Shivering In Sunlight
Five years in the Isles of Ibrahim. Four years in a scholarly hall. Three years as an apprentice. The journey to becoming a magus is long and arduous, but those who emerge out the end wield power few can imagine.
“The Godly Histories.”
Ali Reza stared at the bronze plaque above the door, contemplating those simple words. This might be the only place on Rouhani containing the real history of the world’s gods. There was something unnerving about that. Hundreds of millions of people kept faith with the Eidolons of Ibrahim and their insipid religion, all based on lies.
No use dwelling on it. In time those lies would be the Eidolons’ undoing. The laughing snake would see to that. Until then, Ali Reza just had to be patient. He banished the thoughts from his mind and sauntered into the room. His nostrils filled with the aroma of smoke blended with parchment and aged wood.
The others had already arrived. They stood in a large circle around the room, nine figures left silhouetted by the dim torchlight, as if the fire’s glow was afraid to touch them.
The hunchback turned and snickered as he arrived. “The bandit arrives at last! Late, I might add.”
“Mojtaba,” Ali Reza greeted dryly.
“Maybe he was just afraid to show his face after his failure in the desert!” the colossus exclaimed.
“Peace, Almiraj,” the wolf growled in a low voice. “The Widowmaker was a difficult opponent. It is good that he no longer lives to serve Shah Bardiya.”
“Bah!” the colossus exclaimed. “He wasn’t even one of the six Aspbad Paladins anymore. Just some retired has-been.”
“Regardless, to kill him is an accomplishment, eye or not.”
“It is unusual though, isn’t it? Ali Reza has never failed before,” the pixie chimed in, her voice thin like a creature on the brink of starvation. Ali Reza recognized Ayanni not just by her voice, but by the way the air around her seemed to constantly shift and distort, like heat in the desert.
“You knew the Widowmaker during the Long War, didn’t you, Ali Reza?” the colossus said. “Could it be you went easy on him because of your shared history?” He punctuated the insult with a low chortle.
“Let us not judge so hastily,” Mojtaba interceded. “I heard that Executioner of Tel Kellah was there. I’m certain that complicated matters.” The hunchback flashed a devilish grin. “Such a relief to see that Ali Reza still walks among us.” Something in his voice caused the hairs on the back of Ali Reza’s neck to stand on end.
“Executioner?!” the pixie repeated. “The Arash Shara?”
“No fair!” the colossus bellowed. “Why wasn’t it me who was sent on this quest, then?!”
“Still your ignorant boasts, fool,” the assassin hissed. This one wore a fur hat with two long, pointed ears protruding from the top.
The wolf grunted. “Bunny is right. Ali Reza was sent because of his knowledge of the enemy. You, on the other hand Almiraj, would have been killed if you tried to face both Executioner and the Widowmaker.”
“Fat chance!” the colossus huffed indignantly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The pixie giggled. “Hehe! You guys are funny. We don’t do this enough.” From the folds of her cloak she produced a palm-sized, circular blade, hollow at the center. She began to spin the blade on the tip of her index finger.
Ali Reza felt himself growing irritated the more he listened to their banter, though perhaps it was the company rather than the content of what they were saying. He sighed loudly. “Does any of you idiots actually know why we’re here?”
For a moment the circle grew quiet.
“The master should be arriving shortly, now that we’re all here. I am certain he will explain his purpose in gathering us then, ” Mojtaba reassured him.
Ali Reza shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
“Why so impatient, Ali Reza?” the pixie asked. “It’s been so long since all of us were together like this.” She paused. “Hm. When was the last time, come to think of it?”
“Seven years,” Mojtaba replied. “Though we’ve changed a couple of members out since then.”
The assassin lowered his head and clasped his hands together in a gesture of prayer. “May our fallen be spared the Eternal Destroyer’s wrath.”
Ali Reza scoffed.
The assassin affixed him with a scathing glare. “You have a problem, Ali Reza?”
He raised his palms in a placating gesture. “No, of course not.”
The assassin snorted loudly. In truth, Ali Reza had never understood how it was that someone who worked for the laughing snake could be so pious. It wasn’t Bunny’s belief in the gods - Ali Reza knew as well as anyone that the gods were real. It was the small man’s insistence on worshiping those gods. In his view, such religious fervor reeked of ignorance and stupidity.
“Still, Ali Reza is right,” Mojtaba continued. “It is rare for the master to gather all of us in one place.”
“Heh, don’t be so full of yourself, Mojtaba,” the colossus chided. “You guys are mostly just numbers fodder, anyway. Mooks, if you will - here to fill out the ranks.”
The pixie’s grin widened as she continued to spin her blade. “Why don’t you come over here and find out if I’m a mook?” She blew a kiss at the colossus. The larger man recoiled as if slapped.
