Chapter Text
Fang whites were a special kind. Namaari could still recall the day her mother took her to the looms to see how the elders weaved the fabrics into thick mountains of feathery white silk. They’re fabrics that had been treated with immense care through a process that could take up to a year. They’re made of hundreds of thousands of threads of silk, interwoven once, twice, thrice, even up to thirty times over. And they were hardened through repetitive motions and controlled strains. This made them very thick, resilient, soft robes, which in turn meant that most Fang citizens only owned two or three pairs in their lives, maybe five or six if you were a princess or a high-ranking general. And, of course, they weren’t all white. But dyes were quite expensive during the Druun days.
Which in turn meant Namaari was so used to her own clothes she immediately felt stiff and uncomfortable all over as she pulled on the pieces Eli brought her.
Apparently, back when Kumandra was one – way back when the dragons were first alive – Heart and Fang held such a tight relationship that Namaari’s ancestors even dared to share their special robes with the Heart people. Sadly, the only vestige of this tight relationship was one lousy top that wrapped around Namaari’s torso just like her own except for the neck, which sported a hood and a pair of shoulder guards, but nothing else. Which meant Namaari had to pair it with a flowing, silky pair of bright red pants that felt like she was virtually wearing nothing at all over her undergarments, a strange couple of sandals and a traditional Heart belt. At least she got to keep her own armbands and earrings.
Uncomfortable as she was, though, she was about to step out of the room and head for the Council when Eli stopped her, “Wait, Princess,” she called, “Princess Raya insisted I gave you this, too.”
She held in her hands a piece of blood-red cloth and, inside it, a medallion. No, the medallion. Sisu’s.
Namaari was struck silent, so Eli reached over her head and silently hung the medallion from the Fang Princess’ neck. It rested against her chest like a crowd of heavy, unanswered questions.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it. Hadn’t it broken? Wasn’t it lost?
But she didn’t ask. Namaari simply followed the girl who silently led her through the palace, feet lightly tapping against the polished floors and her mind racing to try and remember what had actually happened to the medallion about a month ago, but it was all a blur. In that precise moment, she could barely recall those few days of chaos that led to the defeat of the Druun. She shook her head just as they were rounding a corner. Not the time.
Unlike Fang, Heart’s palace was a refreshing and strange place. Where Fang’s walls were solid and airy, with tall hallways and sharp edges, Heart’s was winding and colorful and warm. And it was just as Namaari remembered as a child. There were plants everywhere, and all the walls were covered in rugs and paintings and relics of all types, and the floors were sometimes wooden, sometimes stone, and there were curling stairs and steps, and small interior gardens every few chambers, flowing with a slightly humid breeze, and soon enough Namaari was so lost amongst it all that she could barely recall what floor she was in or where the north was.
They arrived at a crowded hallway in about five minutes. Namaari was quite certain they’d climbed quite a few stairs but there were no windows for her to confirm her suspicions. Still, her fear of heights was starting to act up again, so she merely smiled when Eli said goodbye, not trusting her own voice.
The people on the hallway, all looked strange to her, so Namaari refrained from interacting either. They were certainly all waiting to enter the Council’s Chambers and certainly all Ambassadors of the other tribes judging by their different robes, and they all talked and mingled as old friends would, but Namaari couldn’t for the life of her recognize a single face.
There were no white robes around, too. Her mother had kept her word.
And she won’t lie, Namaari did search for a particular mane of dark hair, a particular set of energetic eyes and dusty clothes, but she couldn’t seem to recognize anyone at all.
So, she rested against the wall and hung her head, trying her hardest to keep her mind clear and her heart still. Trying to think of what the meeting would entice, of what they would discuss. Territories, trading, military. She concentrated her fidgety hands on massaging her own muscles, sore after a day’s work with Han and Jomari, on adjusting the bandages on her still-healing arm, on fixing the strange, silky fabric of her pants that never seemed to sit still against her skin, tickling and moving about at the breeze’s command, or on pulling back her hair to make sure it was tidy and formal.
