Lovu

  “W-where will we go?” Lovu asked, struggling to hold himself together as Akil pulled him to his feet. The flames engulfing the Palace cast sharp flickering shadows across them.

  “I have an idea,” Akil said, wiping the blood from his sword on the inside of his cloak before taking Lovu by the hand. “I would never suggest it under any other circumstance, but…”

  “Will it get us out of the Residence?” Lovu asked, hope reigniting in his chest. He didn’t care about anything else, so long as they managed to get out together. “If we could make it to an Honor barracks in the city, they’ll-”

  “We need to go farther than that,” Akil said, leading Lovu away from the Palace. “Nowhere in Lavote is safe. We have to get out of the city and to my family.”

  The Vor family controlled the territory directly south-west of the capital. Their estate was a three-day carriage ride away, but it would take even longer on foot. Lovu looked down at the faint blood trail Akil was leaving as they moved. “You need rest! We can’t make that trip in your state.”

  “I’ll rest once you’re safe,” Akil said, pulling his cloak tighter. “It can wait until we’re on the Highway.”

  Lovu planted his heels and stopped moving. “I don’t want you hurting yourself for my sake and you’re losing a lot of blood. Let’s stop at a villa and patch you up. I’ve seen people looking out from the-”

  “Honey,” Akil said, pulling Lovu into a tight embrace. “We can’t. Lords are helping the attackers, and I don’t know who we can trust. Every second we spend here risks us both getting hurt far more than we already are. We have to keep moving. Please.”

  For the first time Lovu could remember, Akil was begging him. He had only ever maintained a cool, collected fa?ade, even when Lovu knew it wasn’t real. “O-okay…” he stammered, letting Akil guide him. “C-can I at least pray for you?”

  “You should conserve your energy. We’ll need to keep going for a while.”

  “All the more reason to heal what I can. Please?”

  Akil stared straight ahead, not giving Lovu a single backwards glance. “Keep it quiet.”

  A weight lifted from his heart as Lovu began to pray. Fam’e was a kind goddess who offered aid to those in need. As part of his Advocate training, Lovu had learned prayers to request healing, cure diseases, and even offer protection from harm. Usually, they were used alongside rituals to increase their strength, but those required extensive preparation and materials. Several of the Wounds ringing his head were earned by performing healing rituals, so he had them memorized by heart, but had never used them in such dire circumstances.

  “Fam’e, Matron of my flame and devotion, hear my words and offer your hand,” Lovu closed his eyes as he ran, trusting Akil pull him along as he whispered under his breath. He had to speak loudly enough for Akil to hear him, but did his best to not rise any higher than that. “Your servant Akil Vor bleeds in your name, having given his body for your peace. I beg you, let his wounds become mine and on your path be absolved.”

  As soon as he finished the prayer, his left side burned, matching Akil’s wound. The full ritual would have completely transferred the wound to Lovu, where it would rapidly fade. In the past, his family had forbidden him from healing anything beyond minor cuts and bruises and they were unpleasant, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He expected such a serious wound to hurt more, but that wasn’t enough to prepare him for the blinding pain.

  The worst pain Lovu had ever experienced was only a fraction of what Akil was feeling, but his bodyguard was walking around as if it were nothing. Again, Lovu felt compelled to stop him from pushing himself, but bit his tongue. If Akil was willing to push through it, that meant they truly had no time to spare.

  “Fam’e, Matron of my flame and devotion…” Slowing their progress wouldn’t help at all, so he did the only thing he could – he kept praying. As soon as the pain faded enough for him to start taking on more, he did.

  “That’s enough,” Akil said, stopping him after the fourth prayer, but Lovu knew he was still far from healed.

  “I can keep-”

  “No. Conserve your strength. Things are about to get tricky,” he said, kneeling as they approached an intersection and pulling Lovu down with him.

  They made it to the edge of the Residence, near the western wall. The southern gate was the primary entrance and there were smaller gates on the north and east walls, but there was no way in or out to the east as far as Lovu knew. He was about to ask where they were going when nearby voices silenced him.

  “The Palace burning is our signal, right?” someone asked from around the corner. It was vaguely familiar, but Lovu couldn’t put a face to it, which meant they were likely a Lord or someone in their retinue. He probably interacted with them briefly during a ritual or feast, which made his skin crawl.

  “It is…” another vaguely familiar voice answered. “I’d hoped to find the prize pig before the rumble, but I guess we’ll just have to hope we flush him out. We can still catch him in the chaos.”

  Prize pig?

