Honor, p.19
Honor, page 19
part #2 of The Avant Champion Series
At some point during the festivities, I lost my ring. It proved impossible to find in a sea of guests. I had been distraught. Joshua had assured me he would buy another, but the ring was more than a symbol of our unity. He had given it to me before the battle with Malos. It had marked the hope of a future together at the darkest hour of the evil we faced. I had worn the ring into battle. Though it possessed no power like the star tattoo or the Warrior Stone, it had given me strength. It represented a symbol of everything we had survived thus far and the hope of many more years together.
After the party, Leonard, the manager to the servants, found the ring during cleanup and returned it to me. I let him know I was in his debt.
At some point in my reminiscing, I finally slipped into slumber.
I paced along the beach anxiously. The sky seemed to change rapidly between blue, red, pink, and purple as though matching my angst. I wanted to talk to Mal, but I worried about how much I interacted with him. Talking with him every night in my dreams had become too comfortable.
I sighed. This was ongoing consultation in the setting of a crisis. I was not getting accustomed to our conversations. I promised myself I wouldn’t make a habit of seeing him or seeking his expertise.
I willed Mal to appear.
He obliged, appearing lean, casual, and without fanfare. He looked at his surroundings, seemingly pleased we had returned to the beach. His eyes roamed back and forth between my pacing and the flickering sky.
“Abigail,” he said delicately, evidently perceiving my distress.
“I think our plan is good.” I clasped my hands together. “I would like you to peer into the future. If we succeed, will there be lasting peace?”
He stiffened and looked uncomfortable. “Abigail,” he cautioned, “I see hazy, incomplete pieces of many different future possibilities.”
“Are there possibilities that include peace?”
“If you succeed, peace is secured.” His voice held a strange reluctance.
So, I might fail.
“If I don’t succeed?”
“Many scenarios.”
I had the sense he didn’t want me to probe the possibilities further, which only piqued my interest more.
“Sounds dismal. What happened to decade upon decade together?”
He looked down into my eyes, his own dark eyes filled with what I perceived to be genuine concern.
“When danger is approaching, the number of futures increases. Like the flickering sky, the future is vacillating rapidly between possibilities.” He turned away from me, looking dolefully into the vast ocean.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He didn’t look at me.
“Hey!” I snapped with mock anger.
He looked over and straightened.
“I am the Avant Champion. I sent you and your evil army back to oblivion. I can conquer a few sweaty Hunju warriors.”
My sassy tone earned me a lopsided grin. Good. I preferred Mal light and feisty over sullen and brooding, especially so near a daunting battle.
And since when do I take responsibility for cheering up the prince of darkness?
“That’s better. I deserve the same confidence you had for yourself on the battlefield.”
He bowed ceremoniously. “Hail to the Champion, Abigail the Bold,” he said in jest.
I smiled. “That’s more like it.”
“Abigail the Horse Lover,” he added with a flourish.
“Yes, I have many titles.”
“Assistant Professor Cross.”
“That will suffice.”
“Red Goddess of the Muglik and the Black Stag Forest brownies.”
The sky flickered to pristine azure where it remained.
“I’m never accepting that title.”
He crossed his arms and trickled his eyes from my head to my toes. “Well, they have good taste.”
I glared at him.
He shrugged. “Joshua thinks so, too,” he added.
“Joshua’s opinion is the only one I care about it.”
“Yet, you’re here with me...goddess.” He gave a subservient bow.
I did not like the unnerving way his pronunciation of “goddess” climbed along my skin like a purring feline.
“I am here for your expertise, not your opinion.”
He straightened gracefully. The corners of his lips curled as his eyes sparkled, entirely too pleased with my reaction to his purring. “Yes, an important differentiation,” he granted.
I nodded curtly and turned to leave.
“Abigail,” he said, his voice suddenly coarse, sincere, and devoid of smugness.
I turned back to him.
“When you win this battle, my expertise may be in less demand. Should you wish, you can still visit me for my opinion or my companionship.”
“I will,” I blurted out without thinking, which meant I spoke the truth. I feared I would visit despite a growing unease that a friendship with Mal was not something I should allow myself to nurture.
I grudgingly admitted I liked the friendship. I had no concerns about it expanding to anything more, despite Mal’s flirtatious behavior. Joshua was undeniably the love of my life. My concern dwelled in feeding a friendship on which I would become reliant. Would our friendship blind me to the day Mal’s accumulation of evil turned him irrevocably sinister?
I looked at his long, lean figure—so human, an alpha male, but not a threat to me. The caged tiger. I was overthinking the situation. The day Mal gained the black keys to secure his escape lay so far in the future, I wouldn’t possibly still be alive.
23
The next morning Arturo and I traveled to the mixer camp nestled between Dantaju to the south and Optato to the north. He led me past clay huts and brick buildings. We entered an empty meeting hall and wound our way to a small room with table and chairs. The furniture dwarfed me. If we sat at the table, I would have to climb up into one of the chairs. I felt like a toddler in an adult world.
