Akil

  The errant Lords were meeting in a warehouse where the Merchants’ Quarter met the harbor. Just far enough away from it to avoid being noticed, he signaled them all to stop and moments later, a gruff voice called out from a nearby alley.

  “Took ya long enough.” The voice’s owner stepped out of the darkness to reveal a gruff looking man wearing a silver badge depicting Yol’s Ember – the flame surrounded by chains that only Honors were allowed to wear.

  In accordance with both Fam’e and Yol’s teachings, anybody could enter Yol’s temple and train to become an Honor. Those who proved they were worthy enough to wield a weapon in defense of life could earn the title, regardless of birth, but that didn’t mean all Honors were equal. Those born to or sponsored by Lords would serve them, while all others served as Hangkiti’s militia and peacekeepers. In name, they were all Honors, but there was a world of difference between the two.

  Akil’s group wore the identical steel armor issued to Honors serving Lords with the Ember gilded onto their breastplate and their respective Lords’ crests emblazoned on their capes. The scout on the other hand wore simple, poorly maintained leather armor that didn’t even carry the Ember without his badge. High-ranking Honors might wear armor like his if they needed to stay inconspicuous while moving around the outer city, but his demeanor alone made it clear that the scout wasn’t affiliated with the nobility.

  “Are you the scout?” Akil asked.

  “One of ‘em. Got about six other people keeping an eye out.”

  “What does the situation look like?”

  “A bit over 100 people loaded up in a warehouse. Haven’t gotten a good look inside, but there’re only three entrances. We’re watching ‘em all and nobody’s come out yet, so who knows what they’re up to,” the scout said, handing Akil a rough sketch of the building’s layout.

  Of the three entrances, one was a large set of bay doors where carriages would unload their goods. The other two were smaller side doors for personnel. While the building had skylights to let light in during the day, there were no windows accessible from the ground.

  “That will do,” he said, dismissing the scout. They were outnumbered, but the 35 they had were Hangkiti’s elite. Each one could easily take on 20 Scars if necessary. Based on what he saw of Foyrilmang’s attendants, that was about the level of experience he expected, so it should be an easy fight.

  The lack of eyes on the inside was upsetting. Without being able to listen in on what was being discussed, they’d have to fall back on brute force and treat it as a raid, then figure out the nature of the meeting once they had everyone in custody. They had enough evidence already to justify it, but it still meant a fight was almost certain.

  “Alright everyone,” he said in a hushed tone, calling them to gather around. “We’ll enter through the main entrance to flush them out. I want three people watching each exit to catch anyone who tries to run. From there it’ll be a standard sweep. Restrain as many as possible, but don’t hold back if they try to fight. The only necessary captures are the Lords. Understood?”

  “Aye, Sir!” The crowd let out a single quiet retort and set into motion.

  In minutes, they were in position at the bay doors. As one, they dropped the cloaks hiding their armor. The few people in the streets around them took notice of what was happening and cleared out. Even if the warehouse had someone on the lookout, they moved quickly enough to not give them time to mount a defense.

  Akil kicked one of the large bay doors and bellowed, “In the name of Voice Engteng, you are under arrest for suspected conspiracy against Hangkiti! Surrender yourself peacefully if you are innocent and no harm will come to you!”

  His voice echoed through the halls of the warehouse, but they were met with silence. No shouts, calls to action, no weapons being drawn. A pit formed in his stomach. Something was wrong, but they had to move or risk losing any benefit from the element of surprise.

  The Honors fanned out, sweeping through the building with Akil taking point. While the others to cleared out the rooms and hallways around the edges of the building, he charged straight toward the central storage.

  “Clear! Clear! Clear!” Calls rang out through the building, confirming that no one was there. The pit was rapidly growing into a boulder.

  The central storage room was a massive open chamber piled high with rows of crates. Working his way meticulously down the line, he cleared every single aisle but found absolutely nobody. He knew that the building was empty before he even reached the halfway point but had to be thorough.

  Just as he had that thought, he finally found something – a trail of blood. Streaks of fresh crimson smeared across the ground like something had been dragged through them. It started in the center of the room and disappeared down one of the aisles.

  He signaled the Honors with him to fan out and enter the aisle from both sides on his signal. As soon as they were in position, he stepped around the corner and froze.

