Qalb Shuja' Malyan

  Shuja' walked beside a woman that looked like her betrothed, but there was something about her that was wrong. Everything in her warned her not to trust her and because of that she was not letting her near Phal. But where to take her? She told the woman that Phal was training and he usually used the one on the top floor training area; which was true.

  She needed a way to deal with the woman that stinks of death and revenge.

  They were almost to the training room, when they bumped into the guardian commander. He was dressed as though he had come from the training room. Bare chest, broad shoulders, narrow waist and muscles that likely adopted muscles. His mane was beautiful in its wild state; the rust and gold bleeding through in a brilliant colour pattern. He took one look at them both and in the old tongue asked her why the woman was not in the holding cell she had been in.

  Shuja' wanted a way to deal with the woman without harm to Phal. She quickly told him the woman stormed into the cafeteria and threaten to hurt people if she was not shown to Phal. Now she was trying to find a place to dispose of the trash.

  The guardian nodded once. “Phal is not in the training room. I just came from there. Did you check the meditation room?”

  Shuja' shook her head. “We have not. Shall we check the meditation room?”

  “You expect me to believe that you are taking me to my cousin?” the woman sneered and the poloum seemed to writhe at her words. “I was hoping for somewhere quiet so I could find out what he has been up to then leave you, just barely alive,” the woman licked her lips in delight.

  The guardian rumbled a laugh. “I think you will discover that you overplayed your hand and under estimated your opponent.”

  “At his core my cousin is a coward. There is not even enough to put a wager on.”

  The guardian rumbled. At first, Shuja' thought he was readying an attack, but than he attempted to speak and breath through what she now believed was a laugh.

  “Come let us wager on who will win.”

  “You have nothing I want.”

  “I own treasures that in one hand is able to end wars and on the other be the cause,” the guardian crossed his beefy arms across an equally on display chest.

  “Fine. What do want if you win?”

  “You will surrender to a slave contract.”

  “Come again?”

  The guardian grinned maniacally. “If I am offering a world ending artifact then the exchange must be equal. So, if you lose you agree to a slave contract…for life.”

  Shuja' was able to see the struggle on the woman’s face. She was greedy enough to contemplate the possibility of not winning. She was not created to be in a cage. She was not certain what she might do if it protected Phal.

  “Sean!” roared and angry voice from somewhere down the hall.

  She knew that voice. It was the reason she was as close to that woman as she was. How was she supposed to protect him when the guardian was betting on Phal being strong enough to beat her. She started towards Phal when a blade found her throat.

  “I accept the wager on one condition: she becomes a slave if I lose.”

  Shuja' saw the world close in on her, felt her mouth go dry. Her? A slave? What of Phal? There had to be another way. “No.”

  Sean sneered as she cackled. “Then no deal muscle man.”

  The guardian shrugged once and turned his back on her. Sean said nothing. One minute she was next to Shuja' and the next she was aiming to kill the guardian. Without effort, he batted the blade off course and caught Sean; her arm in an iron grip. Shuja' watched her fight like a wild thing only heard in the dark.

  Shuja' was no match for either warrior. She hoped Phal was not going to be angry for not taking deal. It might have been his key to freedom. Phal burst from within a small crowd of warriors; tearing up the space between them.

  To the lioness’ delight, he ran past both the guardian and his cousin. He instantly pulled his poloum over his shoulder and she watched the ends untangle and wrapped around her wrist and forearm. His face a mirror of worry.

  “She wants to kill you,” she whispered.

  Phal sighed. “I had hoped to one day gain the prestige of my parents’ house,” he looked out into the vastness of the abyss they swam through. Now,” he touched her cheek. “All I want is you by my side.”

  Phal

  It was easy to understand that neither of them was able to comprehend the vast ocean that love encompassed. Just as it was easy to express the words, it was simple to show that feeling. He wanted to be the man she needed him to be. That path started by dealing with Sean. She was not allowed to harm anyone else.

  Turning he looked at the woman that was hissing and biting like a rabid animal. Something about her made him uncomfortable. Now, for the first time he was seeing his cousin’s true self. It was amazing she managed to appear sane, because there was nothing left but madness. If he was honest, there was no pity left either.

