face. Her hands were cold and trembling. She often had the dream, memories of her childhood. Thirteen years ago, there had been the uprising against her grandfather, lead by her own uncle, her father's older brother. It was the war that led to the beginning of her father's reign as king. He was crowned as the blood of his brother still stained his hands and soaked his robes and the old king gave his last breath.
Sirabia was a small country with a bloody history, as all countries did. But it was wealthy and powerful, the people loyal to the land and king. Much of the land was desert, but the small part that was able to be cultivated was rich and fruitful. Their mines in the deep of the desert were plentiful with iron, and mines in the south within the hot and humid jungles shined with diamonds. All this Aysa was heir to.
Aysa rose from her bed and splashed water on her face from the flowing fountain in her room. She took in a deep breath, her heart finally beginning to slow down. As a child, she'd had the dream often, and she'd cried for her mother to hold her. Sometimes, it would take hours for her to calm down and fall asleep once more. As Aysa had grown older, the dream had become less reoccurring, but still there, haunting her memory
Suddenly her doors were thrown open without ceremony, and her younger brother strode in arrogantly, a sneer on his face as he took in her appearance. Lumki was, as ever, elegantly and pompously dressed, his loose black pants settled comfortably around his hips, his tanned upper body bare, and his flowing royal blue robes about him impressively.
Aysa glared at him, trying to pass off as much arrogance as she could despite her night dress and robe. She knew his tactic, to catch her unprepared so he could be at his most superior. "What may I attribute to your unwelcome presence, dear brother?" she said coolly as she turned her back to him to draw back the gossamer curtains. They revealed a wide and spacious open balcony that overlooked her white city.
Lumki helped himself to the fresh fruit laid on her table without asking as he looked at her with open hatred. "One would expect you to be up with the dawn, to overlook the running of your country," he said. Then he took in her pale face, the water running down her neck. "But how can one expect that of an unstable woman as yourself?"
"Somehow I do not think you'd have made the effort of coming here just to insult me."
"I take my pleasure wherever I can."
Aysa strode forward and slapped him with all of her strength. She certainly knew about his pleasure-seeking activities, and she was sickened by them. He'd grown to be a cruel and lewd young man, not having inherited any of their father's morals or sense of honor. She did not understand how her mother and father had produced such a child. But then, he had been just a young child of seven when he'd been taken hostage by the rebels of her uncle and had not been treated kindly for the two years he'd been held. But that was still no excuse. Many children had suffered from the war. No, Lumki suffered from the choking jealousy of being placed second, of being overshadowed by a woman.
Lumki's head had snapped back, and he blotted the blood on his cut mouth from her ring. He glared at her with glittering eyes.
"My patience grows thin with you, little brother," she said airily, knowing how he hated to be belittled by her with only three years between them. "Either produce a useful reason for being here or remove yourself from my chambers."
His face contorted with rage and it took all of Aysa's will power to not take a step back as he advanced upon her. Whatever his other faults, he was not completely stupid and openly attack her, and she held her ground, forcing herself to not take a step back.
"I would not be so cocky, for your days under the sunlight will be limited, mark my words." Then he spun on his heel and walked out without bothering to close the doors.
Aysa turned to the water fountain and splashed more water onto her face. For the first time, she truly felt afraid of her younger brother, for she had not only seen hatred and loathing in his face. She'd seen a blazing madness and rage in him, one that she was not sure how long he would contain and suppress.
Aysa made an impressive and regal figure once properly dressed. Her long black hair was straight and shining, held back by gold pins. Her tall and lean figure was robed with a flowing white dress covered by an intricately embroidered gossamer scarlet robe. Makeup was used sparingly, black kohl emphasizing the largeness and blackness of her slanted eyes.
The council was sitting straight and tall in their chairs of the council room. A shallow pool of water sat in the middle of the room, chairs set up around it. In the center of the pool was a circular platform. Beyond the pool, the room was completely open, tall and impressive columns replacing walls. It allowed a beautiful view of the white city of Aldubar. But now, no one was drinking in the sight of the city.
The king stood at the center of the pool of water. The hems of his robes were soaked, as were his bare feet. Taimus was an especially tall man, well-muscled, his shoulders broad. His head was completely shaven, as was the tradition for kings. Beside him stood his tall and thin queen, Neya, her features sharp and beautiful. Her mass of dark hair was piled on top of her head, her body held tall and poised.