“Wait here, Ab’ay. I’ll get Portia.”
When Arturo left, I walked circles in the room, admiring the copper artwork decorating the walls. The metal had been molded into different overlapping geometric shapes.
I waited in anticipation. Would I be met with wrath or welcome? A few scattered books rested on a table. I climbed into one of the chairs and stood to flip through one of the books on the table. I stopped as the title of one caught my eye.
Procurement of Black Marsh Adder Venom
Collection of death adder venom requires a minimum of three Hunju. It is recommended not to attempt collection in the wild, but rather transport the snake to the pits where the serpent can be contained.
Beware that a contained wild reptile will panic, and crush injuries have occurred during the procurement process. The snakes’ bodies are large, and thrashing poses a risk to those in proximity of the snake.
The following items will be needed: a bronze collecting pot, a length of clay pipe two meters in diameter and ten meters long, and herding poles for two of the three participants. Note gloves are recommended though may reduce dexterity.
Ideally, experienced members should be within the team. Despite historical manhood rites of one or two Hunju attempting venom extraction in an uncontrolled setting, unsafe practices are outdated in favor of controlled collection strategies.
The arena of extraction should be devoid of any distraction. The snake is herded through the clay piping by one Hunju while the other two await at the opposite end. When the snake’s head emerges, the two Hunju seize the serpent. The mouth of the snake is placed over the bronze pot and worked open. To maximize extraction, the snake should bite the pot multiple times.
When the snake is spent, be aware that although there may be minimal venom remaining, a bite from the sizable fangs have debilitated males in the past. Care should be taken to keep the snake restrained until all procurement members exit the arena.
JC Ball, herpetologist
Year 6532
I shuddered and closed the book. A nonexistent wound on my thigh ached. I had conquered my fear of Mulan and fear of the ocean only to have new fodder for nightmares—paralytic venom.
I slid the book aside and opened another.
Poetry.
Jump down in the river
Plunge to let yourself free
Your soul to deliver
And carried out to sea.
If you’re hurt and dirty
Shackled down
Bring all your worries
And let them drown.
All you mixers
And the weary hearts
If you seek a fixer
And need a new start
If you’re suffering and hurried
Shackled down
Bring all your worries
And let them drown.
Hunju Mixer Slave Song
Circa 2600
Barbaric slavery. Hunju had lived so destitutely that drowning in the river was a reprieve. I sat down in the chair in disgust. I remembered Windish telling me slavery was abolished, replaced by indentured servitude. Was that much different?
“Greetings.”
I turned to see Portia, a large Hunju with braided brown hair and an oval face wearing the same brooding scowl I was accustomed to seeing on Hunju faces.
“Ab’ay, pleased to meet Portia, leader of the defectors,” Arturo introduced her.
I hopped out of the chair and stood to greet her. None of my customary handshakes or embraces were even possible given her size, so I gave her a respectful bow.
She looked at me with surprise. “You are the first human to grant me a courteous greeting.”
I frowned. “Then I apologize on behalf of my race. I also apologize for interfering with your war.”
One corner of her mouth curled. Another mixer entered the room. He carried a beverage tray with a pot and cups on it. I smelled the scent of the dark burnt drink they enjoyed—coffee. They brought two large cups and one human-sized.
Portia began to pour the drinks. “You see your role as interference, but I follow the Universal Religion. Your role is divine. Now you have an invested reason to help us. Only the Unideit could have orchestrated such a turn of events.”
“That’s a relief. I would much prefer my actions to be interpreted as divine than those of a blundering idiot.”
Arturo shot me a look of surprised horror.
Too blunt?
The room grew thick with tension.
Portia laughed. “Perhaps that’s an advantage to the religion—even errors have purpose.”
Arturo closed his gaping mouth, took my coffee cup, and added cream and a sugar stick. He had apparently remembered from our sailing trip I could only stomach the drink with such additives.
Portia said, “It’s a blessing to have the gifts of the Unideit on our side.”
I swallowed. Is that what they were? The stone and the star—divine gifts? Perhaps. Baird would agree with that assessment. I didn’t know the Hunju followed the Universal Religion. Furthermore, it hadn’t occurred to me that if my gifts were perceived as from the Unideit, my actions could be construed as divine intervention.
Red Goddess. Yikes.
Arturo handed me my cup of sweetened coffee.
I had only been considering how my actions reflected on Queen Rebekah and the monarchy. Working for the Unideit was an entirely different level of responsibility of which I wanted no part.
I knew what Baird’s response to my concern would be. The monks believed the Unideit was not a singular entity, but a religion linking all of us in harmony. With that line of reasoning, everyone’s actions reflected on the Unideit—with or without magical stones and transportation abilities. This was of little consolation since my actions were on an accentuated scale owing to my publicity.