  “Sean, you’ve tormented people for the last time.”

  Sean laughed. It was a horrid sound like the wail of a banshee. She cackle until she was gasping for air. “The mama’s boy found a backbone and thinks he is better than the world,” she threw her arm wide and arched her spine into a C-curve. “I still remember the day of my hunt; feel it course through me. Now I will add you to the alter of death.”

  In one smooth move he caught the charua

  tossed to him. The handle was made with the only stone that had a gentle give that matched the flex needed for staffs and bladed staffs. Over the stone was a lattice of adamantine woven into delicate filagree. The tips were covered in the thick shoulder joint of a tri-horned lizard. It was often used when forging clubs and other blunt weapons. The blade was locked in place by a mixture of stone nature, gravity and the welling power within it.

  Whoever made the charua had skill that surpass this age. He was able to move the blade from one end to the other with a thought. It was an artifact that was going to grow with him. Alpha Bailey believed he was going to unlock new skills as he proved he was ready; worthy of the responsibility and he believed her.

  He stepped lightly in his leather boots. The pants were a rare class of silk that came with an armor rating equal to some breeds of dragon. They were loose enough to allow a full range of mobility, but fitted enough to not catch on anything. The shirt was a cotton bamboo blend; fitted as though it was made for him. Over the shirt was drake hide with metal sewn in to cover vital areas.

  The blade Shuja' had given him was strapped to his right thigh, staff in hand and face set in determination.

  The guardian released Sean and she launched across the space. He took his stance and let her come. He stopped looking at her as a person he knew and she became a target to be halted. First, he had to know how she flowed. To start, it was as though he flowed through the steps. Sean was unable to touch him. Then she was faster.

  Hubris reminded him that he was still new to this, but the staff demanded faith. Faith that he was able, that he was worthy. He needed hubris to remind him there were those with greater skill, but what he really needed was to trust that he understood what he had been taught.

  Phal instinctually pulled his aura in, locked it down. The reaction was instantaneous. Sean was no longer able to gauge the distance between them. it was like he only half existed. That was fine by him. He made use of the time it had given him. Each arc of the charua was like the telling of a story; one he hoped might bring peace to his parents.

  Sean was not taking the beating well; each strike drove her back or down to the ground. She was still to quick and escaped before she was pinned down. Her shrieks of rage filled the air as she was halted from striking him. As they rotated, she hurled insults as quick as you please, many often stung with the weight of his inaction.

  “The greatest hunt will always be my first. I passed that day because I knew my prey,” her eyes flickered with hatred and malice as she spun a short blade in one hand and targeted his torso with the other.

  It was obvious she wanted to throw the blade and he wondered how he was going to use that to his advantage. He knew the terminology he wanted was a feint, but had not figured out how to use them without giving away their nature.

  “Your mother died first,” she gleefully explained. “The look on her face when she thought that you had followed them into the forest only to be trapped in the den with a beast…” she shivered. “Was only beat by the look when she realized it was all a lie and there was nothing she was able to do to stop me.”

  Phal thought he had been prepared for anything. Yet, those words caused him to stumble. Instinct told him to prolong the stumble by a fraction of a second, which seemed interminably long, before recovering. He had had to keep his eyes on both the stumble and the instant she threw the blade.

  Just as the blade left her hand, his body twisted in the air, which allowed the blade to glide along the lines of his body, as though he had been doing so all his life. The move was one his mother had promised to teach him the night before her last hunt. He had spent hours pleading to learn that one move, because it was unique to her and learning was a good way for others to recognize his mother’s house.

  Now she had only one blade he was aware of and he knew the truth. A truth he had suspected, but not had the courage to verify. How many others had she killed? No. He was not going down that road. It was not one that was going to end well for anyone. Who she had hurt was not his responsibility; that belonged to the people who were supposed to investigate each hunt. The only one accountable for her actions though was her.

  But the difference between knowing something and suspecting the thing were oceans apart in truth and hairs apart in feelings. Reality allowed the sting to burn as though Sean had cut him, but it was Shuja' rage that kept his head clear for Sean’s next attack.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Sean squatted low; moving to the side foot over foot. An action that cost her the fight. Legs already tangled, all he had to do was jab the end of the staff between her feet and brace. She went tumbling, all gangly limbs as she hit the ground. Phal was already bringing the blade about to end the fight when Sean rolled away into the crowd of onlookers.