  That phrase made Lovu think back to what Lord Foyrilmang said before: “You’re not exactly who I was looking for, but you’re the second-best prize I could hope to find.”

  If I’m the second-best prize, does that mean… are they looking for Father? But if that was the case, surely I wouldn’t be second-best. They’d be looking for Fitmi second… unless it’s because I’m the next High Advocate?

  Flames erupted just behind the wall between them and the voices – the outer wall of Villa Owar. It was smaller than the explosions at the Palace and southern gate but was still enough to blow a huge chunk out of a building. Villa Owar’s inhabitants called out as they either burned or rallied for battle. Trying to understand off of sound alone was terrifying, but he quietly thanked Fam’e that he didn’t have to see it.

  “Lovu?” Akil whispered, his voice masked by the violence nearby. “We’re going to have to run. There is an entrance to the Residence sewers just up ahead, against the outer wall.” As he spoke, he took off the bloodied cloak and fixed it around Lovu’s neck. “It’s a heavy metal plate covering a ladder that will take you down to one of the main tunnels. Follow it away from the Residence and it’s a straight shot to the edge of the city. Before you leave the tunnel, make sure your clothes and Wounds are covered and don’t talk to anyone. From there… just make your way west on the Vor Highway until you reach the estate. Keep your head down, don’t stop moving, and I’ll find you as soon as I can.”

  “I’m not going without you,” Lovu said, gripping his hands.

  “Ideally, you won’t have to,” Akil said, pressing his forehead against Lovu’s. “I’ll open the hatch, but if any of them try to follow, I’ll distract them while you escape.”

  “You want me to leave you to die?! No, I-”

  “I’m the last person you need to worry about right now. I hate to say it, but if we stick together, you’ll only slow me down. Alone, I’ll be able to fight them off and make it to one of the other sewer entrances. I can’t do that if I have to move at your pace and protect you at the same time.”

  Akil wore the same, reassuring smile as always, but Lovu could see the cracks forming. “But… you’re hurt…”

  “I’ve gotten worse in training and you’ve already healed me,” he said, turning the injured side away from Lovu. “I’ll be fine. Now, we need to go. The longer we wait here, the more likely-”

  He was interrupted by another explosion erupting from a different nearby villa. It was far enough away that Lovu had no clue who’s it could have been, but close enough to prove his point. Akil snapped his head back around to look around the corner. After a second of waiting, he grabbed Lovu’s hand and started to move.

  “Run!”

  As he rounded the corner, Lovu looked to see the people attacking the Owar villa and recognized two faces: Lord Lehwa Ngefwi and his son Yuvwulop. The current Lord was an older man just beginning to reach the end of his prime while his son was just reaching his late twenties. He knew their faces but had only ever been close enough to hear them speak a handful of times. Feasts were regularly hosted around Council sessions where the Lords could gather and socialize, but those two in particular had always been seated very far from Lovu and his family. He couldn’t even begin to guess why they were attacking their fellow Lords.

  The pair was so focused on the people they had bound and kneeling before them that they didn’t notice their mad dash at all. At the front of their prisoners was Lakvip Owar – the daughter of Lord Owar and current steward of their villa. Lovu knew her well. She was due to marry one of Akil’s cousins in a couple of months and had asked Lovu to officiate the marriage even before he was declared the next High Advocate. They regularly had tea together and he had been helping her organize the event.

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  As Lovu crossed the street, he saw Lord Ngefwi raise a sword high above his head, looking down at Lakvip. Lovu rounded the corner before the strike landed, but the sickening thud of metal on flesh cut through all the other noise.

  His stomach turned as Lovu focused on the sound of his feet hitting stone. Putting everything else out of his mind, they reached the sewer without issue. It was a square plate about the size of a small table. Akil wasted no time running his fingers along the edge until he found a ridge to grip. Even with how strong he was, Lovu saw him strain to lift the plate enough for Lovu to squeeze through. At the same time, the rancid stench slapped Lovu in the face. Fighting to hold back his lunch, he dropped down into the hole.

  “Holy shit!” Yuvwulop’s voice called out from the street above. “Speak ill of Kumam and her ire will be delivered unto you.”

  Lovu made it a few feet down the ladder, just enough space for Akil to follow, when the voice came. He looked up to urge Akil to follow but was met with the metal cover slamming shut in his face, casting him into darkness. The bang of the metal echoed through the tunnel, deafening and disorienting him enough that he almost fell from the ladder.