She wished she had Atitaya there. Or Buwan. Or even her mother. She suddenly felt very much alone, not even her clothes her own.
What if this was a bad idea? What if I’m only making a fool of myself? Coming into Heart without my Chief’s approval, basically on a whim? Am I truly betraying my people by coming here?
“Welcome! Ambassadors of Kumandra, please be welcomed to the palace of Heart!” Benja’s voice pulled Namaari out her thoughts and made her look up. He appeared over the heads of the people milling around, his arms raised above the crowd as he smiled, “Please, come inside the Chamber of the Council and let’s celebrate, in unison, our first official meeting.”
Immediately, the crowd surged forward and Benja’s face was lost to Namaari again. She steeled herself, pulling back her shoulders and cracking her knuckles for good measure. She was ready. She was Fang’s Princess. And she was here to help her own people, and Kumandra too.
She was one of the last to enter, along with what looked like a group of officials that wore Tail’s traditional colors. Namaari suppressed a smile. She hadn’t seen Tail’s colors worn proudly since the break of the Dragon Gem.
The room was wide and airy inside. The door, which had appeared small surrounded by so many people, was actually at least three bodies wide and one and a half tall. Inside, the room was perfectly round and had three fourths of its walls covered in tall, wide windows all flanked by brightly colored silk curtains. The view made Namaari’s stomach shrivel into a tiny little raisin. They were surely at some of the highest parts of the palace, on the top of a hill, on the top of a natural arch that was hundreds of miles tall. Past everything, Kumandra stretched out until the sunset burned its edges. Namaari forced herself to look away and breathe deeply.
Inside, there were two sets of seats. One set were five seats around a simple, round, wooden table. All the seats were the same; simple armchairs with a single design carved straight into the wooden back – a dragon. And each seat had a part of its central piece painted white. A Fang, a Heart, a Talon, a Spine, and a Tail.
Each seat had either someone siting on them or standing beside it; Chief Benja, a tall man in dark robes, a short, stocky woman in bright Talon colors, and a lanky man with glasses – all except Fang.
The second set of seats was a wider circle with at least three rows, near the walls, where the rest of the people were currently finding their seats. Thanks to traditional colors, Namaari could immediately tell who belonged to which city, and each central seat had at least ten other people from their city behind them.
“Agh, as always. Fang wishes nothing to do with the rest of us!” A booming voice called, “And this is how they expect us to hold their treaties? Bah, Benja, I told you – Fang’s traditions are as old as time and sadly, they do not include anyone else. It was a waste to invite them and to hold their seat. They disgrace us with their absence.”
“That is, if they were, indeed, absent.” Namaari called, her voice sure as she stepped towards the central circle of seats and the table, the height and her insecurities suddenly forgotten as she heard her people’s name being trashed like that. The whole room turned to her, but she concentrated on who’d spoken – the man from Spine who stood by Spine’s seat. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with his hair cut short and a high set of cheekbones that framed a pair of deeply set eyes. Namaari remembered him from when she was child, suddenly, as a very scary man. She glared at him, “But as it turns out, Fang is not absent. I, Princess Namaari, daughter of Chief Virana of Fang, come as both a sign of good faith from my people and as their Ambassador.”
The man looked something between startled and annoyed, “Where are your councilors, Princess?”
“I am afraid they were held back at Fang. But they will come in a few days’ time if everything goes well.” Namaari said curtly. Then, she added more calmly, “Thank you for your interest, Ambassador…”
“Ulan,” he said proudly, “Ambassador Ulan of Spine, cousin of Chief Tong.”
“You were taken by the Druun when the Gem was broken.” Namaari’s lips spoke before she could hold them back as recognition dawned on her. Now she remembered, he was scary not for his features, but because Namaari’d run past his statue as she escaped Heart after the Druun were released.
She could see the Ambassador’s face harden and couldn’t bare it any longer. She looked away, feeling nauseous.
“Yes, I was,” he admitted, words turned into venom.
Namaari immediately leaned down, bowing. She held the sign of the Gem over her head in his direction and took her time.