I shook the thought. I couldn’t worry about religious ramifications. My objective was first to rescue Coco and Joshua, and second to help the coup with as little violence as possible.
Portia drank her black coffee. “Arturo suggests we attack tomorrow.”
Images of a river running red with blood flashed through my mind. I thought of what Portia had looked like in the flashback Mal had shown me. Her face set in a fierce glare as she clenched her sword, red blood congealed on the edge.
I nodded, drinking my coffee and trying not to make a face that betrayed my opinion of the drink. “Morning, if you can be ready by then. My friend and I can transport your army into town so you will have the element of surprise. When we’ve rescued our friends, we will bring Eustace to you.”
“At present, he is at the Gunthi monk sanctuary?”
“Yes. With better food and accommodations than he deserves, but he is still caged.”
“He deserves death,” she said bitterly.
I remained silent. Since Joshua’s abduction, I shared her sentiment, and it frightened me.
She sighed. “But I am willing to settle for his resignation and exile so we can show the Hunju and the continent we are better than the Dantajists.”
After my meeting with Portia, I found Baird in the Gunthi library. I watched him standing over a book, writing, every part of him focused. I did not venture into the library often, though it was impressive with its high walls of scrolls and books. The sandstone walls helped absorb moisture and preserve the delicate paper. The monks spent hours of pastime chronicling historical events both fantastic and mundane.
I felt a cathartic ease seep into my bones watching my friend work peacefully by candlelight in the large stone-walled room. His calm behavior made me think of the universal power in which Gunthi monks believed—a power threaded through the entire world. The connection was unseen unless one chose to see it—in the way a raindrop caresses a fanning green leaf, in the way a bird perches over her eggs, in the way the wind sweeps past the faces of a horse and rider, and in the way my dearest friend stands by candlelight in a magnificent library and writes the history of the seventh Avant Champion.
“Did you come with questions or to meditate?” His deep voice resonated through the library.
“I like watching you work.”
He didn’t look up at me, but his lips turned up in a pleased grin.
I walked over to a table of books and casually sifted through one. In blue ink, he had precisely copied a picture of the Traveler’s Star. He had also written in the meaning of the seven points—wisdom, compassion, strength, truth, love, peace, and courage. The fortuneteller, Blue, had explained the meaning of the star, and I had told Baird. It appeared he took care in documenting it.
I wasn’t sure I possessed all of those things. Perhaps a learning curve existed, and I had a passing grade in the same way my students didn’t have to know the entirety of the course material to succeed in my chemistry classes. Baird seemed to have all of the characteristics. Joshua as well.
“We will get him back safely,” he assured me, looking up from his book.
“It’s my fault. I begged him to go with me, knowing it was more for his company and not because the success of the mission depended on it.”
“Regardless of your initial intentions, it seems the success of the mission did depend on him going.”
He was right. If Joshua and Coco hadn’t been there, Windish would have been able to take full advantage of my paralyzed state. Killing the Champion may have given him the clout to crush the defectors forever.
“There is much in my life I never would have achieved without you, Baird.”
He looked back down, dipping his quill in his reservoir of ink and writing again. “That is the nature of a friendship. Friends synergistically make us capable of more achievement than would be possible without them.”
He added, “I regret not having been able to accompany you due to my obligations here. I underestimated the danger, or I may have temporarily suspended my vow.”
“Me on a quest. That inherently means it’s going to be longer, more dangerous, and higher stakes than anyone initially assumes.” I tried to sound light about it, but no humor materialized in his eyes, only a well of bottomless compassion. I cleared my throat. “Besides, Aman said four—two opposing moons and two neutral stars between. You couldn’t have come anyway. You would have disrupted the balance,” I said with mock superiority as I flicked a strand of long, dark hair off my shoulder.
His eyes beamed with humor. “Since when do you worry about prophecies and balance, Little Moon?”
I sat in a nearby chair and leaned back casually. “What makes you think I’m the little moon?”
I sought out the leader of the Gunthi monks. I wound my way through wisteria trees and rich green grass to the Aqua Santos. The sacred water glistened and rippled.
Zack appeared to be meditating as he sat with a rigid spine surrounded in his blue cloak. His closed eyes and lips gave his face a look of peace. Hair as white as the snowy peaks of Karnelik touched his shoulders and danced lightly in the breeze.
How could one achieve such a state of blissful peace?
“Something you wish to discuss, Champion?” He didn’t open his eyes.
I flopped down in the grass beside him, shifting my eyes back to the serene water. “I brought a violent beast to your home, across your threshold. I transported danger here without considering the consequences to the monks. I sought to save my own hide.”
He opened his eyes and regarded me carefully. “When one is in mortal danger, one flees to friends. We don’t consider your arrival anything but confirmation of our friendship.”
“And I’m indebted to you. But I still worry about the ramifications of ensnaring you in the Hunju conflict.” What if the Hunju retaliated because I involved the monks? What if a hundred Hunju stormed and ravaged this sanctuary?
