He paced across the polished marble floor of the Citadel meeting room, deep in thought. Its high arched ceiling and carved columns cast shadows in the light that poured in through the widows. He stopped before a great obsidian table and traced the carved symbols on it with his fingertips. The symbols spoke of unity, of shared purpose that now seemed a tantalizing promise of the future.

  Yet the chamber also felt like a cage.

  The supportive voices of his loyal band echoed in his mind, their unwavering faith in him was a comfort and a burden. “You will bring us together, Ascended One,” someone had said. He promised them a new future but that depended on what could be achieved today in this room. He straightened his shoulders, forcing the fear back down where it couldn’t be seen. He heard steps approaching and turned to face the doors, composing himself into the person the Ascended One was meant to be.

  The heavy wooden doors groaned open and Bakalit of the Thirstaker tribe came in. He moved with the solid, deliberate confidence of a man who was used to being obeyed. His black robes seemed to absorb the light and his thick blond hair caught the sunbeams, turning them to gold. Bakalit nodded to him and went over to the window that gave a view over the ruined city,

  Radaki came in next. The braided warrior’s tail at the back of his shaved head swayed with his steps. His arms were rubbed with a grey ash, and his red robes were cut for ease of movement, the claw motif on the shoulders a symbol of his tribal pride. His eyes locked onto Bakalit, and a flicker of open hostility crossed his face before he looked at Tal.

  Then Whelay came in. Her braids, intricately woven with polished white teeth, shifted against her shoulders. She wore minimal clothing, a simple wrap of bark-fiber that spoke of a people closely connected to nature. Two of her Wardens walked with her, murmuring to themselves, as if they were in conversation with unseen spirits.

  “Thank you all for coming to this meeting! It is best if we speak in private, so ask your retainers to leave.”

  The retainers all left the room.

  “In the spirit of peace, all weapons must be removed from this chamber.”

  Radaki snorted. “You ask much. A warrior without a blade is like a man without a tongue.”

  “It is a sign of trust, “ said Whelay.

  "Your weapons will be returned to you when we are done." He turned to the door and shouted. "Jantar! Come here!”

  His chief of security came in and went to collect their weapons. Bakalit handed over a heavy sword. Radaki surrendered a long, curved knife and a bone-handled dagger, placing them on the pile with a look of disgust. Whelay offered a small, ceremonial knife which she placed gently with the others. Jantar carried the collection out of the room and closed the doors behind him.

  “Well well! We are all here, Tal Eko,” said Bakalit, folding his arms across his chest. “Speak your purpose for this gathering.”

  He gestured to the table in the center of the chamber that had four wooden chairs around it. “Let us be seated.” He waited until the others had taken their places and then sat down.

  “I did not ask you here to trade words for the sake of it. I asked you here because the world is changing around us while we remain trapped in old rivalries.”

  “The Burner Tribe is not trapped,” Radaki said, leaning forward. “We roam. We hunt. We live free.”

  “Your ancestors did not have Colonists breathing down their necks,” Tal countered. “Colonial prospectors sneak into our lands, stealing what is ours. Their soldiers build forts on the plains. You say you are free, but your hunting grounds will be taken by the colonists one day.”

  “The Wardens hold the river lands,” Whelay said. “ The river lands are a far distance from the colonists.”

  “For now,” Tal said. “They respect nothing that stands in the way of their profit. They see three tribes that they can turn against each other, a game where they are the only winners.”

  Bakalit scoffed. “They are merchants and farmers, not an army.”

  “An army of merchants is still an army,” Tal pressed. “They buy our loyalty with cheap goods, they poison our young with their ways, and they wait. They wait for the best moment to strike, when we are weak, when we are fighting each other.”

  He gestured to the windows, to the world beyond the stone Citadel. “Here in Trazia the Old Ones built a civilization that spanned this continent. They understood the land, the Eko-sense, the power that flows beneath our feet. What are we now?”

  He waited, saying nothing. The three chieftains watched him, their expressions unreadable.

  “These colonials build their farms on the Fertile Coast, and their prospectors drive metal stakes into the ground to find what lies beneath our land. I have just returned from a mission into the colonists land. There I came across some prospectors who were close to discovering the secrets of the old ones. If those secrets are discovered by the colonists that could be a threat to us.”

  He placed a hand on the table. “I do not try to restore Trazia for myself. I have brought craftsmen and builders. I can see this place as a new capital, a seat for a shared council, with a banner that represents not one tribe, but all Ashok.”

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  Bakalit leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. “These are fine words. A shared council. A single banner. Yet words will not erase old grudges. Vengeance left unpaid festers like a wound in the flesh.” His eyes slid sideways, locking onto Radaki.

  The Burner chieftain’s fingers began to drum a slow, angry rhythm on the stone table. “We remember the raid on the sun-beds, Bakalit. Your warriors took the salt and the lives of four of my hunters.”

  Whelay’s said. “The spirits are silent on vengeance. They only speak of balance. A great imbalance grows here in this city. You wish to raise a tomb! I ask you, what do we build upon? There is a legend that greed brought the old ones down. You offer us unity, but is it built on the same ambition that broke this world before?”

  “My ambition is for our people, not for myself. Look at us! We are trapped in the same cycle. The colonists are not our only enemy.”

  “Bold words from a man with a third eye,” Bakalit said, with a smile. “You speak of cycles. You say you are different from the old ones. Why should I believe you? You want to sit in their chair and speak from their city. You offer us a shared future, but you are at the center of it.”

  “I agree. He’s right to be suspicious, as am I,” Radaki added, though his tone was less mocking than Bakalit’s. “You ask us to abandon our ways. The Wardens have their riverlands. The Burners have their hunting grounds. The Thirstakers have the highlands. You trade what we are for what you think we should be.”