When she stood tall again, she saw his eyes had softened slightly, “I wish to apologize, then.” She said, “To you and to everyone from your tribe who suffered at the hands of the Druun. I am here to mend my own mistakes, and my people’s.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
She wanted to say more, to convey just how sorry she was, just how much pain she could feel in them and in herself, how much guilt. She could feel the tension in the room rise as silence slowly covered every inch of it. But then she felt a warm hand land on her shoulder and a voice speaking from beside her, “Don’t worry, Princess Namaari, a lot has changed since then. We are all together now, and the Dragons have all come back, thanks to you. You and my daughter have mended what thousands of years could not.”
Namaari tried to smile at him, but she had a very hard time at it.
“And, talking about dragons, along with Ambassadors from the five tribes as you all can see were invited, I’ve also extended an invitation to Sisu, who will act as the dragons’ Ambassador here. Sadly, she refused to accept a seat at the table, but she will be coming sporadically to both help us and guide us.”
There were approving sounds coming from everyone around as the tension eased. Namaari admired Benja for that. He somehow seemed to be able to ease every single room he entered. Unlike Namaari, who only knew how to tense it up again. She could already feel the strain taking a toll on her shoulders and neck.
As the rest around her found their seats, Namaari considered leaving the Fang one empty and going for one on the outer rows. She technically wasn’t Fang’s Ambassador since Fang didn’t have an official one. Not yet anyways. But then she thought better of it. Those were internal issues. Nothing to speak of in a council of this nature. Virana’s voice came to her then; above all, Fang must show no weaknesses if it wants to remain safe. Weaknesses will be exploited. So, she took the few remaining steps towards the seat with the white fang and pulled out the chair.
Between Tail and Heart, Namaari found herself seated right across from the Spine Ambassador, Ulan. This did not paint a good picture, at all. His back was ramrod straight, legs open wide, feet planted securely on the floor, one hand on the table as if it was his own, and eyes squinting hard as he surveyed the room with a face as plain as grain. Namaari’s political itch started tingling. This man would be an adversary, she was sure of it. He was strong and stoic and something like the perfect mix of calculative and impulsive. But he could also be an ally, if she played her cards right. He certainly looked strong, but was he smart? Was he manipulative? Did he have Kumandra’s interests at heart or was he – much like her own mother – advocating for his people alone?
But something else distracted her then. Something else did not paint a good picture, too, and it was the seat to Namaari’s right – Heart’s. it was empty. She looked around and found Chief Benja sitting in the middle of the Heart delegation in the outer set of seats. He calmly looked around, sporadically waving and nodding his head in respect as other officials took their seats and greeted him from afar. He looked like someone at an old family reunion, so happy to see everyone together that he forgets any kind of formality.
Confused and expecting him to take the seat next to her, Namaari’s heart almost left her chest when the doors to the Council’s Chambers opened one last time to let in one more person – Heart’s Ambassador.
“Ah, there you are Dewdrop!” Chief Benja stood from his seat as the last officials around them took theirs. Everyone was watching Raya now, and Raya was watching – surprisingly – Namaari.
“Dep la, so nice of you to join us.” She taunted. Namaari’s blood boiled with something between annoyance and surprise, but Benja’s voice distracted her enough to remember they were allies now, “Ah, yes. Fang has graced us with a last-minute delegation. Please, Raya. Join the table so we may begin.”
Raya swiftly fell onto the seat beside Namaari’s, but the Fang princess could not take her eyes off of her. There was a lot happening inside her chest at the moment, and nothing had anything to do with the Council at all.
Shame, for starters, deep inside her burning like bile; joy tingling at the roof of her mouth; anger rising from her belly and pressing up into her chest; unease; embarrassment; everything. Why was Ulan watching her so closely now? Why was Raya smiling so much? Wait, was Chief Benja speaking?
“…as one, I believe we will have so much more reach than before. We’ll be able to help everyone find a home – a place that is their own and a place that is safe. Weather it is at Heart, or Fang, or Spine, or Talon or Tail. We are as one now and as one, we will find a way to prosper and grow – together.”
