The Succession Trials

The Royal courtyard was usually aglow with the soft light emitted from its lush foliage, but today lanterns lit up the darkness. They floated above Yerai’s head, all made of small, spherical mosaics of garnets and diamonds. The garnets glowed in the center of each lantern, small red flames illuminating even the white diamonds with a soft pinkish red. From Yerai’s view on the ground, it was the most ornate gem ceiling she had ever seen. Peacocks stalked in and out of the foliage, their tails glowing silver and their feathers shone an iridescent purple.

“Do you think you’re ready?”

Goosebumps ran up and down her arms. She smelled the faint hint of lavender and firewood before she heard Magnus’ voice. He stood beside her, a full six inches taller, amber eyes glowing with the firelight in the lanterns.

“Do you?” Yerai retorted jokingly.

He glanced down at her with a small grin.

“Not when I’m competing with you.”

“That’s because you know I’ll win.”

Magnus nodded and Yerai let out a soft laugh. Guests were entering the courtyard now. They wore sheer silks that fell from their shoulders to the ground, embroidered with gold and silver threads. Fragments of gemstones glittered on the borders of every scarf and dotted the sairé of the women. Yerai herself wore a deep purple saire, a silk blouse and sheer skirt dotted with sapphires and sunstones. Gold threads hugged the edges of the silk garment and an extra piece of fabric draped over the saire, just covering her exposed stomach. She had not worn anything other than training tunics and the royal armor for so long she felt oddly ornate. Small butterflies made of gold and sapphire sat in her hair. Curls fell onto her face now and then. She brushed them aside to look at Magnus. He wore a sand-colored taich, consisting of a tunic that reached his knees, embroidered in gold and dotted with fragments of sunstone.

“You look so different,” Yerai tilted her head. Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“I distinctly remember seeing you yesterday.”

“No,” Yerai rolled her eyes. “From when I first met you.”

“Well,” Magnus chuckled. “I would hope so.”

“Yes,” She glanced back at the quickly-filling courtyard. “I wouldn’t want to look like a child either.”

“Precisely.”

“It still shocks me sometimes, though.”

She could feel Magnus studying her. He kept silent. A glittering emerald taich appeared from the corner of Yerai’s eye. She glanced towards the doorway as the King came into view.

Magnus took his place in front of the King silently. His eyes darted between each guest, scanning for any hint of a hidden weapon before they landed on Yerai. He winked.

Yerai looked away, feeling her cheeks growing pink.

“Magnus,” The King chided, his eyes catching everything, “You’re distracting your fellow warriors.”

“Sorry, aalya.” He grinned impishly. The King clicked his tongue good-naturedly, but nodded in approval at the use of the royal moniker.

Attendees had gathered around the banquet table set off to the side. The head of the table was slightly raised to signal the designated royal seats. Chatter around the banquet table quieted as everyone caught sight of the Royal party. Yerai could finally scan the faces of the crowd. She recognized some as those she trained and fought beside during her days as a soldier. They did not carry weapons.

The King stepped onto the platform that designated the head of the table and raised his arms. “Welcome,”

Any hushed whispers stopped.

“It is a pleasure to have you at Apaelade’s next Succession Trials.”

Quiet claps.

“We have come to celebrate the six Apaeladian warriors who will be tested against each other to become the next ruler and resident of the Royal Apaeladian Palace.” The King turned to the table with a raised chin and smiled.

“Will our champions please rise?”

The King’s champions stood one by one, and Yerai did not quite recognize any of them. Perhaps they were part of different classes of graduating warriors. Some looked worn, as though they had spent their time on battlefields, while others bore the clean look of the King’s Guard, just like Magnus. One of them, however, caught Yerai’s eye. She did recognize him. Barsa. Magnus’ lifelong training partner. He flashed her a charming smile and she could not help but smile softly in return.

Magnus stepped forward next, hands clasped behind his back. His broadsword hung at his waist—its presence signifying that he was part of the King’s inner guard. He stared straight forward. Yerai always imagined him in the King’s emerald robes if he won the Succession Trials. He seemed as though he should already be wearing them. Magnus’ eyes shot to the side and Yerai’s back straightened.