  Strung on chains between the shelves were seven bodies, stripped naked and gutted. Viscera littered the ground beneath them and blood still dripped from their feet. Carved into the chest of each body was a crude icon. It would have been difficult to make out if it hadn’t been burned into the mind of every single Honor ever trained: a hammer superimposed on the image of a gleaming sun.

  “Phakfi…” Akil heard an Honor mutter just behind him.

  The mark of a dead empire. When Heaven’s Emperor Awiye marched on Hangkiti 700 years ago, he fought under that banner. Others had attempted to take up his mantle since, but the last prospective conqueror had been killed five years ago. Akil knew that for certain.

  Kiwokiti – the current name for the various lands once unified in Phakfi – were scattered, bickering nuisances. They spent their time at each other’s throats, trying to claw their way above the rest to reclaim the title. There was no way they had organized enough to launch an attack on Lavote without anyone noticing.

  Akil wracked his mind to find meaning in what they were looking at. He had nowhere near enough information to put the whole picture together but did make one realization as the scout’s words came back to him.

  One of ‘em. Got about six other people keeping an eye out.

  Seven scouts and seven bodies stripped of their uniforms. They weren’t the ones setting the ambush… they were prey.

  His realization came a moment too late as he heard the sounds of clashing steel echo from outside the building. At the same time, the skylights crashed in with a rush of heat as a stream of fire poured into the huge chamber.

  “It’s a trap! We have to fight our way out,” Akil shouted, sweeping his cape over his head and dodging as much flame and debris as possible. Every Honor in the building heard him and started charging back toward the front entrance.

  He had no clue what the enemy’s plan was, but staying inside was a death sentence. It was easy to assume they had the warehouse surrounded and were watching the entrances – just like they had planned to do – so they needed to find a way to punch through. From there, they could retreat and send word for reinforcements.

  The side doors would be no good. They’d just be charging into a choke point. Even if the enemy had more people watching it, the bay doors were their best bet to avoid taking too many losses. Even without Akil explaining that, the other Honors understood.

  Because Akil was leading the sweep, he was the farthest from the entrance and the last to arrive. By the time he stepped back into the antechamber, the others had already taken up their positions beside the closed bay doors, ready for the charge. A group of about five Honors formed a shield wall at the front while everyone else rallied behind them.

  As soon as they had eyes on Akil bringing up the rear, they moved. Pushing open the door, they braced to charge into battle, but the fight was over before it even started.

  They had braced for arrows, but not for anything more volatile. From the rear, Akil saw it happen in slow motion. Three small glass vials filled with sparking embers flew over their heads and shattered against the ceiling just above the shield wall. Akil had heard stories of experimental explosive artifacts a warlord in Phakfi had developed a few decades ago, but he also heard that the research on them had been destroyed.

  They exploded with a sharp crack, blinding him for a moment. Roaring fire and crumbling stone erupted as Akil was thrown backward. By the time he had blinked away the shock and gotten back to his feet, the entrance had collapsed inward. Of the nearly twenty men who had stood before him, twelve were buried or pinned by the mountain of rubble blocking the way forward. The rest were stunned, struggling to regain their composure.

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  With the heat of the flames on his back and the collapsed door in front of him, his vision started to blur. There was an intentionality to everything happening around him. It wasn’t some random, disorganized attack, but how far ahead did they plan?

  An arrow whizzed past, clipping his ear. A volley had just been blind-fired over the rubble. Most missed, but a couple found purchase in the remaining Honors. The big picture didn’t matter. His primary goal was the same as always: protect Lovu. He couldn’t do that from the warehouse, so he needed to get out and the front door wasn’t an option anymore.

  “On me!” he called out, rallying the remaining Honors as he charged back into the burning storage room. He had to assume the Honors they left watching the side doors were ambushed and either they managed to fend off their attackers or died trying. Regardless of the outcome, that was their best option left.

  Covering his mouth and staying as low as possible, he weaved between freshly fallen shelves. Only once he reached the door did he turn around to find that only five Honors were still with him. He had no clue what happened to the others and didn’t stop to ponder. Readying his shield, he stepped to the side of the door and signaled the rest to do the same.

  A second later, he signaled the Honor that arrived just after him to kick open the door. She was young, only a couple of years older than Akil and the crest on her cape belonged to Lord Amra, a minor Lord from a poor fiefdom. Akil recognized her from Fitmi’s retinue and knew that her family had to pull major favors to earn a position in service of the first princess. She wasn’t in a position to refuse the order.