  As soon as he regained his composure, he tried to push the lid open himself. It didn’t move an inch, and he heard shouts fading into the distance, presumably as Akil led his pursuers away.

  “No. No no no no no,” he muttered, clutching the ladder, wishing it had the warmth to hold him back.

  For the first time that night, he was still enough for the severity of the situation to fully set in. Countless friends and family were dead or dying above his head, but there was no way to know who had escaped the violence and no way to help. At any point, he could be next. Worst of all, he was utterly alone in the dark.

  His breath caught in his chest as he knew he couldn’t stay. He blindly fumbled his way down the ladder entirely by feeling. Without knowing how far down it was, each rung felt like it might as well be hanging miles in the air.

  When his feet finally touched solid earth, his arms involuntarily let go, dropping him in a heap as he fought to fill his lungs. Each gulp brought with it a barrage of new and utterly repulsive tastes. Ironically, that helped center him. They were absolutely wretched, but without them, he may have stayed there, curled up in a ball until he passed out.

  Keep your head down, don’t stop moving, and I’ll find you as soon as I can.

  He repeated Akil’s words in his head like a prayer as he fumbled for the rungs to orient himself. Tracing his hand against the wall, he moved down the tunnel, away from the Residence. Each step felt like it could send him plummeting into a void of darkness, but he never stopped.

  Without any frame of reference, time lost all meaning. Seconds dragged into minutes into hours. The tunnel occasionally dipped or meandered side to side, but it always moved downhill. Akil said that the tunnel would open up near the edge of the city, but Lovu had no clue how that was possible. The Residence was built atop the highest point along the ridge of the crater that Lavote was built around, but he climbed down dozens of feet on the ladder and only continued to descend. Surely he was already deep below even the lowest points of the city.

  The possibility of never seeing the sun again started to set in.

  “Fam’e, Matron of my flame and devotion, hear my words and offer your hand,” he prayed, looking for any scrap of hope left to him. “Your servant Lovu Yelma has been cast into darkness and lost your path. He is but a child in your wisdom and seeks the peace of your embrace. Offer your guidance and help him find grace.”

  In his panic, he fell back on Hikim’s Plea. Unlike the prayers used alongside rituals, it only really offered comfort. It was said that if your faith was strong and your need dire enough, she would answer by sending you a sign. It was one of the first prayers Advocates learned and Lovu had recited it thousands of times, but only to remind himself of her presence. This was his first time he truly needed her help.

  He repeated the prayer over and over again, barely whispering for fear of anyone but her hearing. While he did, he focused on the image of embracing Akil again, safely in his family home. In time, the darkness lost its chill. He began to see and feel Fam’e in the unknown, instead of the anxiety of imagined threats.

  Finally, he saw the gentle crown of light ahead. It was faint, just a flicker of moonlight refracting off of the… fluid flowing past him, but it was undeniable. The tunnel made a harsh right turn directly ahead of him where he could hear the sloppy drip of sewage falling.

  With the end in sight, his steps quickened until he was sprinting toward fresh air. Less than ten feet past the corner, there was a grate of iron bars spread just far enough apart for him to squeeze through. Throwing his body against them, he shoved his head through to swallow as much clean air as possible.

  There was a small lip just inches wide on the other side of the bars. Once the widest part of his body was through the bars, the force he used to get through was enough to send him staggering forward. With nowhere to put his feet, he tumbled head first over the edge, landing with a splat.

  He managed to close his mouth just in time to hit the pool of filth beneath him but was still covered head to toe in the sludge. Wiping it from his eyes as he held back gags, he looked for the nearest escape from the sensory onslaught. He was in a wide trench that started at the tunnel’s outlet and continued flowing into the distance. Stone ledges lined the sides of the river creating narrow walkways.

  Staggering to the edge of the pit, he pulled himself out where the sickening urge he had felt since this all started finally pushed too far to repress. Emptying his stomach onto the ground, he panted and gagged until there was nothing left to come up. Once he was done, he fell to the side, looking up at the starry sky above him. He could faintly hear people moving and shouting nearby above the walls of the trench, but it sounded more like the bustle of the Merchants’ Quarter than battle.

  Did… did I escape?

  “If you’re gonna make a mess, at least do it in the fertilizer,” a voice said from nearby. He snapped his head towards it to find a ragged woman standing on the ledge not even ten feet from him, tucked into the shadows of the wall behind her. “People walk up here.”