Catching only the last of Benja’s opening speech, Namaari had to physically shake her head to snap out of her trance. The table, luckily, was still watching Benja so they didn’t notice.
“What about the people who have abandoned their tribe?” Raya’s words followed her fathers as a river follows the ocean, snapping the room attention towards her and the table. Benja smiled, “And just like that, the Council has encountered their first topic.”
Namaari had whiplash. Just like that? But who will precede the council? Who are these people they are referring to?
Ulan stood, apparently taking the silence as his opportunity, “I propose anyone who has abandoned their people and their territory should stay where they are and made to sign a contract – they are not enemies of Kumandra, but just as they have decided already, they are not a part of it either. We have enough as it is. Maybe we can reconsider once all our cities are back to its original glory but, until then, I do not think it wise to take on more than we can handle.”
The room immediately filled with chatter as some agreed and some countered around them. But at the table the ambassadors remained silent. Namaari could see the Talon woman watching Ulan with sharp, eagle-like eyes while the Tail man was furiously scribbling along on a parchment he pulled out of nowhere. But Raya, as always, was the first to answer.
“That’s outrageous!” she called, standing from the table too, hands flat against the wooden surface as she leaned towards Ulan, “They belong at Kumandra just as much as any of us do. Whatever they did back then – they did it to survive. It is not up to us or anyone to judge them on it. They deserve the same chance to join us as any other.”
Namaari mulled it over. They had so little information, though. No numbers, not even estimates, of how many people they were talking about. They were basically just discussing ideals at this point, which was terribly pointless.
“I don’t think it is wise to discuss this with such little information regarding the subject,” she called from her spot, trying to lean back onto the chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, Namari found as she rested her forearms on the seat’s wooden arms and crossed her left ankle over her right knee before surveying the room patiently. The Tail ambassador kept on scribbling and the Talon one was now watching Namaari as she scratched her chin. To the other side, Ulan and Raya both shared an eerily similar skeptic look as they turned to her.
“What do you mean?” Raya asked.
“Well, Princess Hotheaded,” Namaari sneered for an instant before returning to her usual calm expression – the one she used during meeting such as these back at Fang. “We are talking about people. People need houses and food; they need protection and education and jobs. Those are all things that we will have to help them with if we decide to accept them back into Kumandra’s tribes.”
“What are you saying, Namaari,” Raya’s tone verged on explosive and Namaari could suddenly tell what was about to happen. She could read Raya’s cues like a children’s book. Raya wanted a fight. She was dying for it. The warrior in her didn’t even question why as it made Namaari clench every single muscle in her body, instinctively reaching for a pair of twin swords that weren’t there but back at Benja’s office. Thankfully.
After a moment’s pause, the politician in her made her breathe and calm down, reign the adrenaline back in just in time, “I am merely saying this is not a simple matter of do we want them back or not. It’s a matter of can we truly help them without neglecting what is already ours to care for or not. Like Ulan said.”
“I agree,” Ulan stepped in.
“Really?” Raya’s voice rose, her eyes set on Namaari’s and ignoring the rest of the table completely, “You are going to come in here and say we’re to decide who deserves help and who doesn’t? Why do I find that not surprising?”
Namaari didn’t respond. It was like her chest had constricted enough to close every single airway inside it. But Raya pressed on.
“Once again, Fang comes in all high and mighty, ready to decide who is worthy and who is not.” Raya mocked, and she did not look away, she held Namaari’s eyes like she held her sword – double gripped and as if her life depended on it –, as she stood over Namaari, waiting for an answer.
“What do you suggest we do then?” Namaari’s voice was embarrassingly brittle, but she managed to get it out and even throw a sharp glare in the mix, if only to get Raya to look away. She didn’t. Namaari did.
“I suggest,” Raya turned to the rest of the table and Namaari breathed out, eyes set on the wood. She felt her cheeks turn red and embarrassment burry her like an avalanche. So much so she didn’t dare a look at the other ambassadors, or their councilors.