  Their eyes locked and Akil could see the realization set in on her face. She grit her teeth, brought up her shield, and drove her heel into the door.

  A split second later, a hail of arrows peppered her body. She managed to block enough with her shield and armor not to die outright, but a handful stuck out of the gaps at her joints. She took one staggered step backward before Akil caught her and rushed out of the door.

  Twenty people stood in a semicircle around the door wearing shoddy armor befitting Scars. As soon as the Honors emerged from the smoke, they dropped the bows completely and drew melee weapons – a mix of swords and spears. Once Akil had vision of the situation, he dropped the Amra Honor and drew his own.

  All he needed was a single opening and he quickly found it. One of the Scars was about Akil’s age, but clearly without the experience to back it up. His sword’s handguard caught briefly on his armor as he tried to draw. Flustered, he fumbled to correct the problem and did manage to pull it out, but not before Akil was on top of him.

  In a single blow, his head was separated from his body. The Scars on either side of their decapitated ally attempted to swing on Akil. He deflected the first with his shield but wasn’t able to bring his sword around to catch the other in time. Steel dug into the flesh as the blade found the gap under his breasplate.

  The Scar that hit him looked just as surprised as Akil did. Judging from his stance, Akil could tell he was nowhere near as skilled as any Honor in their unit. It hadn’t been an intentional move, but that didn’t matter. Real combat always involved small strokes of luck, no matter how skilled the fighters. However, that inexperience stopped him from being able to make a follow up strike and Akil had no plan on giving him a chance to get lucky again. He darted through the hole in their line, ignoring the pain entirely as he sprinted into the night.

  Following his lead, the Honors behind him dove toward the opening. The first two took advantage of the surprise and attacked the Scars focused on Akil as they cut their own way out of the ring. From the sound of combat fading behind him, Akil knew they were the only ones to make it through.

  Without knowing when the scouts were compromised, Akil had no clue how accurate any of the information they had received was. He didn’t know the enemy’s number or goals, so they had to regroup in the Residence as soon as possible. Shortly after escaping the warehouse, they heard the footfalls of others pursuing them.

  The streets around the warehouse were empty, so they did their best to lose their tail by dipping through alleys and creating distractions whenever possible by toppling things in their path. As they got farther away they started to see people meandering around again. Most of them looked like normal merchants and commoners, but given how far ahead the invaders had planned, Akil didn’t want to risk stopping. The crowd parted around them, leaving a clear path where they passed.

  Honors had barracks all throughout the city where they gathered to patrol and monitor their districts, so he set his course for the closest one in the Merhcants’ Quarter’s central plaza. If they could just increase their numbers, they’d be able to turn the tides. As they charged into the plaza, a group of low born Honors stepped out of the barracks, presumably having heard the commotion.

  “I am Akil Vor, personal guard to Prince Lovu,” he shouted as he ran toward the highest-ranking Honor on duty. He was a portly man wearing metal armor significantly better than the rest of his companions, but still notably less ornate than his. “A merchant smuggled mercenaries from Kiwokiti into the harbor. They are on our tale, sound the alarm!”

  The portly Honor’s eyes went wide as he barked orders at his men. One went to ring an alarm bell to notify the other nearby barracks and the commoners filling the square scattered. As soon as Akil reached the door, he took the chance to lean against the wall and catch his breath. Not a moment later, he saw the horde of Scars step into sight.

  Rocking back to his feet, he readied his shield and brought his sword to bear, but they didn’t move any closer. For a moment, the two forces faced off as the sea of panicked bystanders cleared out.

  But he only realized he was focused on the wrong threat when he heard a pained gasp to his side. Looking left, he saw one of the Honors who had escaped the warehouse with him clutching his throat and gulping for air as blood gushed through his fingers.

  One of the nameless faces from the crowd stood behind the Honor holding a long, delicate blade now dripping with blood. At first glance he appeared to be a merchant, but his clothing was too fine to fit his worn face. All of a sudden, members of the fleeing crowd stopped and turned toward them. The majority were still running, but the numbers were no longer as favorable as Akil had hoped.

  “So, you’re the Guillotine?” the fake merchant said, turning to face him. His mouth twisted into a wicked, toothy grin. “Lucky me. I never expected to be the one claiming the bounty.”

  Bounty?