  Phal cursed a he dodged the first person tossed at him. The sting of a blade across his cheek barely missed his eye on its way by. The people watching were not all warriors, but enough of them were to make shoving bodies at him a fruitless endeavor, but it did buy her time to get what she really wanted.

  In a struggle, Sean got the better of Shuja' and drove her forward, blade at her neck. Phal knew what was going to happen if he hesitated, so he trusted the blade he was wielding to do what he was told it was capable of and brought the blade around at chest height. Sean had done what he expected her to and at the last second he shifted the blade to the free end of the staff; effectively driving the air from Shuja' lungs.

  Sadly, for Sean there was no coming back from that. Even as she went to step over Shuja', believing her to be dying, Phal had kept the momentum of the bladed staff spinning around his body. Sean realized to late that she was not going to be able to dodge the incoming blade and attempted to go with it. She stumbled over Shuja', breaking her ankle, and went down like a fan girl in front of Legolas.

  This time when he reversed the blade and halted the staff, Sean had nowhere to go.

  Phal was not certain which stung more: his eyes, his heart or his lungs. What he was certain of was he had severed any link with what was left of his bloodline that day. Someone knew what Sean was and had done nothing. Rather than go down that rabbit hole it was better to let go. As soon as someone had Sean in hand, Phal was over to where Shuja' was trying to breath.

  Shuja' was wearing a shit eating grin as she had had the right angle to see the blade disappear and reappear in Sean’s throat. He breathed easier knowing his lioness was alright.

  A slight hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into amber eyes. They were warm with understanding and compassion, which only intensified the burning sensation. He closed his eyes and tried to breath.

  For a heartbeat he thought that he spotted his parents standing on the edge of the crowd; his mother’s arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked as his father rested an arm across her shoulders with his free hand on his blade. There were complex emotions on their faces, pride and love foremost. His mother started to say something when someone crossed his field of vision and they were gone.

  Letting his head loll back, Phal just worked to breath and let everything else go. There was plenty of time to grieve later where no one needed to see. A pair of arms wrapped around his neck, lightly, and caressed his poloum. Reaching out he felt the mane of his lioness and trusted her to guard his back. Tears fell silently as people moved around them.

  Micha

  Micha stepped back to give Phal a little privacy and found herself next to one very attractive Maahes. The leader of the guardians was grinning at her like it was his warrior that won the day. She rolled her eyes and watched as Sean was hauled away; her struggles token at best. She had been too shocked from the loss to grasp the truth of the situation.

  Instead of worrying over spilt milk, she turned to Malik with an impish smile and purred. “About that blood wine…”

  The laugh that roared out of Malik at the sudden topic caught many by surprise but not her. She knew enough about the hunter-warriors to know that the only people that might have wanted good liquor more were dwarves. Watching as Desohta intervened before anyone was aware of the over stimulated warrior’s tears. A quick needle jab and Phal was asleep in Shuja' arms.

  “What do you say we discuss it now?” Malik wondered.

  Micha’s grin widened. “Just what I was thinking. Since it does not exist here, we can tinker with the recipe until we are satisfied with a blend. Then we market what we don’t drink.”

  Malik pumped a fist. “It’s a good day when there is a good fight and alcohol; even if it’s never been made before.”

  “oo-oo, we can feed the replicator the recipe and get a synthetic version to try,” Micha snapped her fingers.

  “This day gets better. Will your fledgeling be alright? He seemed overstimulated at the end.”

  “Its that appendage that hangs from the head, the poloum. It picks up on everything around it; scents, emotions, everything. Add the discovery of what happened to his parents and it’s a recipe for crash and burn. Desohta shut him down quick enough that most wont notice and the few that did won’t care. So he keeps his warriors pride intact.”

  “Of course. It is important that he knows he is respected by his peers.”

  Micha shrugged. “Shuja' opinion was the only one that truly mattered. I think everyone thought Phal cut her down. There was a lot of surprised faces when she rolled over and there was no blood,” she bent over to retrieve the tossed blade; examining it like she had never seen a blade before. “Let’s stop for snacks cause the replicator is gonna be busy.”

