The Desert Spear

“Peace, my friend,” the Andrah told the Sharum Ka. “Let him tell his tale. You will have the last word.”

It struck Jardir then just how close these men were. Both had held their respective palaces for nearly four decades. Jardir had held some hope that the Andrah might still desire a strong Sharum Ka, but seeing his bloated form gave him grave doubts. If the Andrah himself had forgotten the warrior way, could he condemn his loyal Sharum Ka for the same offense?

“There was a horn call for aid,” Jardir said. “Since we were unengaged, I scaled the wall to see if we could answer it. But the call came from the fourth layer, and many battles raged in between them and our position. I was about to descend back into the Maze when the Watcher I sent returned with news that the Sharach were being overrun, and would soon pass from this world.”

He paused. “All dal’Sharum expect to die in the Maze. A dozen warriors, two dozen, even a hundred in a night, what does it matter when we do Everam’s work?

“Yet there is a difference between losing men and losing a tribe. What honor would I have if I stood idly by?”

“You said yourself the way was blocked,” Amadeveram noted.

Jardir nodded. “But my Watcher made it there, and I remember running the walltops with my men as nie’Sharum. I asked myself, Is there anything a boy can do that a man cannot? So we ran the walls, praying to Everam that we would be in time.”

“And what did you find when you arrived?” Amadeveram asked.

“Half the Sharach were down,” Jardir said. “Perhaps a dozen remained, none without injury himself. They faced a like number of alagai, and with their pit revealed, the demons knew to avoid it.”

Again, Jardir looked to the Sharach Damaji. “The remaining men stood tall in the night. The blood of Sharach, who stood with the Shar’Dama Ka himself, runs strong in their veins.”

“And then?” the Damaji pressed.

“My men joined our Sharach brothers, and we routed the alagai, throwing them in the pit and showing them the sun.”

“It is said you slew several yourself,” Amadeveram said, pride evident in his voice, “using sharusahk alone.”

“It was only two I sent to the pit that way,” Jardir said. He knew his wife was scowling behind her veil, but he did not care. He would not lie to his Damaji, or claim glory that was not rightfully his.

“Still, no small feat,” Amadeveram said. “Sand demons have many times a man’s strength.”

“My years in Sharik Hora taught me strength is relative,” Jardir replied, bowing.

“This makes him no less a traitor!” the Sharum Ka snarled.

“How did I betray?” Jardir asked.

“I gave an order!” the Sharum Ka cried.

“You gave a fool’s order,” Jardir replied. “You gave an order that wasted your best warriors while condemning the Sharach to destruction. And still I complied!”

The Majah Damaji, Aleverak, stepped forward. He was an ancient man, older even than Amadeveram. He was like a spear, stick-thin but tall and straight despite close to seventy years.

“The only traitor I see is you,” Aleverak snapped at the Sharum Ka. “You are supposed to stand for all the Sharum in Krasia, but you would sacrifice the Sharach just to quell a rival!”

The Sharum Ka took a step toward the Damaji, but Aleverak did not back off, striding forward and assuming a sharusahk stance. Unlike Jardir, a mere kai’Sharum, a Damaji could challenge and kill a Sharum Ka, opening a succession.

“Enough!” the Andrah cried. “Back to your places!” Both men complied, dropping their eyes in submission.

“I won’t have you fighting in my throne room like…like…”

“Men?” Inevera supplied.

Jardir almost choked at her audacity, but the Andrah merely scowled and did not reprimand her.

The Andrah sighed, looking very tired, and Jardir could see the weight of years upon him. Everam grant I die young, he prayed silently.

“I see no crime here,” the Andrah said at last. He looked pointedly at the Majah. “On either side. The Sharum Ka gave orders as he should, and the kai’Sharum made a decision in the heat of battle.”

“He insulted me before my men!” the Sharum Ka cried. “For that alone, I am within my rights to have him killed.”

“Your pardon, Sharum Ka, but that is not so,” Amadeveram said. “His insult gives you the right to kill him yourself, not to have him killed by other men. If you had done so, the matter would be closed. May I ask why you did not?”

There was a pause as the Sharum Ka groped for a response. Inevera nudged him gently.

Jardir glanced at her. Have we not won? his eyes asked, but hers were hard in response.

“Because he is a coward,” Jardir announced. “Not strong enough to defend the white turban, he hides in his palace and sends others to fight on his behalf, waiting for death to find him like a khaffit instead of seeking it in the Maze like a Sharum.”

The Sharum Ka’s eyes bulged, and veins stood sharply on his face and neck as he gnashed his teeth. Jardir tensed, expecting the man to leap upon him. In his mind’s eye, he imagined all the ways he might kill the old man.

But there was no need, for the Sharum Ka gripped his chest and fell to the floor, twitching and foaming at the mouth before lying still.

“You knew that would happen,” Jardir accused when they were alone. “You knew if I enraged him enough, his heart would give way.”

Inevera shrugged. “What if I did?”

“Fool woman!” Jardir shouted. “There is no honor in killing a man in such a way!”

“Ware your tongue,” Inevera warned, raising a finger. “You are not Sharum Ka yet, and never will be without me.”

Jardir scowled, wondering at the truth of her words. Was it his fate to be Sharum Ka? And if so, could fate be changed? “I will be lucky to even remain a kai’Sharum after this,” he said. “I killed the Andrah’s friend.”

“Nonsense,” Inevera said, smiling wickedly. “The Andrah is…pliable. The post is empty now, and you have won glory that even the Majah acknowledge. I will convince him that he can only gain face by appointing you.”

“How?” Jardir asked.

“Leave it to me,” Inevera said. “You have other concerns. When the Andrah places the white turban on your head, your first announcement will be an offer to take a fertile wife from each tribe as a symbol of unity.”

Jardir was scandalized. “Mix the blood of Kaji, the first Deliverer, with lesser tribes?”

Inevera poked him hard in the chest. “You will be Sharum Ka, if you stop acting the fool and do as you’re told. If you can produce heirs with ties to each tribe…”

“Krasia will unite as never before,” Jardir caught on. “I could invite the Damaji to select my brides,” he mused. “That should gain me favor.”

“No,” Inevera said. “Leave that to me. The Damaji will choose for politics. The alagai hora will choose for Everam.”

“Always the bones,” Jardir muttered. “Was Kaji himself bound to them?”

“It was Kaji who first gave us the wards of prophecy,” Inevera said.