Aysa took a seat around the pool beside her uncle, Mathum, the commanding general and adviser to her father. To her other side was her cousin and son to Mathum, Aldorn. He was a year younger than she, and they resembled each other so that many though them twins. He had been more of a brother to her than Lumki ever had.
"And where is my beloved cousin, Lumki?" Aldorn asked cheerfully, though his eyes remained cold.
"Probably waiting to make an indignant and impressive entrance," Aysa said wryly, to which Aldorn chuckled. They both shared a dislike for the prince.
"He is probably tormenting some poor servant girl. You would think he'd direct his energies towards more important things such as affairs of state, or the fact that the north is threatening to move against us."
Suddenly Taimus raised his hands and clapped three times very slowly. The room became silent and all eyes focused on their king as he spoke.
"As you know, the Hilgoth army is preparing to make war against us," Taimus said. His voice was deep but surprisingly soft and mesmerizing. He was constantly moving on his platform, to look at every man and woman. "Our spies from the north have reported it, have seen the men, the ships, the supplies. I have been praying long and hard in the temples, praying for wisdom against our foes." He suddenly turned his attention to his wife and daughter. "My spies also report that this army is one of the best and most well-equipped. They have chosen to shed their heavy armor for loose and light garments such as our own. We know we are not invincible, though we choose to believe so at times. This enemy shall make it to our walls. Battle will rage. And if the city should fall, then I would ask my daughter and queen to go below the city to escape."
Neya said nothing, her dark eyes intent on her husband's face. But Aysa jumped to her feet. "Father, no! I will not run!"
Mathum stood up with deliberate slowness. "He is not denying you your right to fight," he said. His voice was as soft as his brother's, but there was an underlying snap to it that revealed his general command. "I have been to the north, have been welcomed at the Hilgoth court some years ago, and they are not to be underestimated." He exchanged glances with the king. "This young prince was not even born when I was in the north, but he has been surrounded by good men who have learned from their past mistakes."
"Surely you are not afraid of a mere boy!" Aysa demanded incredulously.
"Aysa," Taimus said sharply. "You will show your uncle respect as you would for me. That is the biggest mistake of a losing side, underestimation. He may be a mere boy, but he has years of knowledge and experience at his command."
Neya laid a hand on her husband's arm, then looked at her daughter. Her voice was musical and as smooth as silk gliding across one's fingertips. "We are not looking for defeat. But should it come upon us, we want you to escape and survive. You can fade into the hills and mountains, gather up our people, and have another chance to regain what is yours."
"All I ask is that you save our country's future." Taimus' gaze was steady and unblinking as he stared into his daughter's blazing eyes.
For the first time, Aysa felt a strike of fear. The king's soft voice sounded so eerily certain of defeat. Had the gods foretold him the outcome? But as she met his eyes and searched for some kind of futility or hopelessness, she found nothing.
At last, she nodded. "Yes, Father," she murmured as she sat back down.
The doors to the council room were flung open and Lumki strode in with arrogant nonchalance. "I do apologize, father," he said in a silky voice. "I was engaged in important matters and completely lost track of the time."
Taiumus' eyes narrowed. "And if you were twenty minutes late for battle, it would be over. You do yourself no honor to not take such things more seriously, as a future leader must. If you find it too difficult a task to remember when the council is meeting and to show up on time, then you have no business being here."
Not a sound was uttered, and it seemed that everyone was holding their breath. Lumki was speechless as the arrogant smirk was wiped off his face. From her seat, Aysa suppressed her delighted laughter. All the others were looking on the prince with dissatisfaction and coldness. Aware of all eyes staring at him, Lumki's mouth tightened as his eyes narrowed. Then he pivoted on his heel and stormed out.
The blood red sun began to sink into the horizon, it spread its red light across the city. Taimus eyes were calmly drinking in the sight as he continued his plans as if his son had not interrupted. "I want every man and woman on the walls of the palace, the walls of the city, prepared to fight. I want all of my ships on the rivers prepared. I want people in their homes ready." Taimus' soft voice had hardened and sharpened like a blade. "I do not want the Hilgoths to get beyond the Mikda Bridges. And if they do succeed in getting that far, I want the bridges to be burned, the stones catapulted."