There was a rusted whine as the door began to creak open. The room seemed to suddenly become warm and bright, banishing the darkness that had submerged its occupants in shadow. Where before they had been silhouettes, now all of them could be seen as plain as day - a petite, blonde with a bob cut; a massive, fur-covered beast; a stringy young man in a bunny hat; the laughing snake’s ten chosen Apostles, possibly the most powerful single group of combatants in the world. And yet, even together their power didn’t even come close to approaching that of their master.
Ali Reza’s spine tingled as he felt that magical potence, causing him to draw in a breath. When he did, he was shocked to find his lungs refreshed as if he stood outdoors. Where the air of the library chamber had been stifling before, now it was as crisp as a cool wind on a bright, summer’s day.
Despite the warmth he felt goosebumps crawling up his skin. Stargazers in Ibrahim spoke of cosmic events incalculable distances away - exploding stars that, once every few generations, filled the sky with incomprehensible brightness. Ali Reza felt that power now, unsettling him. When his shoulders trembled it was as if his very soul was shivering in the sunlight.
“M-Master!” Mojtaba exclaimed.
The laughing snake traveled to the center of the room before speaking, positioning himself in the middle of their circle. He raised his arms as if to welcome a guest into his home. “Thank you all for coming, my friends.” His voice was booming, as deep as the infinite pool of magical power that seemed to emanate from his very pores. “I know you’ve all traveled a long way to be here. As always, I’m grateful for your loyalty.”
The colossus fell to his knees and prostrated himself. “Master! Please allow me to pursue the Arash Shara, Executioner! I will make up for Ali Reza’s failure, and bring you the Widowmaker’s eye!”
A vein bulged in Ali Reza’s forehead. He opened his mouth to respond, but the laughing snake raised a placating hand. “Your kind offer is appreciated, Almiraj, however there is no need for you to take action. In time, Executioner and her companion will bring the eye to me, along with what it contains. I have foreseen it.”
Ali Reza furrowed his brow. “Companion? Forgive me, master, but do you mean the girl?”
The laughing snake turned to meet his gaze, swallowing Ali Reza in the bottomless pit of those cold, unblinking eyes. “Yes. The Widowmaker’s daughter. The emerald-studded blade has claimed her.”
“Impossible! A girl without oaths, claimed by an empyrean blade?!”
The laughing snake’s smile widened a fraction. “Is that so surprising, my friend? The wisemen of Ibrahim were all merchants in the beginning, the same as her. Today their religious teachings encompass the world.”
Ali Reza grew quiet. No matter what the laughing snake said, it didn’t make sense. Powerful warrior and magi trained for decades to earn an empyrean weapon’s trust. How could a girl who had never seen a battlefield be chosen by one?
“Nothing is true, Ali Reza, only agreed upon.”
Words from over a decade earlier surfaced in the back of his mind, and with them a distant memory; a beautiful woman’s smile. Her smile.
Thinking on it now, he knew one thing for certain. The events of the last few days proved what he’d always suspected: the emerald-studded blade carried in Gen was a fake. It probably had been since the end of the Long War. Now the real one was in possession of the daughter of a man who had been both one of his greatest enemies and closest friends. What did you know, Hashem? Why did she choose to put her trust in you instead of me? What was so important?
“Shahnashah stirs. The time has come to bring out long-laid plans to fruition,” the laughing snake declared, jarring Ali Reza from his thoughts.
“What must we do, Master?” the assassin asked.
The laughing snake held up a hand, and light suddenly ignited from the tips of his fingers like fire from flint. A constellation of what looked like small stars ignited within nebulous, dark blue smoke. Though it looked like the night sky, however, upon further examination Ali Reza recognized the smoky shape as a vague outline of the world map of Rouhani. The stars seemed to be different points marked on the map, various locations and destinations.
The laughing snake gestured toward the map. “The emerald-studded blade is just the beginning. For our plans to succeed, we must collect the other empyrean weapons before enough of them follow in its footsteps.”
He began to walk the room, stopping by each of them in turn to gaze into their eyes, touching their shoulders and smiling at them.
“I named you all as my Apostles because you are among the most powerful warriors and magi in the world, and, more importantly, because you all have vision. You can see that the world is wrong, that it requires correction. I would trust no one more to gather such sacred relics.”
When the laughing snake reached him, Ali Reza tensed. The way his master looked at him... It made him feel exposed, as naked as the day he had been born.
“Some of these weapons will be more difficult to collect than others. Those already claimed are in the possession of skilled magi such as Fernandes and Solomon, or great warriors such as Ansat and Kujo’Neji. Moving forward, you will travel in pairs. We will be at this task for several years. Success will require your cooperation with each other.”
The colossus snorted derisively, though he dared not say anything that might challenge the laughing snake.
“Ohhh, that sounds fun!” the pixie exclaimed. She sighed loudly. “Traveling can be oh so lonely sometimes...”