She stepped onto the first elevated step of the royal dais. Her arm-length daggers were strapped to her legs, and the metal rubbed against her skin. She was not carrying her double swords for appearances, but the smaller weapons were reassuring. The first four champions turned to look at her and she nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” The King motioned for the six to return to their previous positions.

“As is tradition,” The King picked up, “Three sets of trials will be held to test the minds and bodies of our champions; A test of our city’s history, a strategy test, and an evaluation of battle skill – after which a final trial will be held to single out my successor amongst the remaining champions.”

Cheers rose from the table and some guests patted the champion’s backs. “May the best warrior win!” They chanted in Apaelade’s fluid tongue.

Yerai intertwined her fingers, tapping on her knuckles in effort not to seem fidgety to the King. It was not the first few trials themselves that made Yerai twitch. Historical knowledge was a child’s subject, at least at the warrior compound where she and the other champions had grown up. Battle skill and strategy were what earned her the ranks of a Royal Warrior. However, thinking of the final trial made her arms itch. Between the six champions, there was no way of knowing who would make it to the final test. Not that she knew what the final test was anyway. The details of each trial were kept completely secret until those who passed were determined by the King and his Royal Kinet, Meka. Yerai could see Meka at the end of the table now. He sat amidst trainers from the warrior compound in the same shade of robes as the King himself.

The courtyard had descended into quiet, pleasant chatter and congratulations. Musicians had begun to set up near the entrance. Fruits spilled from the bowls set on the banquet table. Only a few guests reached for them, but many eyed the King until he himself reached for a bite of dragonfruit.

“I think you can take a break to enjoy a banquet in your honor.” The King leaned over to Yerai. She glanced at Magnus, who stood at attention, listening as the King spoke quietly to her from the platform.

“Well—“

The King interrupted with a sharp sound. “Four guards is enough.”

Yerai nodded slowly, making a note to keep an eye on all of the courtyard’s open entrances. She drifted over to Magnus, who had apparently just been released from his duty in a similar manner.  As she approached, he and Barsa wrapped their arms around each other tightly.

Pods of guests had begun to crowd around the champions, waiting to congratulate each one. Barsa caught Yerai’s eye as he gestured animatedly to Magnus. That smile flashed across Barsa’s face again and Yerai could not stop herself from joining the two. Like Yerai herself, they both wore black kheni in crisp lines under their eyes, but Yerai’s makeup extended into dramatic designs that wrapped around her temples. Magnus and Barsa’s kheni was more of a subtle accent, making their golden eyes appear even more calculating and narrow.

“Congratulations, Yerai.” Barsa wrapped an arm around her. “Although I should say I am not surprised, as the other champions probably feel the same.”

Yerai laid her head on his shoulder. “I should say I expected to see you here as well.”

“Where you go, I go.”

Yerai laughed, and Magnus raised an eyebrow. “That’s going to prove an issue when she goes to bed at night.” He said pointedly.

“Only for you.” Barsa waggled his eyebrows.

“Show a little respect, Barsa.” Magnus’ nose crinkled in distaste. “She might be your next ruler.”

“Right, sorry aalya.” Barsa stepped away from Yerai and bowed his head.

“Stop it,” she crossed her arms. “You both are ridiculous.”

“Oh, don’t think anything of it.” Barsa soothed good-naturedly.

“We both know how much of a clown you are by now, Barsa.” Magnus snickered. Barsa shot him a dirty look.

The musicians began playing a lively tune as the drummer unrolled a thick carpet, placing a tall, cylindrical hand drum next to the plucked string instruments.

“I already saw some of the guests downing shorb. Wouldn’t be surprised if some others got rowdy trying to keep up with them.” Barsa gestured to the banquet table.

“Not everyone gets rowdy drinking, Barsa, that might just be you.” Magnus cackled.

“Thank you, Magnus, for that insight.” Barsa mocked.

“How many competitors do you think we’ll see in the final round?” Yerai gestured to the crowd.

“My money’s definitely on you, Yerai.” Barsa chuckled.

“Hey,” Magnus feigned offense.