“I suggest we ask them.” Raya declared, “Everyone should have the choice to join us. Kumandra is about peace and union. We cannot begin our ruling by choosing who is fit for it and who isn’t – everyone’s fit. Everyone should be welcomed.”
“I suggest, if I may, Princess Raya, some further studies.” The Tail ambassador had finally finished his scribbles and had raised a hand to get Raya’s attention. Raya was about to protest before she seemed to realize who had spoken. Instead, she nodded towards him respectfully before taking her seat. Ulan did the same. Namaari spared them both a look that told her they were urging to interrupt but they didn’t.
“As Princess Namaari said,” the Tail Ambassador continued, fixing his glasses as he spoke, “we may have the best of intentions, but we also have a duty to our tribes as much as to Kumandra. Right now, we’re all working at full capacity and, although, through very rough estimates, I project Fang and Talon may finish they own rebuilding process soon, there are not many resources to spare yet. Because of this, I suggest that as a Council we begin an evaluation of the country’s capacities so that resources are redirected to those who need it the most and then we can truly see if we have enough to help everyone – and how that help will look. Be it houses, food, work, or anything else.”
“I agree,” the Talon woman leaned in, “Tail Ambassador, may I suggest Talon’s two wisest mathematicians and our lead merchant – he oversees the resources Talon has in its entirety – to aid in this project?”
The Tail Ambassador nodded and smiled, “Thank you, Ambassador. We will need all the help we can get, yes.”
Ulan started nodding, “I agree. And I nominate the Tail Ambassador as the head of this project. Out of the five of us, you are the wisest in this sense – clearly. Whatever you need from Spine, we are willing to give to you freely.”
The Tail Ambassador looked taken aback. Namaari sneered. She’d been the one to suggest it first, she could totally take care of it. The rest didn’t seem to agree, though, as they nodded at Ulan’s suggestion. Ulan didn’t even spare her a glance.
“I still think there should be some guarantees,” Raya interrupted, “I refuse to accept this Council will leave those people out there unprotected for longer than necessary.”
“I am with the Heart Princess in this matter, too,” the Talon Ambassador said, leaning in, “We must be smart, but we cannot forget our purpose. The people.”
Both Tail and Spine nodded in agreement. Namaari remained still, her chin on her knuckles as she observed the light fading as the sun set past the room’s windows.
Why were they discussing this again? What was the point of it? There was so much more to do, much more urgent, than these hypothetical people, in Namaari’s opinion. Like the Serlot hunters south of Fang, or the lost cargo from that Talon ship she’d heard of. Or the people only a few miles outside of the palace’s doors like Han and Jomari. Concrete problems.
“Princess Namaari,” Raya turned to her with a look in her eyes Namaari couldn’t decipher, “Will Fang offer their mathematicians and engineers to help? After all, Fang has shown to have the most efficient rebuilding system of the five tribes.”
Namaari cleared her throat and pulled her eyes away from the horizon, “I will send word back to Fang as soon as I can asking for them, Princess.” She had to bite her lip not to say anything else or to curse herself for promising something she wasn’t certain of. She was Fang’s Ambassador, she reminded herself, though and through.
“Good,” Raya said, “I’ll make sure you have enough parchment, then.”
“Alright, what do you all say about a break? Chief Benja, I’m dying to try some more of that magnificent tea you offered us this morning.” The Tail Ambassador rose from his seat for the first time and Namaari only then noticed his limp. He struggled out of his chair for a moment before the Fang Princess was by his side helping him.
And just like that, the room was adjourned. Everyone rose and started chatting – weather about the Tail Ambassador’s project or something else entirely was beyond Namaari. She was still recoiling from… well, from everything.
“Thank you, Princess,” the Ambassador said as Namaari reached for his cane next to the table and passed it to him.
“Thank you, Ambassador,” she bowed her head at him for a moment before continuing, “I’ll try my best to get Fang’s sharpest to come help you. I’m sure they’ll be eager to tackle such complex problems along the brightest in Kumandra.”