Aldubar was a city surrounded by two deep and wide rivers, the Hima River on the east, and the Ojal River on the west. A third river cut exactly through the center of the city, the Mikda River, perpendicular to the Hima and Ojal. There were at least half a dozen bridges to connect the northern and southern part of Aldubar. Once the bridges were gone, there would be no way for anyone to cross except by boat, for the currents were strong and quick, able to drag even the strongest swimmer under.
There were murmurs of approval from the men and women of the council.
"No, Javius Imal will find no easy entry into our city," Taimus said, his voice dangerously soft.
At mention of the young Hilgoth prince, angry curses filled the air. Sirabian spies had been watching him for months as he made his plans to cross the deserts to the white city of Aldubar. For generations, foreign countries had attempted to conquer the exotic and rich country of Sirabia, for travelers had brought back wondrous tales of wealth and luxury to their homelands. These homeland rulers had seen the diamonds and rubies and gold in the eyes of the teller, and they would lust after it themselves. Countless armies and thousands of men were sent from up north to cross the sea to the wild southern desert to see adventure and riches.
If the sea did not kill the soldiers, then the extreme heat and dryness of the desert would. Or the tribes scattered about the country would. And if these foreign armies happened to make it across the desert to civilization, then they would be so weak and half-dead that they would be in no condition to fight against the highly-skilled Sirabian soldiers who were trained from a very young age. No one in the world could match the skills and discipline and loyalty than Sirabian soldiers.
Most of the foreign soldiers from the north would sicken and die. The stronger ones would be sold into slavery or servitude. But most if not all of them never saw the shores of their homelands again. And the Sirabian people would be praying that the gods would deliver safety once more.
Practice and exercise were an essential part of discipline, and discipline was necessary for practice and exercise. Aysa did not allow a day to pass without practicing with her weapons and remaining strong and flexible. She was standing before her private armory, which included a golden spear with sharp blades on either end; a sword forged to exactly fit her hand; a bow stronger than most men's; arrows made of the strongest wood and tipped with the best metal. Her collection of daggers sat in velvet boxes.
It was early evening when Aysa made her way to the sandy arena. It was an enclosed circle about one hundred yards in diameter and filled with sand. Torches blazed all around them on posts and on the walls. Several men and women were practicing, stretching, or fighting in mock duels. As usual, a small crowd of spectators sat and watched.
One young woman easily disarmed her female opponent and caught the sword deftly from the air. Aysa grinned as she made her way over to her friend, Galaisi. The other girl had sparkling green eyes and dark hair, a regal, if somewhat hooked nose, and was surprisingly tall for a woman. At the sight of Aysa, Galaisi grinned and tossed her the won sword.
"Care for a match?" Galaisi challenged.
Aysa grinned in return as she caught the sword. "But what is the point? You always win."
"It gives me a certain pride that I am better at you in something," Galaisa teased. "I seem to lack the gentler side of a woman."
"Oh, come now, I know you may dance as clumsily as a newborn learning to walk, but your curtsy is quite elegant. Now your table manners – "
Galaisa held up her hand, laughing unabashedly. "Enough! This is why I do enjoy a duel with you on occasion. It builds my self-esteem."
"Well, let me warm up and stretch, and then we shall see to your match."
One man, upon seeing Aysa came over to her and bowed. He was an older man in his thirties, quiet and sardonic. Herus was a nobleman and was a captain in the army. He himself had been her instructor in the arts of war.
"Will you need my expertise?" he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
"Not tonight, Herus. I am still perfecting my other moves you assigned me last time," she replied back in jest.
"Of course. But I shall be watching you and I expect perfection. You've had a week to work on them."
Left alone, Aysa surveyed the collection of wooden practice swords, and after a few moments, she found one the right weight for her to wield. The cool sand sifted through Aysa's toes as she swiftly moved about, swinging the sword in practiced moves. She was unaware of any other person, of the eyes on her, of the spectators watching and whispering. She went through a routine of twists, turns, kicks, punches. Her method was to do the move in exaggerated slow motion. And then she would repeat the same motion with lightning speed.
"It looks like your motions could use some work."
Aysa froze, then turned to face the door. Lumki stood half in the shadows of the torches, his face shadowed. He stepped into the light, his hands crossed in front of him, his eyes on her intently. His voice had been loud and carrying, and many paused in surprise as they tried to discreetly watch the prince and princess.