“You agree with me.” Barsa raised his eyebrows.

“Seems like everyone’s on the same page about that then.” Yerai sighed. Her shoulders felt heavier. Barsa placed a free hand on Yerai’s shoulder.

“Belief isn’t an expectation, it’s a compliment.” He winked.  “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can say that Magnus definitely bribed the King.” Barsa raised his index finger in the air.

“How would I,” Magnus gestured to himself. “A warrior, bribe a king, with all of the riches of Apaelade?”

“Ok Royal Commander of the Apaeladian Army.” Barsa mocked in a nasally tone.

Magnus raised a four-fingered fist at Barsa. “Up yours.” 

“Manners,” Yerai chided Magnus.

“Not for this idiot.” Magnus flicked Barsa, who let out an impish laugh.

A drumbeat sounded and the chatter seemed to hush once more as the drummer began with a slow rhythm, building into a lively polyrhythm. A space cleared in front of the musical set, and Yerai made her way to the front, her feet already tapping to the beat as the string instruments joined. There were three stringed instruments that sat on the knees of their players. One, the arangi, sat horizontally on the player’s knees as they plucked upwards. It gave off a rather tinny sound and was plucked quickly, adding a lively melody. The instrument to its right, the nikum, was played diagonally, shaped like a pear with a long neck. The head of the instrument rested on the player’s raised right knee and the bottom sat on the player’s left knee, which remained on the ground. The nikum added another quick melody on top of the arangi, both complemented by the lower sound from the strings of the yuor. A tambourine chimed in lightly and the instruments fell quickly into the perfect melody. Yerai felt her shoulders move as the melody kicked, ebbing between the three string instruments.

Magnus leaned over Yerai. She looked up at him and he gestured to the open space around the musicians with wide eyes, nudging Yerai’s shoulder with his own.

“Don’t be silly,” Yerai shook her head. “It’s the King’s banquet.”

He said nothing but moved his own shoulders against hers to the quick beat. Yerai rolled her eyes.

“Come on!” Magnus nudged again. Yerai shook her head, a smile breaking out onto her face. He chuffed mischeviously. His hand wrapped decisively around her wrist and he pulled her into the center of the open space. Magnus’ voice seemed to fill the empty air around the musicians as he uttered a tuneful vocal scale in time with the music. Yerai placed a hand on her forehead as he danced around her in a lively manner. She had heard him sing many times, his baritone smooth and sweet, Magnus danced to the beat of a contemporary Apaeladian love song, smiling cheekily at Yerai.

She tucked the extra silk piece of her saire into her skirt, joining Magnus in soprano and falling into step with his own movement. Some of the crowd cheered, and the musicians raised their volume vigorously. A warm feeling filled Yerai, expanding in her chest as she sang with the clinking of her own bangles against each other.

The song hit a chorus and guests slowly began to join in, cheerful voices harmonizing with Magnus and Yerai. She let out a content laugh, throwing her head back and staring up at the lantern ceiling, stars shimmering in the tiny gaps between lanterns.

Lively harmonies faded out slowly as the song ended, the high of it all receding as the musicians fell into the next song.

Yerai glanced over the shuffling crowd to the King, huddled with his advisor, Meka. Meka looked around shiftily. Yerai raised an eyebrow, gesturing to Magnus with a tilt of her head. He moved immediately, the previous mischief in his demeanor gone. They pushed through the crowd in a businesslike manner that turned a few heads. Yerai stopped Magnus a distance from the small group – anything discussed by the King was completely confidential to them, especially now that they had been announced as Succession Trial champions.

 Meka still seemed to be uncomfortable, scanning the crowd with immense focus. Did he sense something? Yerai attempted to follow Meka’s gaze, but everyone looked similar. No hidden hands, no reaching into their taich or constantly touching the skirts of their sairé.

“What is Meka looking for?” Yerai muttered ever so quietly to Magnus. His eyebrows were furrowed, picking up on the same clues Yerai had been following.