“What are the pairs?” the assassin asked eagerly. “And where will each of us begin?”
Ariana sucked in a breath, nocking an arrow. Her skin felt flush with power, as if the heat in her veins would escape through her pores at any moment. The magical energy helped focus her, sharpened her senses and her mind. She pulled back the string of her bow. In her peripheral vision she was distantly aware of light radating from the overlapping twin circles tattooed on her left tricep. She exhaled at the same time as she loosed the arrow.
No sooner had the arrow left her bow than it changed in mid air, transforming into holy energy that filled the room with blinding, white light. Ariana shuddered at the release of power. The storm inside of her grew a fraction less wrathful, the lightning coursing through her veins just a little dimmer.
The white glow dissipated. Across the room her target smoked from the bullseye at the center, burnt wood emanating a charcoal smell reminiscent of a bonfire. Ariana studied the target for a moment, then surveyed the rest of the room - twelve lanes with three targets each, spaced at various distances closer or farther from the firing line. Most of the targets bore numerous faded scorch marks, evidence of the many students who practiced their offensive magic in this room.
“Damn, I hope you weren’t thinking of me when you fired that,” a voice said from behind her.
Ariana spun around. “Rasif!” The young magus stood in the entrance to the room, watching her. “How long have you been there?” she asked him.
“Long enough.” He began to walk toward her. He stopped a few meters away, nodding toward the smoking target. “I feel sorry for the poor fucker who messes with you.”
Ariana laughed. “It’s just a target. No poor fucker here, at least not yet.”
Rasif began to pace the firing lanes, studying the targets she had marked. “Your Holy Bolt is as precise as ever,” he observed.
She shrugged. “It’s an easy oath to maintain.”
Rasif inclined his head. “What’s a princess doing fighting demons so frequently?”
“The sands are flush with evil creatures. As crown princess, it’s my duty to help protect the people from such things.”
“Isn’t that what the warrior caste is for?”
Ariana folded her arms. “What kind of ruler will I make if I ask my warriors to do something I’m not willing to do myself?”
A small smile touched Rasif’s lips. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Unlike you,” she replied, nodding toward him.
Rasif grimaced bashfully. “I might look different, but I’m still the same person you knew.” He took a step toward her.
“The boy I spent winters with didn’t have muscles like that,” Ariana said. She smirked.
This time it was Rasif who shrugged. “The boy you spent winters with wasn’t particularly well liked by girls. They tend to prefer men.”
Ariana raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Is that why you did it? For girls? Is that what the beard is for, too?”
“For the right girl, maybe.” He met her gaze, his eyes twinkling wistfully in the candlelight. The way he looked at her all but confirmed what Vahid had said about him. Gods, he was going to lord that over her forever, wasn’t he? Already she could hear his smug chuckle in the back of her mind. Ariana tried not to make a face at the thought. After a moment Rasif cleared his throat and looked away. “What about you? Are you happy with Vahid?”
“Yes,” she replied, a little too quickly. She cursed herself at the indelicacy of her answer as she caught sight of the disappointment in Rasif’s eyes. She’d never see him that way, but that didn’t mean she had to be insensitive, did it? Ariana collected her words, then tried again. “I am happy with him. He’s... compassionate, and brave.”
“And Kazem Davani wasn’t?”
Ariana pursed her lips. “He was, but... I didn’t love him. I think he was too much of a product of his upbringing, whether he realized it or not. That wasn’t his fault, but...” She trailed off.
“But it can be difficult to love someone who’s so hard,” Rasif guessed.
“Yeah...” Ariana admitted. She turned away, clutching her arms as if for warmth. “It’s not his fault. His father is just so... so cold.”
Rasif snorted. “That might be the understatement of the century.”
“You understand what I mean though, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Rasif said. “His father has visited Alcaraz Hall on several occasions. I know what he’s like. It’s no exaggeration to say that Ashezama Davani is the most ruthless man in the Golden Empire. Maybe even the world. I’m not sure that man has a heart beating inside of him. Probably just a stone carving of a trebuchet or something.”
Ariana laughed. “Probably.”
“They call Executioner a machine of war, but I think it’s more true of Kazem’s father.”
Ariana looked at her feet, trying not to let mention of the Arash Shara bother her. What must Executioner think of her right now? That woman had always been there for her. When her mother had died, Executioner’s presence in her life had only become more consistent, more caring. And yet, Ariana had just run away without saying a word to her. How could that be anything but the ultimate betrayal? It was worse than what she had done to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, worse than what she had done to Kazem or to her father.
But it still wasn’t her worst crime. For a moment she flashed back to the image of Kazra splayed out on that bridge, blood leaking from his mouth and neck. For all she knew he might be dead.
Rasif, noticing the troubled look on her face, abruptly turned back toward her target. “I’m still so impressed by your Holy Bolt. You’ve come a long way. Gods, I remember when you first learned the spell.”