The man chuckled, “Ah, I appreciate your enthusiasm, young girl, but I know Fang since before your mother was Chief. Fang is always Fang’s first and last priority, ain’t that right?”
Namaari pursed her lips, “And you’ve also seen where that has taken us. I am here because I wish to change and be better, both to set an example for my people and to help as much as I can. I will get them to cooperate.”
The man observed Namaari through his spectacles before reaching up and with a hand combing back the stubble of white hairs that covered his round head, “Well then it would be an honor to go forward with such honest support, Princess. I will be waiting to hear from you.”
Namaari bowed.
But then the Tail Ambassador was soon swept up in Benja’s embrace as he led his old friend towards the palace kitchens. He offered Namaari a drink too, but she politely declined. She needed space, urgently. The room was still full of chatter and movement, and it made her feel both claustrophobic and acrophobic. So, she silently looked around, made sure all the other Ambassadors weren’t paying attention, and she slipped out.
//
It was well past sundown when Namaari finally made her way back inside the palace. She was thankful that Heart, just like Fang, had a direct path between their palaces and the riverbed. The river always made Namaari’s heart settle. She didn’t know whether it was the roaring water that droned out her mind’s wanders, or the fresh smell of moss and dirt, or the simple energetic pull of the rush, the presence of such powerful forces peacefully treading by.
Water, what once felt like a desperate lifeline against the Druun, now felt like a lifeline against everything else.
And it didn’t hurt that she got to reunite with Buwan for a while.
Back inside, though, it didn’t feel so peaceful. The first guard she encountered immediately gave her directions to her chambers and informed her of a Council meeting tomorrow at lunchtime. He also insisted on walking her to her apartments.
She was set up on the southern side of the palace, apparently, not very high up, on a set of rooms built for at least ten people, which made sense had she come with the appropriate delegation. But alas, she was alone.
She dismissed the guard as soon as the doors were opened. Inside, she found her pack and her swords were already there on top of a very comfortable-looking bed. The main bedroom was nice enough, with big armchairs and desks and a fireplace to one side. But Namaari needed windows, so she picked her stuff and started exploring.
The last bedroom she found that belonged to the apartments she’d been assigned to was a small one. It had a bed and a small chest and a desk. It was probably for a soldier or a guard, but it had a tall window with a ledge big enough for Namaari to perch upon, and the window had a huge tree right outside. And so, she chose this as her bedroom.
It was a refreshing change from Fang’s wide and lavish spaces. Tighter, but not compressing. The sturdy tree that grew right outside the window was wide enough for Buwan to come and go as he pleased, once she called him in, made her feel like she could leave at a moment’s notice, should she so desire. It wasn’t as high up as her tower back home, either, but the wind still billowed outside, shaking the leaves of the tree, and gravity still pulled at her stomach every time she approached the ledge, so it would have to suffice.
She was about to relax when, as soon as she sat at the bed, she realized she wouldn’t be sleeping unless she talked to Raya.
The meeting had been a disaster, Namaari’d concluded. There was much more to settle before going into discussions such as those, but they’d all jumped into it like they had no control over what they said. Even Namaari. She should’ve taken the reigns of the Council and settled everyone down, start with the basics and then build up. You cannot fix a country in its first Council meeting.
Namaari sighed. But then again that was normal for such an important event. Everyone’s spirits and expectations were high, there was too much energy buzzing around. Also, too many people. How were they expected to discuss properly with so many councilors around just watching them?
Everyone wanted to get things done, but she doubted any of them had much experience leading. Raya certainly didn’t. She’d spent the last six years doing… well, surviving, Namaari guessed, and running away from Namaari. Ulan maybe, but he’d been under the Druun’s spell until a month ago, so he had no idea how the world worked now. The Talon woman and the Tail man were the only ones who looked promising, in Namaari’s mind, but she was yet unsure. The Tail man was a mathematician, an erudite, but he wasn’t a politician and he’d startled as soon as there were responsibilities shrouded upon him. He did not look like the kind to form alliances, but to stand with what he thought to be logical. A double-edged sword in all its senses. He could stand with Namaari for a moment and then oppose her the next. He had good ideas though. And the woman, well, she didn’t share much of herself at the table, which made her a threat in Namaari’s eyes, too.