“His hands are still, so they couldn’t be harnessing any form of Life magic.” Magnus squinted. He was still searching for any sign of golden light enveloping Meka’s hands. Yerai could not even begin to imagine the extent of a kinet’s abilities—especially one as powerful and high ranking as Meka. She followed Magnus’ gaze closely. When kinets manipulated Life Magic, it was like the world around them was breathing on their command. “He is looking for something.” Magnus cut into Yerai’s keen observation.

“Or someone.”

“Or they sense something is wrong.”

Yerai itched to stand closer to Meka and the King. If Meka noticed a disturbance it could come from anywhere. If it was associated with Life magic, it could come out of thin air—literally.

Meka’s eyes grazed over Yerai and Magnus, stopping momentarily to catch Yerai’s kheni-lined stare before examining the entrance to the courtyard. Finally, his gaze stopped moving. Yerai’s eyes shot to the entrance to the courtyard, but she did not see anything. That was, until someone clad in green robes embedded with moonstones stumbled to the platform. This person looked puzzled, holding a scroll with the red dragon seal of Apaelade melted onto the paper. The seal was unbroken. Meka made no movement aside from his fingers gripping the edge of the table. Wisps of gold-threaded light began to surround his palms. Life magic.

Whoever was holding the scroll was part of the Apaeladian Royal Libraries, likely either a prophet or an apprentice. The person did not even notice the Meka’s fingers move, as they began to hurry towards the King. Magnus stepped purposefully in front of the apprentice—the person looked too young to be a prophet –and Yerai stood to the King’s back. The King spun around, registering the apprentice with the scroll.

“State your purpose.” Magnus beckoned to the rest of the Royal guard, and they formed two lines around Magnus, Yerai, and the King.

“This scroll—“ The apprentice muttered breathlessly but was cut off by Meka’s snarl. They were standing now, their hands still surrounded in gold-threaded light. Yerai furrowed her eyebrows, moving herself so she was facing Magnus and the apprentice, but stood between the kinet and the King.

“It’s not time.” Meka hissed at the apprentice, who waved the scroll again.

“But there has been an insight!” The apprentice nearly jumped in anticipation. “An announcement from those studying the First Prophecy!”

“And what,” The King stood, would that announcement be?”

The apprentice began to speak once more, but Meka stalked forward. The apprentice shut their mouth promptly.

“I think you would rather keep this a secret, aalya.” Meka addressed the King before snatching the scroll from the apprentice. “You,“ Meka grabbed the apprentice’s arm. “—are coming with me to discuss what matters are appropriate to speak in public and what are not.”

“It’s important,” The apprentice insisted.

“Many things are important, that does not mean they need to be spoken of in public. In fact, most times they should be spoken of in private.” Meka began to haul the apprentice away. The apprentice threw a glance back at Yerai in one last effort.

“Please,” The apprentice tugged on Meka’s robes. “The prophet library said this was of the utmost importance, and they knew the dangers of telling, but it’s you—“ the apprentice turned to Yerai. Her face contorted in confusion.

“Enough!” Meka yanked on the apprentice’s raised arm pointing to Yerai.

“The First Prophecy begins with you!” The apprentice called backward as Meka hauled them back into the entrance they had stumbled from.

Yerai found herself staring blankly at a quickly-fading trail of golden energy tracing Meka’s path out of the courtyard. She searched for a thought or something to say to the King, but all she could seem to do was hold herself back from chasing after the apprentice asking what this prophecy was and what she had to do with it. She turned to the King, who seemed to have composed himself of any initial shock.

“I think,” The King started, “I will visit the library to see what exactly this apprentice has to say for themselves.” Yerai stepped forward to follow the King, who then held a hand to Yerai. “I think it’s time for you to rest.”

Yerai allowed her expression to cloud her face again. “I think you forget, aalya, Apaeladian warriors do not need to rest.”  She failed to keep a twinge of distaste from her tone. In truth, perhaps warriors did need rest, but even when Yerai had been on the battlefield for weeks without sleep, her energy and alertness never seemed to fade.

“I do not forget.” The King shook his head. “I would prefer you in top shape instead of following me around after some library apprentice. I will take three of the guards with me. The champions may adjourn to their quarters.”