  “Where do we meet? I need to change and I have some traditional war stew I can share.”

  Micha side eyed the warrior and thought she was fine with the way he was dressed, but kept her silence. There were rules about these things. With a nod, she told him where to find her and they split ways.

  Micha walked into her apartment and smiled at Desohta, who was slipping from Phal’s room. “Well,” she sighed. “That was not entirely unexpected. It cannot be allowed to happen again. Remind me to get Rennick to assess their training and see what can be done to improve their knowledge.”

  “I thought,” Desohta mused. “That you were going to be discussing wines with the commander.”

  “We are. Being half naked in a private room with me is a no-no. plus he’s bringing stew. I need the replicators ability to recreate a recipe. I need samples of edible plants with capsaicin in it,” she sauntered over to the replicator and input her code.

  She began the hunt for items that might work. There were surprising similarities between the two realities and some significant differences. That only enhanced the pleasures where foods were concerned.

  Desohta watched as Micha hummed a shanty while she selected what she was looking for. She selected a wide variety of fruits used to make red wine and more that were used for other dark liquors. She also laid out several vegetables; some he recognized as being hot to eat. Lastly, she started to lay out herbs and spices.

  She returned to the replicator and built a recipe based on closest similarities. Once the machine confirmed it was possible to replicate she ordered a batch made and aged for two, five and ten years.

  Then she poked her head in on Phal noted how protective Shuja' was and quietly closed the door. Waltzing into her room she made quick work of getting comfortable in cotton wide legged pants and a wrap and tie in the back shirt with long sleeves.

  Her return to the main room was punctuated by the door chime. Since she was standing she went to greet Malik. She was not surprised he brought two warriors with him; that fact meant he was not willing to trust himself to be alone with her. Any woman worth her salt understood what that meant.

  “Gentlemen come in. It was wise to bring warriors to taste the brew. I should have thought of that too. Desohta see if Medic and Ipino can join us.”

  Desohta excused himself to make the calls.

  “These are my right and left hand, lieutenants. He is known as Avery, she as Alba.”

  “They are coming Alpha,” Desohta supplied.

  “This is my master-healer, Desohta. More of my family are on the way. Shall we sit while we wait?”

  Malik agreed and lead the small band to the couches. Easy as you please, Malik sat on one couch with his lieutenants and Micha took the opposite couch. Desohta took the small cauldron and set it with the other snacks on offer. Once that was done, he sat next to Micha.

  “How is our warrior?” Malik requested.

  “He’s been through a lot in the past few days. Today was the last straw. He sleeps at the moment. Shuja' is with him and knows she can come get me at any time. I am confident that with a good eight or more hours of rest and sleep he will be fine,” Desohta supplied.

  “Excellent,” Alba smiled. “He fights like a Koplash…um. It’s a long bodied creature with four legs, the paws are clawed and deadly sharp so are their teeth. The pelt is sandy with two silver stripes down its back, but it’s the gas that it sprays that is really bad. It stinks, horribly, but if not expelled from the lungs can cause some serious damage. They go from tranquil to hell beast in an instant and spare nothing or no one.”

  Micha grinned. “It’s the small packages that pack the biggest wallop.”

  It took a moment for her guests to parse out her meaning and agree. Micha had just been asked about her first fight when her apartment door opened to admit Ipino and Medic. She gave Medic a sultry smile and tapped the seat next to her. Ipino she also invited to sit next to her.

  “This is my quartermaster Ipino and my mate, Medic,” she touched Medic’s arm. “And master-healer in his own right. Across from us is Malik and on his right is Avery and on the left Alba.”

  “And,” Medic examined the stocked table. “What is all this?”

  “Ways to improve on a recipe,” the words met with a distinctive ding. “And that is the signal that the first batch is ready.” She stood and went over to the replicator and retrieved the jug with a wax seal.

  Setting it on the table between them she grinned. “Who wants some?”

  Beer mugs were brought forward and extended. She filled each one and was impressed. There had been just enough for everyone. Not waiting she took the first swig.

