The Final Strife

She walked into her office and took a seat at her desk, creating a ripple effect of the painting behind her. The two sets of disapproving eyes were enough to bring Anoor to her knees. But she didn’t fall, she stayed standing.

“I’m going to win today,” Anoor said.

“I heard…” The smirk was less painful than Anoor expected.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I could.” Uka opened her top drawer and pulled out her thin pipe, stuffing it with radish leaves. She only ever smoked when she was stressed. “I could kill you now.” She lit the match and inhaled. “I face that decision every day I wake up.”

Anoor had heard this threat before. She didn’t blink at it.

“You were everything I didn’t want you to be. Slow, short, lazy. You never took strength from my teachings, my discipline. They were my gifts. I wanted to strengthen you, but no, you refused to harden. Instead, you softened, turned to stories and make-believe. My mother thinks you might be worthy, somehow. She has seen something I haven’t. But I suppose she doesn’t feel the shame I see every time I look at you. The ravenous guilt that eats at me for letting them take my child.”

Anoor took a step back. There were tears in her mother’s eyes, screwed up as they were with pain.

“I didn’t do that to you, though,” Anoor said. “That was the Sandstorm.”

Uka laughed. “But you, my changeling, my maggot, you are the vessel of those traitorous people. You are the blood, the dirty blood of those who stole from me.”

Anoor’s back bumped against the other desk in the room. The desk assigned to the Disciple of Strength. She took comfort in the cool wood. This was going to be hers.

“We will have to work together, you and me. Because I intend to change the empire,” Anoor said.

“Again, I heard…” Uka took a drag from her pipe, the red smoke filling out the silence in the room. “Shouldn’t you be getting in final practice with that servant of yours?” The question was mocking. It was time for Anoor to leave.

“I’ll see you for assignments tomorrow,” Anoor said, not quietly, but firmly. Her mother’s laugh was silent, but Anoor saw the billowing of the radish leaf smoke.

Anoor ran down the corridor, not caring about the sound she made. When she burst out of the doors to the outside, she pulled off her helmet and let the air cool the sweat that beaded across her face.

Then she smiled. Her mother didn’t once deny that she could win.

—

Anoor had one place left to go where she thought she could be safe. She rushed through the cloisters passing the first clockmaster, who confirmed she had three more strikes until the trial of combat began.

The gray legs of the arena came into view as she ran through the gardens, giving the trees around their training tower a wide berth. The wardens built the arena out of concrete, as they couldn’t mine enough whitestone bricks for the monstrosity. Concrete didn’t weather well during a tidewind, so the exposed gray legs were carefully inscribed with bloodwerk runes creating a constant push around anything that touched it. It protected it from the weaponized grains in the tidewind. The bloodwerk was only visible once you got within fifty handspans of the arena. Anoor often wondered how much blood it took to protect a building made for spilling blood.

“Anoor Elsari, you’re early.” The officer at the door shuffled his feet with the pitter-patter of excitement. His face held the shadow of his first mustache.

“I know, I just like to get a feel for the place.”

“What’s your precombat routine? You see my brother, he’s a captain, I’m just an officer, but he swears by twelve eggs from a brown hen every morn. He has two dozen brown hens.”

“That’s…a lot of eggs.”

“My sister, who works as an eru driver, doesn’t eat any meat or eggs at all, and she’s the fastest rider on this side of the river. What’s your secret?”

“I guess…I like to get a feel for the place, you know…get in early. Is the arena open?”

“Oh, sure, yes, go straight through.”

“Can you make sure I’m not disturbed? I really need to…get in the zone. So if anyone comes looking for me, just tell them I’m not here, okay?”

The officer nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course, of course. I understand, and thanks for letting me in on your little secret routine. I’ll be watching from the crowd to see if it pays off.”

Anoor moved past him and into the arena beyond. The runelamps lit up as she entered the combat floor, triggered by her presence. The floor had already been swept of blue sand, with no remnants of the bloodwerk trials that had filled the space. Instead, cast in the red runelight and the burning morning sun, a charcoal ring was prepared for the competitors, with four benches lining the four corners.