"It looks like your judgment could use some work," Aysa replied coolly as her grip on the wooden sword tightened.
Lumki's handsome face screwed up with open loathing and hatred. But surprisingly, his features settled back into an inscrutable and calm expression. "The king is erred in his own judgment. But time will soon enough reveal that."
"What do you mean by that?" Aysa demanded sharply, taking a step towards him.
"Are you going to run me through, dear sister? And with a wooden sword? Do I not even have the chance to defend myself?" Lumki then sauntered over to the stands holding the practice wooden swords. He stood for a moment, scrutinizing it, testing a few of them for weight and balance. Then he faced Aysa after finding one. "Will you do me the honor of a duel?" he asked as he mockingly bowed.
By now, everyone had begun to openly watch them in curiosity and interest.
Aysa she mentally sighed. Lumki never missed a chance for attention. "I believe you'll have to wait your turn. I already promised one to Galaisi."
A smirk rose on his face. "Are you afraid?"
"I never refuse a challenge," Aysa growled.
"I know," he whispered.
As they removed their outer robes and sandals, those who had been practicing deserted the sand and went to the side to watch. Aysa sized up her opponent. She had never fought Lumki, though she had watched him on many occasions. He was strong, light on his feet, and quick. She knew he liked to go on a strong offensive, as he did in most things in life.
Once they had completely prepared themselves, Lumki bowed and said, "Guard."
They both tensed and crouched in attack position. The watchers began to make wagers and to shout encouragements and cheers. Galaisa hovered on the sidelines, her face anxious, her mouth tight. Lumki lunged forward and tapped her sword, then withdrew, an ugly smile on his face. Aysa continued circling, keeping her eyes on his shoulder to follow his movements. Without warning, Lumki stepped forward and attacked. He continued to advance, forcing Aysa to retreat and defend herself. She allowed him to advance, to attack in hopes of tiring himself out. He was stronger than she had expected, though, and it took an extra effort to block his attacks.
Then their swords locked and Aysa cursed. She had no choice but to break away, spinning to avoid being hit with his blade. He brushed his hair out of his hazel eyes and then lunged forward. Almost immediately, he retreated. He tapped her blade again, as if daring her to attack him, his eyes mocking and challenging. She sat back and waited calmly, looking for an opening to finish him.
Lumki began to switch swords from hand to hand. And with that, Aysa saw her opening. She bolted forward and hooked her blade beneath his hilt and thrust upward. The blade went soaring out of his hand and into the air. Aysa easily caught it and a smile tugged at her lips. She crossed both swords across her chest and bowed.
"Well fought, my lord," she said gravely as she threw his sword into the sand. "But you should not make it a habit of playing with your sword. It could get you killed."
Lumki's chest was rising heavily from the exertion. He bent down to retrieve the sword, and without warning, he swung it. Gods bless Aysa had quick reflexes, for she blocked him at just the last minute. But the impact sent her sprawling into the sand. Lumki gave her no time to recover and his sword came bearing down on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and rolled away to avoid his blade again.
As their eyes meet, all Aysa could see was uncontrolled hatred. Lumki was now on top of her, pressing the sword down on her throat. She tried to scream out but all of the air was blocked. She grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his eyes and he fell back from her with a cry. She rolled onto her side, gasping for air and coughing, struggling to her feet even as Lumki raced blindly towards her.
"Halt!"
Aysa looked to where the voice had come from. She also noticed they had been surrounded by soldiers with arrows notched to their bows, aimed at Lumki.
Herus had returned with men after witnessing the wild attack on his princess. "Just say the word, my lady, and we will take him," Herus said smoothly.
Aysa was still struggling to regain her breath as she finally straightened out of her defensive stance. "Please escort him to his rooms and stand guard. Make sure he does not leave, he does not lay a finger on anyone," she commanded.
As she looked at the back of her brother's retreating figure, she looked at him with new eyes. He was not anymore the petty and jealous younger brother. He was a man of seventeen, a dangerous man with strength and cunning.
Herus had hastened to her side. "Are you alright, my lady? Do you need to see a healer?"
Aysa shook her head, her eyes never leaving her brother. "I think I shall retire now. I have had enough for one evening. Just keep an eye on him."
"Father, Lumki is dangerous. I would have men keep an eye on all of his activities."