But what truly made Namaari’s blood boil wasn’t all that. It was what Raya’d said, and how true it had rung. Who was Namaari to come and play pretend like she was supposed to be there? Namaari was lucky, that’s all there was to it. She had no right to decide on other people’s lives like that, not when her own actions had led to all their problems now.
//
The same guard that’d led her to her apartments pointed her in the direction of Heart’s Royal Training Rooms. Right now, it was so late the palace hallways were empty and a slight chill had woven through the breeze. Namaari welcomed it gladly, the hot humidity of the region something slightly off putting if you asked her.
The door to the Training Rooms were ajar and, as soon as she saw them, Namaari stopped. She breathed in and crushed down the tingly feeling in her stomach just as she’d done since she’d met Raya, so many years ago. Business. All business.
Inside, there were only a few lights still burning. Strong enough to light a single mat with a single warrior dancing around a strawed mannequin. Raya looked both exhausted and enduring. She had sweat dripping down her face and back, muscles taunt as she raised her arms in practiced, precise motions. She held her sword with expert ease, swinging it around the mannequin with barely-there touches. She jumped and twirled and kicked, and Namaari was hypnotized for a moment. The warrior in her urged her to concentrate on Raya’s form, on the way she prepared for a jump, on the position of her feet as she landed, immediately moving sideways to swing again. But she couldn’t stop herself from focusing on Raya’s face. Anger. Frustration. Hurt.
“You missed the rest of the session, binturi.” She suddenly called, voice strained as she swung a wide arc over the mannequin’s head, “The council felt quite empty without that big head of yours.”
Namaari was quick to answer, “Had to take some time away to think,”
Raya snorted before jumping over the mannequin and almost slicing its throat, “You think?”
“More than you do, I’m sure.”
“Ah,” slice, “we’re here to insult I see.” Stab, “What a surprise.” Parry and roll.
“No,” Namaari stepped up, confused and annoyed, “I just– I wanted to talk. With you.”
A double hit and a somersault over the mannequin had Raya finally somewhat facing Namaari, but it didn’t last. As soon as their eyes crossed Raya rolled under and slashed the poor thing again, “About what?”
“Will you stop that?!” Namaari’s voice strained, “I’m trying to have a conversation here!”
Raya hit the head of the mannequin with the butt of her sword before reaching down and slashing, “Well I’m not. What are you gonna do about it?” she twisted then and punctured the mannequin’s head, “Force me?”
Namaari was boiling by now, a mix of frustration and disappointment and fear. She knew she shouldn’t have; she knew she was turning a new leaf, that they were allies now. But Raya was not making it easy and Namaari, well Namaari’d had a long day.
“Alright then, you wanna fight?” She called, muscles pulling taunt as she stepped forward, shoulders squaring.
Raya didn’t even flinch. She kept her eyes on the mannequin, sword drawn, knees parallel to the ground and breathing hard.
“Isn’t that what we always do?”
Namaari had to admit that in the heat of the moment she didn’t hear Raya. Or, actually, she heard her, but her brain was in such a foggy state, between her frustration at Raya’s attitude, her loneliness and the powerlessness she’d felt back at the council, not to mention the strain of travelling and helping build a home all in the same day, too, that, well, she didn’t really process it until it was too late.
Two swift strides had Namaari inside Raya’s personal space. She was quick and efficient, only managing to catch Raya’s defiant smile for a millisecond before she had her left hand wrapped around Raya’s on the hilt of her sword. She pulled back just as she sidestepped, forcing Raya to lose her balance and drop the sword. But Raya didn’t care. She dropped the object and in a second was twisting around to avoid falling, face first, onto the mat.