  The flavor punched her in the face with the complex notes zipping through it. There was so much going on, but nothing was competing with each other. It was an amateur orchestra; the symphony well played, but there was room to improve. Before the second swig she swirled the liquid and inhaled the aroma.

  Everyone was silent as they contemplated what was before them.

  Micha sat. “Okay, that has teeth.”

  “Its unusual, but good.” Alba offered.

  “What did you like?” Micha leaned forward.

  “Um…the spiciness followed by the bold flavors. I do not know the spices, but they seem to work well together.”

  “But does it speak of the battle we just witnessed?” Micha challenged.

  “No,” Alba shook her head. “This is someone else’s victory.”

  Micha grinned like a cheshire. “Now let’s see if we can recreate that victory on our palates.”

  Micha launched into explaining the original recipe and after deliberation decided that further exploration was required. Everything on the table was examined and combinations made. There was some heated discussion about which flavors were the best base pairings. Micha ended the debate by fetching Shuja'.

  A quick explanation was made and she agreed to sample the base pairings and shook her head at all of them. she went to the table and selected the darkest grapes. “can these be dehydrated?”

  Micha nodded. Taking a bunch to the replicator she did just that.

  Shuja' continued her hunt. She chose a different type of plum that had tart component and chose a grape with a white skin. She set her choices on a plate. “is that all?”

  Micha smiled wide. “Since you asked. This,” she handed over her mug. “is what we are starting with. You helped us with the fruit choice. Think you can find the right spice mix too?”

  Shuja' sniffed than swallowed, considered and tasted it again. Setting the mug down she moved down the table. She nibbled and sniffed everything. While she did that, Micha retrieved various types of espresso for her to sample. None of her choices Micha expected. The story they told was instead one of love. That was a fine base to tell a battle story from.

  The espresso that she chose had caramel notes, she kept the cinnamon, chose a seed similar to anise but was smokier and for the capsaicin

  she chose a plant leaf that had a red sap that looked like blood for the bold bite and a smoky flavor.

  Micha thanked her for the assistance and offered to bring some when it was ready she shook her head. “I’ll wait until Phal can have some too.”

  Micha created the recipe in the replicator and titled the recipe The Love Song. She set it to age at two, five and ten years. Turning back to her guest she shook her head and smiled. “We wanted a battle song and got a love song instead,” she raised a finger. “But now we have the base to build the battle.”

  “That is half the battle,” Avery grinned at the following groans. “While we wait for the love song to finish why don’t we consider the other side of the fight?”

  Once more discussion rang through the room as choices were set aside. The debate had gotten intense when the replicator dinged to inform them it was ready with the new recipe. Micha ordered mugs washed and dried before anymore was drunk to avoid mixing the flavor profile.

  Everyone took less this time and were more thoughtful about the profile. Micha had to admit that Shuja' had nailed it with her selections. It tasted wonderfully complex. The smoke and heat hit first than the caramel and the other spices followed. It was the unexpected kick from the tartness that cleansed the palate; making room for more.

  “Well,” Medic murmured. “That is a tribute to love right there.”

  Avery frowned. “I do not know Phal, but from this I can extrapolate some things. Like he is not one to start a fight, but will finish it?”

  Malik grinned and nodded. “True. The smoky bite mixed with the sweet under tones also says there is more if one dares to look deep enough.”

  “A good start to the evening,” Micha clapped her hands “Now, how do we make that,” she held up her mug. “A tribute to his victory?”

  The next twelve hour were a testament to celebration. At the end they had twenty-five blood wine recipes that they enjoyed and believed would sell well and another twelve that were for special occasions. Some changes to the yeast allowed them to find more potent combinations than the original.

  She had kept Ipino and Desohta as close as Medic. Appreciating them. She had decided to create a recipe for each of her family;a eventually. When the door shut, she sighed at the mess. It had felt good to unwind. Now it was time to get back to the job. She prowled over to where Medic sat.

  Alone for the first time in weeks, they cuddled on the couch amid the chaos and just existed with each other. She closed her eyes and purred. When she opened her eyes, Medic was gone and someone had cleaned up the mess. Tempted to go back to sleep, she sat up.

  There was plenty to do.

  Naginata

  Chemical Composition: Capsaicin (C??H??NO?)