Fall of the Swords Collection: The Complete Series

Excerpt from Fall of the Swords Collection

Inordinately wealthy, given wide latitude in choices, worshipped by the populace before he could walk. The store of knowledge regarding Flaming Arrow's childhood would fill multiple volumes, but little of this knowledge helps us to understand who he was at age fifteen. The person he became bears little resemblance to the resplendence of his origins. We have no way to account for the compassion, strength, and benevolence that so characterized his rule. The Gathering of Power, by the Wizard Spying Eagle.

* * *

On top of cascading silks sat the Matriarch Bubbling Water, dressed in black high-collared robes, the hair styled fashionably, the eyes set wide on the face. The elaborate dress and meticulous coiffure did little to disguise the fact that she was dead.

Resting on pilings three feet high, the bier stood ready for transport to the pyre grounds. Milling around it were the highest of Eastern noble women, also dressed in black. Three men and nine women stood near the funeral bier between the two outermost battlements of Emparia Castle, waiting for Rippling Water. Over the towering battlement seeped the noise of the crowd beyond the castle walls.

“If Rippling Water doesn't appear soon,” Flaming Arrow said, “someone will have to take her place at the bier.”

The Prefect Rolling Bear grunted, nodding. “Infinite knows where she went, Lord Heir.”

Flaming Arrow frowned at his cousin. What do you really think? he wondered. Without a shred of talent, and hence no telepathy, he would never know. Heir to the throne of the Eastern Empire, Flaming Arrow knew his lack of talent would be his most difficult challenge. He was blind in a world of the sighted. And he was supposed to rule the Empire someday.

He sighed. The Eastern Heir was fifteen years old. His hair was the bronze of cooling embers, his eyes the blue-gray of hazy skies, his skin the brown of tanned leather. Six feet tall, he weighed one hundred seventy-five pounds. He still had the narrow shoulders and hips of adolescence, which many mistook for clumsiness. Left-handed and able to fight equally well with either hand, he was anything but clumsy. Months ago, he had dueled Rolling Bear and won.

“Not like Rippling Water to shirk her duties.” Flaming Arrow looked at the bier towering above them.

The Matriarch Water's mate, Guarding Bear, stood to one side of the east castle gate. The vacant look that had taken possession of the General's eyes four days ago was more intense now. White stubble covered the sagging cheeks, weathered chin, and ropy neck. He hadn't shaved in days. Gray now and without luster, Guarding Bear's hair was more wild and unruly than usual, looking slept in. When alive, Bubbling Water had been the only person able to manage Guarding Bear. Now, in his grief, he couldn't manage himself.

Looking at the ground, Flaming Arrow winced.

Rolling Bear said, his voice low, “Don't worry, Lord; he'll recover eventually.”

Flaming Arrow nodded. Frowning, he fingered the hilt of the Heir Sword. The diamond on the pommel glittered.

I'd give it away to have Grandmother and Grandfather back, he thought.

* * *

Rolling Bear sighed.

Ten years ago, Guarding Bear had passed the Caven Hills prefecture to his eldest son. At first, as nominal Prefect, Rolling Bear had merely instituted his father's general directives, which had grown increasingly few over the years. Now, Father looks as if nothing will ever interest him again, Rolling Bear thought—not even his precious native lands. I'd give away the Caven Hills to have Mother and Father back.

What about your brother, who caused this mess? he asked himself.

Rolling Bear sighed again. No chance he'll be back. Rippling Water should be the one to tell him where she went, he thought. He looked at Flaming Arrow beside him, wondering what the boy would do if he knew.

“I hear you've asked the Lord Emperor to set your requirements,” Rolling Bear said.

“Yes, I asked the night before your…” Sighing, Flaming Arrow gestured mutely at the bier.

“Most boys don't ask until they're much older, Lord,” Rolling Bear said. “I didn't ask until I was nineteen.”

Every father gave his every son a grueling test before awarding the title of man. Few manhood ritual requirements were the same. Most boys formally asked their fathers to set the requirements at eighteen years old, after completing all formal studies. Flaming Arrow's asking at fifteen was atypical. He had completed nearly all his formal schooling early.

The Heir shrugged. “I'm ready for it, Lord Bear. Since I didn't have a talent to develop, I devoted the extra time to my studies.”

“Most people use their talents to learn, though, Lord. Not having any, how did you learn so fast?” How do you endure without talent? Rolling Bear wanted to ask.

“I don't know.” Flaming Arrow glanced at the sky. “What time is it?”

The bulk of Emparia Castle hid the afternoon sun.

Consulting the psychic flow, Rolling Bear said, “She still has ten minutes.” How do you endure it all, Flaming Arrow? Rolling Bear wanted to ask. Your father's sterile, your mother cuckolded him, you're a bastard and don't have a shred of talent besides. Why don't you fall on your knife to expiate your terrible shame? How can you laugh and charm everyone you meet and find the happiness I usually see in your eyes? How do you do it, Flaming Arrow?

“What do you think the Lord Emperor will have you do?” Rolling Bear asked. “Some fathers delight in finding difficult goals for their boys.”

* * *

“Something appropriate to my station, I hope.” Flaming Arrow smiled, knowing what he wanted to do. Although the ritual prohibited a boy from suggesting requirements, the Heir intended to do exactly that. The current military situation disgusted him. In the Windy Mountains, military attrition ran at nearly thirty percent per year; at Burrow, it was fifty. The pool of available warriors had almost doubled when female conscription began ten years before, but so had the number of bandits. I know I can decimate the bandits! Flaming Arrow thought, hoping the ritual requirements fitted into his plan.

“Do you have an assistant in mind, Lord?” the Prefect asked. Most boys chose someone to help them. For instance, if a boy had to climb a mountain, his assistant followed at a respectful distance and intervened only if the boy injured himself.

“Know anything about bandits, Lord Bear?” Flaming Arrow asked back.

“No, Lord Heir. Why?” Rolling Bear frowned at him.

“No reason. Know anyone who does?”

A black, bushy eyebrow climbed his forehead. “The Sectathon Colonel Probing Gaze spied on them for five years, Lord. Lives here in Emparia City. Why do you ask?”

Flaming Arrow shrugged, not looking at him. “Just curious. What the bandits are doing is intolerable. I'll have to resolve the situation.” He smiled. “Someday.”

Again, Rolling Bear frowned. “What are you up to, whelp?”

Flaming Arrow chuckled. “You sound like your father, Lord Bear.” My assistant will have to be an expert on bandits, he thought. I can't ask too many people before Father sets my requirements. If the Emperor learns my intention, he'll forbid it outright.

“Well, I do like a man who keeps his own counsel, but—”

“You'd still like to know,” Flaming Arrow finished for him, grinning.

“That I would, Lord, that I would.” The Prefect Bear chuckled mightily.

“Blast, where is she?”

“Wherever she is, I imagine.”

“I could garrote you, you know.” Flaming Arrow shook his head. “How do you handle it so well?”

Sighing, Rolling Bear put his heart on his face. “I don't, not really.”

Taking a deep breath, Flaming Arrow looked at the ground. The Bear Family tragedy was his tragedy, and their grief, his.

“When are you going to mate my little sister?”

Smiling, he looked at Rolling Bear. “You wouldn't think to ask if I'll mate her, eh? No one ever does. It's always when.”

“Of course.” Chuckling, the Prefect gestured over his shoulder, toward the bier. “You two almost grew up together, eh? Mother always winked and said, 'Two children together are less prone to mischief than both alone.' ”

Flaming Arrow laughed, shaking his head.