  “O-oh, pardon me,” he said through a hoarse voice, quickly pulling himself to his feet. Looking down at the pile of vomit at his feet, he carefully used his foot to push it into the river of sewage, touching it as little as possible. Once as much of it was scraped away as possible, he looked back to the woman. “Is that better?”

  Instead of answering, she just leveled a cold gaze at him. A faded green scarf covered the lower half of her face, emphasizing every careful flick of her eyes. They scanned him up and down as he felt them probing for something. The parts of her face he could see didn’t look much older than him, but he could see the ragged edges of scars poking out from beneath the cloth.

  Even though he had never seen one before, Lovu immediately knew she was a Scar – violent criminals who fought without Yol’s blessing. People who never went through Honor training to learn restraint but wielded weapons anyway.

  Keep your head down, don’t stop moving, and I’ll find you as soon as I can.

  Suddenly, the feeling that he had made a grave mistake washed over Lovu. He straightened up and put on as polite a smile as possible.

  “I’m sorry for causing a mess,” he said, bowing slightly. “I will be careful not to make that mistake again. You have a wonderful night.”

  He turned on his heels, pulling up the hood of the cloak as he did, only to feel the cold slap of the sewage run down his face. Despite thinking his stomach had nothing left, he dropped to his knees again and let out one more retch. Once he was finished, he scraped as much of the sludge from his face as possible and rose to his feet, sheepishly looking over his shoulder to see the woman still coldly glaring at him.

  “Ah… my bad,” he said, going through the motions of scraping his new mess away. The entire time, her eyes never left his back. Cold sweat ran down his back, but the longer she stared, the more his fear faded. He had heard countless horror stories about Scars and their propensity for violence. From the stories Akil and his other Honors told him, they picked fights for no reason other than fun and felt no grief over cutting down innocents.

  The woman before him had not only not attacked him on sight, she even scolded him for making a mess. She cared enough about the other people who travelled the area – no matter how few would willingly visit a sewage river – enough to keep it clean.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be a Scar, would you?” he asked cautiously, immediately regretting it as she bristled.

  “Maybe I am. What does it matter?” she growled, stepping out of the shadow.

  Lovu instinctively took a step back, his mouth going dry. Despite the abject terror in his heart – or perhaps because of it – he said a quick prayer to Fam’e in his mind. As he did, he recalled his conversation with Akil from earlier that day.

  “In Fam’e’s gaze does the brightest seed of every heart come to fruit and on her path, every adherent carries her in their soul. If her servant does open their heart to her faltered children, they will flower and be drawn to the path anew.” If someone did wish me harm, it’s my duty as an Advocate to welcome them with a kind heart and guide them back onto her path, not hide away.

  He had said it with so much confidence back then. After everything he had seen since, doubt crept into the corners of his heart, but he forced it away. Fam’e had never steered him wrong before and he refused to question her teachings when he needed her most.

  “My apologies if I caused offense, I have simply never met a Scar before,” he said, smiling as kindly as possible. “I am quite lost and could use some directions. Do you know how to reach the Vor Highway?”

  “The Highway?” she asked, her eyes squinting in confusion again.

  “Yes ma’am, I plan on meeting a friend there. Do you know the way?”

  She scowled, still searching for something in him. After a moment, she let out a heavy sigh. “Fuck it,” she said, walking past him. “Follow me.”

  Lovu felt the crushing weight on his chest finally lift as his forced smile became the genuine article.

  “Thank you so much! You have no clue how much this means to me,” he said, dashing to catch up with her. “My name is Lovu, what’s yours?”

  “No names,” she spat, without looking back.

  It certainly put a damper on his suddenly lightened mood, but he still felt immensely better than moments before. He continued to beam as she led him over to a staircase carved into the wall. Looking up, he could see the flickering light of flames and hear the quiet bustle of the living city beyond.

  He had only ever been outside of the Residence during the day. He had begged his family to let him see more of the city, but nearly every plea had been turned down. It was impossible for him to be happy at that moment, but in the midst of everything else, he kindled the excitement brewing in his heart, clinging to any warmth he could.

  “Keep your hood up,” the woman said, stopping at the base of the stairs. “Don’t want anyone else recognizing who you are.”

  “It is quite filthy. Are you sure?” he asked, remembering the slimy feeling from before.

  “All the better,” she said, yanking it over his head. A shiver ran down his spine as the cold, damp fabric slapped his forehead. “And don’t say shit either. People’ll immediately know you don’t belong.”

  Lovu opened his mouth to answer, before deciding it was better to silently nod.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Following her lead, Lovu stepped up into the slums of Lavote for the first time.