“Nice trick, binturi, but you’ll need more than a simple pull and trip like that to get me on the ground.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Namaari threw the first punch, and her mind went into autopilot. Just like it had worked for the past ten year and more, she followed Raya’s movements with an ease many would’ve found eerie. Her body moved on its own accords, her limbs all owners of minds of their own, blocking, sidestepping, pulling, grabbing, punching, kicking, parrying. It was hypnotic.
She didn’t even have to think and, for the first time since the gem was restored, she felt silence in her mind, and withing the silence, peace.
The aching muscles, the feeling in her chest, that pressure that told her her body was stretched to exhaustion, the thrill of the movement, following Raya’s every shift, almost like a heavy, violent dance. Wherever Raya was, Namarari went. Wherever Namaari jumped, Raya would quickly follow. It was ecstasies in the making. No other warrior could ever follow Namaari quite like Raya could, challenge her quite like Raya did. She would always beat them before it got to this, before it became fun.
Soon enough, she was drenched in sweat. She’d even forgotten for a blinding moment why exactly they were fighting, so lost in the verb of the action that she’d started losing track of everything but Raya’s body.
But Raya didn’t.
Or at least she didn’t look like it.
Her frown had only deepened, her punches harder and harder as Namaari started pulling hers. She’d even started growling every once in a while, as her frustrations climbed and climbed, all the way up to the room’s ceiling.
“ARGH!” She called loudly as she punched the air once again, right where Namaari’s face had been only a second ago.
“Getting tired, binturi?” Namaari shouldn’t have teased, but she was having too much fun and her brain had shut down too many moves ago, falling back onto its old ways.
Raya screamed, a full-blown cry of war as she rushed forward. Namaari squared herself once more, but she was too slow to notice as Raya crouched on her way, sweeping her sword that had been forgotten on the matt, up in a matter of seconds. She raised it and pulled it down over Namaari’s head.
Namaari wasn’t fast enough this time.
She sidestepped as she felt fear – for the first time since they’d started sparring – cling to her throat. For a moment she thought she’d cleared the edge. She was fast, the fastest in Fang. But Raya beat her as she felt the sting of the edge catch her shoulder. She cried out as the pain sent shockwaves all throughout her body, making her legs turn to jelly.
She fell to the ground heavy and already squirming in pain and fear.
“Shit, Namaari!”
“Get away!”
Namaari didn’t know what possessed her – probably her survival instinct pumping what little adrenaline was left in her body to try and keep it safe – but she was on her feet in seconds, right hand clutching at her left shoulder, the bandages on her bicep from her previous wound already staining red. And she screamed, savage, “NO!” as she saw Raya coming closer, hands outstretched and sword nowhere to be seen.
Her face was a mess of sweat and hair and worry, hands ready to fix it, but Namaari could only feel the panic seizing her throat and the pain on her shoulder as the room spun and the air thickened, making it harder and harder to pull it into her lungs.
Raya reached out to try and touch her and Namaari kicked her back.
Too late she realized how much strength she’d put into the kick. With Namaari’s adrenaline-infused frenzy, she’d actually managed to throw Raya back several feet, her head and back knocking against the mannequin on the matt before she landed on the floor, groaning, “Namaari what the hell!”
Namaari tried to speak but her heart was on her throat, beating a hundred miles an hour and preventing any kind of movement. She opened and shut her mouth a few times like a shocked fish, eyes open wide and chest heaving, before she stumbled out of the room.
Somehow, she managed to stumble into her quarters, quiet and cold. She fumbled in the dark until she found a random piece of cloth which she used to make sure the bleeding stopped before collapsing onto the bed.
She didn’t sleep much that night. Her heart hammered between the sheets and her ribs for what felt like hours, The image of Raya’s anger crushing down onto her, the edge of her sword catching her after so many years of perfect parries and perfect strikes, haunted her mind’s eyes as she tried to settle it. It was bound to happen eventually; she’d concluded after hours and hours of replaying the scenes. They’d fought so many times… they were bound to draw each other’s blood eventually.
They were enemies, and Namaari was foolish enough to believe they might become friends someday, but she was wrong.
Kumandra might’ve reunited, but what she’d done to Raya… her dep la would never forgive her, would she?