  “I am not asking you to abandon anything,” he said, his patience beginning to fray.

  “Then what are you asking for?” Bakalit’s gaze sharpened, his focus shifting from Tal to the Burner chieftain. “Perhaps you are asking us to forget. Forget the burnt farms and the stolen herds? My brother Kaelin was scouting your border, Radaki. He did not return. We found him crushed under rockfall, but the earth around him was scorched. Torch-marks do not lie.”

  Radaki shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. “You dare accuse me of his death? That was caused by a thunderstorm! A rock slide on unstable ground. Your scouts were the ones who panicked our herd, driving them right into the path of it! “

  “Lies!” Bakalit roared, rising to meet him, his fists slamming onto the table. “You burn our land and then blame the sky!”

  Tal’s voice rose over the argument. “Stop! The colonists will be laughing at us!”

  Yet his words were swallowed by the sudden storm in the chamber. Bakalit stood up leaned over so he was face to face with Radaki across the table. “Your brother Kaelin was a fool who did not know the land!” Radaki snarled, pointing a finger at Bakalit’s chest. “He thought he could walk in badlands during a storm!”

  “My brother’s name will not be insulted by a burner! ” Bakalit bellowed.

  “Stop arguing!” Tal shouted. Yet he was ignored.

  “My brother’s blood cries out from the earth!” Bakalit screamed. He came around the table and his hands reached for Radaki’s throat.

  Radaki met the charge, ducking under Bakalit’s outstretched arms and drove a shoulder into the chieftain’s chest. The two men slammed against a stone pillar, their grunts echoing through the room.

  “Foolishness!” Whelay muttered.

  Tal tried to push the two men apart by getting in between them. “You are two chiefs! You’re acting like you have no control of yourselves! Stop this madness!”

  The men began to calm down once they realized that they would have to fight him before they could fight each other. They stepped back. There was a pause in their argument.

  “Radaki smoothed the front of his robes, though his eyes still burned with a smoldering fire. Bakalit’s chest heaved, a vein pulsing in his temple. Whelay simply watched impatiently, her fingers tapping on the table.

  “ We should resolve your argument by holding the Games.”

  Bakalit narrowed his eyes. “The old Games?”

  “Yes! The games of Trazia. The Arena of Champions is real. The foundations are solid. We should hold the Games again, in the way of our ancestors. We will let Trazia watch the competition and decide which tribe is the strongest!”

  He looked at each of them. “No raids, no ambushes. No feuding. Let the strongest win the game. Thirstakers and Burners will grapple in the arena. The victor’s tribe can claim the honor and the Gold Medal. ”

  Radaki’s smiled. “So the strongest take the prize. Yes. I like this. The Games can be a test. The Burners will not shy from a test of strength.”

  Tal turned to Bakalit. “The Thirstaker Tribe prides itself on its power. Here is your chance to show everyone that your tribes strength is unmatched, not by feuding, but in honorable combat.” Bakalit’s smirk returned, but it was different now. It was not the smirk of a mocker, but of a predator who had scented prey. He looked at Radaki, then back at Tal Eko. “Let the Burners seek their glory. They will learn that the horns of the Thirstaker tribe are sharper than their claws.”

  Tal Eko looked to Whelay. “Will the Wardens join in? Will you let your tribe prove that the strength of the riverlands cannot be broken?”

  Whelay closed her eyes for a moment. She was listening to something he could not hear. “Yes, our ancestors spirits will rise to the challenge.”

  “Then it is agreed,” Tal declared, feeling a sense of relief that pushed back the fear and frustration of the last hour. “We will have the Games. My loyal band will provide food and drink for everyone and we will celebrate together!”

  The mood in the chamber had shifted. The heat of anger cooled, replaced by the anticipation of a thrilling competition. Radaki stretched his arms, the muscles in his shoulders rippling. “My hunters will be eager.”

  Bakalit’s smiled. “Jeska will be pleased. What about you, three-eyes?

  Tal Eko looked at him. "What do you mean?"

  “Are you just going to watch us? You have talked of unity. Will you put your own band forward?”

  Bakalit was testing him, probing for any sign of weakness. Yet he had not expected this. His loyal band were nowhere near the size of a tribe. He struggled to find an answer. “My loyal band is not a tribe, Bakalit.”

  “They live for you and that makes them a tribe.” Bakalit’s grin widened. “Or are you afraid that none of your people are strong enough to face my daughter?”

  He was trapped. If he refused, Bakalit would claim he was a leader who only demanded courage from others but showed none himself. He would be seen as a hypocrite. He saw the trap and only one way out.

  There was a moments pause. “Very well,” Tal said, trying to keep his voice calm. “My loyal band will join the Games.”

  Bakalit let out a sharp laugh of satisfaction.

  Radaki’s smile was genuine now. “Good. This will be an event to remember!”

  Whelay watched them and said, “The spirits will watch the fighters.”

  “If my loyal band wins, will you all return here to agree terms of alliance."

  Radaki laughed and nodded. “Agreed.” Bakalit chuckled and Whelay nodded solemnly.

  “The matter is settled then,” Tal said and he gestured toward the door. “The Games will begin tomorrow morning! Go and choose your fighters. We will meet in the Arena of Champions.”

  The three chiefs left the meeting room.

  He went back to the table, sat down and put his head in his hands.

  Jantar came in. “What has happened?”

  “I have committed my Loyal Band to the Games. Bakalit goaded me into it and left me no choice. It was either accept or lose all respect! Who will fight for me? Who can win for me?"