Taimus' eyes strayed to the unsightly bruise on Aysa's throat. "He is always watched. But perhaps he should be watched more closely." His fingers reached out and gently brushed across the bruise. "He might have killed you."
Aysa shook her head in rueful dismay. "I had not realized how fully his hatred extended. I had never paid him much mind, had never viewed him as much if a threat."
"He was born unsatisfied, always wanting more," Taimus said softly. "He was born in the same time of the year as Prathim." As he spoke his older brother's name, his eyes took on a cold glint. "I was so sure that I could nurture my son away from evil, from hatred. But it grows daily within him."
"He will never acknowledge me as a queen, Father."
"I know."
"To protect myself, this country, I must do something about him."
Taimus' mouth curved downward sadly. "Yes. He has built up quite a crowd of supporters among the nobles. We have not had a ruling queen in over one hundred years, my great-grandmother."
"For whom you named me after," Aysa reminded him proudly.
"Yes. You will be great one day, just like her." Then he sighed, laying a hand over his heart. "But I do not know how I will be able to fight a war on two fronts, one from within my own walls, and one from without."
Aysa laid a hand on his arm. "I know you will prevail. We have had generations and generations of war, and we have always prevailed, we have always managed to come out standing tall and proud." She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, my daughter. Gods willing, we will be victorious. Until then," and he pulled a dagger free from his belt, "carry this with you at all times."
Aysa solemnly accepted it, her reflection clear on the blade. It was cold to her touch, and as she tucked it into her sash, the feeling of cold stayed with her.
After the mock duel, Aysa gave her brother a wide berth, and he her. She made sure she was never alone and never unarmed. She also had her own system of spying on him through her Galaisi. One of Galaisi's maidservants had caught the prince's eye and was a part of his rotational schedule and also reported back regularly to the princess. .
"Lumki is angry," Galaisi said as the two young women walked together in the palace gardens. "He is abusing his women more than usual. He beat his own poor servant boy. And when a servant entered his chambers the other day without knocking, he was so enraged that he threw the tray of goods at the poor young man and hit him. Everyone is afraid of him."
"There must be something more behind his anger besides his hatred for me," Aysa said, speaking more to herself. "He has always controlled his anger before. Now, though, it is completely wild. And with the looming threat of the Hilgoths coming, my father has no spare time to worry about Lumki."
"What do you think he will do?"
"He is rash enough to try anything desperate. He has always been out to prove himself a man, to prove he is superior. But by the gods, I do not know what to expect of him. He would never rebel against my father, for he does not have enough supporters. The general feeling towards him is loathing and disapproval."
Galaisi idly reached up and plucked a blossom from a tree. "I would not underestimate him so. My brother thinks he may have plenty of supporters, and not all of them nobles. He is not the kind to settle for nothing. Danses has seen him consorting with the lowest and most immoral and untrustworthy of men in the city."
"Where has Danses been lately?" Aysa asked casually, turning away to pick off dead petals of a flower.
Galaisi eyed her friend knowingly and chuckled. "He has been to the south to see to the training of his soldiers, as he does every year. He likes to know that everything is being properly drilled into them and that they do not think the life of a soldier is too easy."
"He should not be gone so long," Aysa said, frowning. Her hands ripped the dead petals apart. "What with my father preparing for war, he needs every man's intelligence and input. And he highly respects Danses' opinion."
Now Galaisi grinned openly. "I am sure you have a high respect for things other than Danses' opinion," she said shrewdly.
"Perhaps." Aysa tried not to smile.
"Oh come now, you have been sweet on him for years, and everyone knows it!" Galaisi playfully flicked some water at the princess from a spouting fountain. "And you two do make a handsome couple."
Still Aysa shrugged, her face inscrutable. "I have to be sensible about these things. I cannot let my heart rule my head. If I ever marry, it will be a marriage of state."
"Who's saying anything about the heart? I know as well as any woman the pleasure in fun!"
"Galaisi!" Aysa half gasped, half laughed. "I am sure I do not know what you're talking about."
"But I'm sure my brother does," the other girl teased.
At the mention of "brother" Aysa suddenly became solemn again. Her own brother took her thoughts away from pleasant things. He was a thorn in her side. And she knew, deep down in her heart, that one day, she would have to do something about him. One day she must kill him, or he will kill her first.