  Unfortunately, Akil couldn’t spare the time to ponder the implications of that. The fake merchant opened his mouth to say something else, but Akil struck in a flash, severing the man’s head before another word left his mouth.

  He never cared for people who tried to talk during a fight and rarely gave them the chance to make that mistake again. The battle was far from over, but taking one person out before blades started clashing was always ideal.

  However, that single act signaled the melee to begin. The square became a battlefield as Honor and Scar clashed. While the low born Honors charged forward out of the barracks, Akil did his best to skirt around the edge of the fight. After the fake merchant’s declaration, it felt like everybody kept one eye locked on him at all times. He kept moving, looking for a chance to break from the fight and keep moving toward the Residence, but the horde followed him with every step.

  Any time a slight opening presented itself, a Scar would throw themselves at him. Most were cut down before they reached him and he was able to outmatch the ones who made it all the way, but fatigue was steadily catching up to him. There was still a lot of ground to cover between him and Lovu, so he needed to make his exit quickly.

  The sky lit up as a pillar of fire shot up above the rooftops in the distance. A moment later, the earth shook beneath his feet. Whatever had just happened was far enough away to not pose the people in the square any threat, but every eye drifted up toward it.

  Akil used the opening it presented, scanning the crowd for the closest Scar wearing a cloak with a hood. The Scar barely realized what was happening. Before his body even hit the ground, Akil caught the cloak and whipped it off of the corpse.

  The rest of the combatants returned their full attention to the fight, but Akil had already donned the bloodstained cloak and become another anonymous figure in the crowd. A few people managed to keep track of him, but he made short work of them as he danced back to the edges of the square and ducked into an alley at the first opportunity.

  He expected the sounds of fighting to fall away behind him again, but they only grew louder as he approached the Residence. Alarm bells were ringing out at Honor stations across the city. It steadily became obvious that this wasn’t a one-off attack, but a full-blown invasion.

  Worst of all, the Residence had been breached.

  When he finally reached the southern gate, he found a scorched ruin. The pillar of flame from before left nothing behind but stone stained black by soot and the husks of charred bodies, most baked alive inside of their Honor armor. Nobody stood guarding the gaping hole in the wall, but he also didn’t see any invaders. They must have already moved inside, so Akil ran to catch up. His first thought was going straight for the villa, but he had to assume Lovu had already fled.

  Until tonight, Akil thought the Residence was practically impenetrable. He had left enough Honors to defend Lovu against small scale threats like assassinations but diverted the rest to dealing with the threats in the city.

  Itkilmo and Wangom are competent enough. They should know they are unequipped for anything past that and move him to the Palace. The only problem is if they run into trouble before they get there…

  With that in mind, Akil aimed to for the midpoint between his villa and the Palace. He scanned every building as he ran, looking for threats. Each villa was either on alert, empty, or giving the illusion of being empty. No one was in the street, but it was impossible to tell how many people were watching him. He knew of the seven Lords he could confidently say were in on the conspiracy, but any number of other houses could be supporting them too, so he kept moving low and fast.

  As he neared the Palace, he began to wonder whether he would run into anyone at all. Then, just like the gate before, he saw a pillar of flame erupt at the Palace’s front door. This time, he was close enough to feel the heat blast his face. The stunning sight of watching a centuries old monument to Hangkiti’s invincibility burn would have been enough to lock him in place if he didn’t hear a familiar voice shout from the next street over.

  “L-lord Foyrilmang, w-what is the meaning of this?” Lovu cried, his normal confidence and joy smothered in panic.

  Akil’s vision went red and his feet moved on their own. He cleared the distance between them in an instant. Two soldiers fell without much of a fight and he quickly knocked Lord Foyrilmang out with one of their heads. Battle came to him as second nature, so he barely thought about what he was doing as he neutralized the threats. He took a step forward to deal a killing blow to the unconscious Lord, until he saw Lovu staring up at him.

  His lover was covered in the blood and had tears welling up in his eyes. Looking down at his own body, Akil felt the warm coating of blood from the earlier fights. As he felt the searing pain of the wound in his side, he realized just how much of it was his own.

  How does he see me? I must look like a monster.

  The fear in Lovu’s eyes hurt worse than any wound. Taking a breath to steady himself, Akil pulled the cloak tight to hide his wounds and gently extended his hand with a reassuring smile.

  “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”