Page 49 of The Gilded Ones

“They locked me in a cage, under the lake! They thought I would die, but I didn’t. I just kept drowning. I just kept drowning!” Tears are pouring down her eyes, and her whole body shudders. “Over and over and over and—”

White Hands grabs her up. “Who are they?” she asks.

“My family,” Gazal sobs.

White Hands shakes her head. “Your bloodsisters are your family. Who are they?”

“The House of Agarwal,” Gazal answers, confused. Tears are still pouring from her eyes.

White Hands grips her by the hair, pulls her along. “I said, WHO ARE THEY?”

I can no longer watch. “White Hands, please stop,” I say, hurrying over. “You don’t have to frighten her!”

White Hands turns to me, her eyes deadly calm. “Interrupt me, Deka – any of you interrupt – and I will deliver you pain such as you have never before imagined.”

We all step back, horrified.

White Hands continues pulling Gazal by her hair, not even budging when Gazal fights so hard, her feet dig into the lake’s muddy banks. She pushes Gazal down until her head is nearly to the water.

“WHO ARE THEY?” she roars.

“NO ONE!” Gazal wails, finally understanding. “They are no one, please, Karmoko! They are nothing to me any more.”

This answer satisfies White Hands. She releases Gazal’s hair, then walks back over and selects a sword. She looks down at it, her eyes considering the blade. “If you’d had a sword in those days, no one would have been able to do that to you.”

She walks over, flings the sword at Gazal’s feet. “You have one now. What will you do?”

Trembling, Gazal picks up the sword, looks from White Hands back to it. White Hands picks up the rest of the weapons and hands them to us, giving Britta the war hammer last.

Finally, she turns back to Gazal and nods. “You can come at me, but that will be a very short venture. Or you can choose.” She waves to us. “Choose an opponent.”

I know, almost instinctively, whom Gazal is going to choose.

“Her,” she whispers, her voice going cold as she points at me. “I choose her.”

White Hands claps, delighted. “Excellent choice, novice! Deka is the perfect opponent for you.”

Gazal approaches, murder in her eyes, and something stills in me – a subtle shifting as my senses sharpen. I take a step back, take a deep breath, and tighten my grasp on my sword. Gazal’s out for blood – I can tell just by looking. Nevertheless, I’m ready for her. As Karmoko Huon always says, “First rule of combat: be prepared to engage at all times.”

I widen my stance as White Hands nods to Gazal. “Have at her,” she waves.

Gazal rushes me so fast, I move only seconds before her sword slices where my neck would have been. Surprise rips a gasp from my throat. She’s not just out for my blood, she’s out for my head, the easiest way to kill an alaki. But I’m prepared to die in combat, just as Karmoko Huon taught me. And, more to the point, I already know that beheading is not my final death. I use this reminder to breathe, to focus on tracking Gazal as she attacks me again, her assaults lightning fast. In her combat state, Gazal is like the wind – the fastest alaki in the Warthu Bera, now that Katya is gone.

That means I have to be smarter, or if I’m not careful, this lesson will end with her taking my head.

“Watch out, Deka!” Britta calls.

I whirl, following this cry to find Gazal already at my back. I have mere seconds to jerk away before she can thrust her sword through my stomach. I dodge, but I’m still not fast enough. The sword slices into my forearm, and I wince, clenching my teeth against the white-sweet pain. Gold springs up, stinging the wound. I ignore it. I’ve felt worse pain than this, experienced much worse things. This is only a scratch, I tell myself.

White Hands laughs again, raising her cup in a toast to me. “Conquer or die, Deka. Either way, you learn your lesson.”

Lesson… The word reverberates through my body, a reminder that I’ve had many other such lessons in the past month. Lessons aimed at teaching me survival – no, victory – against all odds.

Conquer or die…

I’m not dying again. Not today, anyway.

I look at Gazal, her body seemingly overtaken by the wildness shimmering in her eyes. There’ll be no reasoning with her. No talking. Gazal needs to let out her pain, and I’m the one she’s selected to do so. The only honourable thing I can do is fight. Win.

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