“I suppose this banquet is over.” The King announced. Yerai glanced at Magnus. His expression was equally as confused as he readied himself to accompany the King back into the palace. As the courtyard emptied out, Yerai took a seat on the banquet table’s dais.

“Now what was that?” Barsa sat next to Yerai on the bench.

Yerai shrugged. “I have a feeling the King does not want me to follow to find out.”

“Do you think he would tell you if the prophets’ telling had to do with you?” He asked. Yerai shook her head.

“Not if it was better to keep it secret for the duration of the Succession Trials. This is the most important responsibility the King has before his time as a ruler comes to an end. He would not let a new phase or telling come in the way of it.”

“But you,” Barsa pointed at Yerai. “Are forgetting that you are a Succession Trial champion. If a prophet’s telling had something to do with you, then who knows how it would affect the Succession Trials? Perhaps it is riskier to not explore the role you have to play.”

“That is not for me to decide.”

At that, the two fell silent. Yerai felt something rise in her throat at the thought of the King keeping what seemed like an essential part of Yerai’s own future away from her.

“As is custom,” Barsa spoke Yerai’s thoughts “The King decides the fate of his warriors, including when his warriors are allowed to take control of their own fate.” He squeezed Yerai’s hand. She placed a head on Barsa’s shoulder before getting up to head towards the palace entrance.

The champions still stayed in the winding south wing of the palace, overlooking the gardens past the courtyard. The stairwell wound in a seemingly endless spiral with an intricately designed banister. Yerai traced her fingers over the gold engraved walls, and fern fronds tickled her fingers, hanging from their pots between the gold mosaic. Yerai paused at the dark wooden door of her chambers. The smell of jasmine wafted from the open doorway. Yerai inhaled deeply and stepped in, closing her eyes and letting the door shut ever-so-quietly behind her.

The chambers of the Apaeladian palace were not what Yerai would call modest. In the compound that she and the other champions grew up in, they had shared rooms for years until receiving their ranks. As ranked warriors, they lived in their own, smaller rooms. In comparison, the palace chambers were massive. A circular bed sat in a separate curtained alcove to Yerai’s right, and she stepped into the open space in the middle of the room. Pearls of jasmine hung from the ceiling in wide-mouthed pots. The smell of firewood and lavender drifted through the jasmine. The door creaked open behind Yerai.

“I saw you come in.” Magnus spoke quietly.

“Magnus,” Yerai turned to him with a sigh, sinking cross-legged to the floor. “Why is it that we cannot even be offered an iota of knowledge about things that concern us?”

Magnus crouched to meet Yerai’s eyes. They stared at her with a soulful empathy that seemed like it could make her forget the events of the last hour.

“We’re servants.” He answered quietly. “Perhaps we are revered as something greater, but it’s all an illusion to make us forget that becoming warriors was not our choice in the first place.”

Yerai glanced down.

“But,” Magnus placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so she looked back at him. “You are something greater.”

“Whatever that apprentice said was about me.” Yerai frowned. “And I cannot even listen to what is being said. Instead, the King and Meka get to decide whether they want to tell me.”

“Then perhaps it’s time for you to look for your destiny on your own.”

“We’re on the verge of the largest trial in the kingdom,” Yerai responded. “And I don’t know what any of today’s events means.”

 “Maybe we take a trip to the library. I’m sure we would be able to find something about a prophecy there.” Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“I have a feeling that would be against the King’s wishes.”

“What about your own?”

Yerai’s eyes began to feel heavy, and her chest felt like it was about to hit the floor. Magnus noticed.

“You should sleep,” He took Yerai’s hands to help her stand. “We can think about this tomorrow.”

Yerai yawned with a nod, placing her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want to put whatever future lays ahead of us in jeopardy.”

Magnus placed his chin on top of her head and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “Be that as it may, you should have the chance to decide what that future is.”

Yerai nodded and stepped away, letting him leave. Threads of gold light faded from in between them. Yerai watched them curiously, shaking her head and stepping into the bath room opposite to her bed. She found her mind consumed by the thought of the sunrise, and what would come as the first official day of the Succession Trials neared.