Ariana’s nose wrinkled. “I was awful at it.” She smiled gratefully at the fluid change in subject.
“Not just awful. You must have been the worst caster of Holy Bolt that I’d ever seen.”
“Hey!” she exclaimed, laughing. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“Yes, you really were that bad,” Rasif replied, joining in her laughter. “But,” he added. “I also remember the way you kept at it, practicing every day until you were better than anyone else in Alcaraz Hall, even Master Melika.”
“Now you’re just going for flattery.”
“Maybe.” He grinned. The way he smiled warmed her heart, reminding her of shared adolescence and beautiful memories made together as youths. “Are you still as good as you were then?” he asked her.
She matched his grin. “Maybe.”
“How about a competition, then?”
Ariana hesitated. “A competition?”
“Munafasa. Low stakes.”
“Hm,” she mused. “What did you have in mind?”
Rasif’s smile grew until it stretched from ear to ear. “Three shots each. Archery scoring rules. Whoever does the best wins.”
She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll humor you. What are we betting?”
“Can you still cook that curry?”
“Of course I can!” Ariana exclaimed defensively. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”
“Well, if I win, how about you make it for me tonight?” he suggested.
She considered. “Alright,” she said at last. “But if I win, you’re buying my drinks for a night.”
Rasif paled. “All of them?”
“What’s wrong?” she cooed. “Not sure you can win?”
Rasif chuckled. “Fine. You’re on, rich girl.”
She extended her hand for him to shake. His touch was surprisingly warm, eliciting a jolt of electricity from her fingertips to her forearm. “How is your skin so hot?” she asked. His face contorted into what could only be describe as an unreadable, opaque, vaporous cloud of smug. “Nevermind, forget I asked. Let’s just get this started.”
“In the name of the King of the Gods, Ahura Mazda, I invoke Munafasa!” Rasif declared. “I challenge Ariana, crown princess of the Golden Empire, to a contest of accuracy with Holy Bolt! Each of us will fire three shots at a target, following the scoring rules of archery. If I lose, I’ll buy all of Ariana’s drinks for one night.”
Curious, she thought, that Rasif invoked Ahura Mazda rather than his own native god, Anahita, goddess of the commons. She decided not to comment on it. Rasif was a magus now, perhaps it did make more sense to invoke the magi caste’s god.
“In the name of the governing god, Mithra, I accept your challenge,” Ariana said. “If I lose, I’ll cook my curry for you tonight.” Her heart thundered in her chest, a single pounding beat in response to her promise. She could almost feel the weight added to her soul by the gods’ heavy gaze. She inclined her head toward the firing lanes. “Challenger first.”
Rasif took position at the lane to her right, aiming a finger at its center target. A bolt of white hot, crackling energy burst from his index finger with a booming sound like a drumbeat echoing in a ravine. His first bolt struck the target dead center, leaving a smoking, black char on the bullseye. His second and third blasts struck exactly the same position. He turned to her with a smirk.
Ariana whistled. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Rasif echoed. “That’s a perfect thirty.”
Ariana matched his smirk. “Nothing is perfect, Rasif, least of all people or magic.”
Rasif frowned. “What’s your point?” he asked.
“Magic is more than just lists of spells,” she explained, recalling Melika’s lessons to her. “You can tell a lot about a person by the spells they have access to.”
“I’m still not following.”
“Well, for instance, take Holy Bolt. Since I use it, you know that I spend time slaying demons. You know that I’ve sworn an oath to protect people from those demons. That’s not all you can glean, though. You can understand me better by observing how I use the Holy Bolt.”
Rasif’s brow wrinkled further. “How you use it?”
“Sure. Whom I target with it, as well as which specific spells I use in combination with it.” She fired her first bolt with a casual flick of the wrist. The white lightning crashed into the bullseye of her target, leaving a trail of steam emanating from the blackened wooden center. Again she felt the slight dip in her ka, her magical energy drained not just by Holy Bolt, but by another spell layered on top of it. “What happens, for example, if I mix Holy Bolt with Focused Eye and Reduction?”
Rasif’s eyes widened. Ariana loosed a second bolt, this one aimed slightly to the right of the bullseye. Before it had even struck the target, she unleashed her final bolt. It was thinner than her previous shots, and aimed not just at the target, but at her second bolt. The bolt split before reaching the target, resulting in two smaller bursts of lightning; one hit the bullseye, the other the immediate right of the bullseye. What remained of her third bolt hit the bullseye less than a millisecond later.
When she had finished, she left behind not three, but four smoking marks - a “perfect thirty,” as Rasif had called it, plus an additional nine points.
Rasif’s jaw dropped. “What in the...”
Ariana grinned. “Looks like I win.” She sauntered over to Rasif and patted his shoulder playfully. “I can’t wait to taste those free drinks.”
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