Gunmetal Gods by Zamil Akhtar

Author:Zamil Akhtar [Akhtar, Zamil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Published: 2020-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

KEVAH

Cheers erupted as I stepped in the middle of the crowd. The zabadar had made a circle large enough for Yamin and me to move twenty paces each way. He was bigger and more muscular, but no doubt I was faster.

We circled each other, then I baited Yamin with a slide. He lunged and found air. I grabbed his arm and twisted it till his knees thudded on the ground. I pushed his head and made him eat dirt as the zabadar howled. He growled, then kicked to his feet.

“Ru-stam! Ru-stam!” the zabadar around chanted. Rustam was their wrestling saint. Apparently, during the best matches he possessed both competitors. “Ru-stam! Ru-stam!” They beat their drums in rhythm with their chants, setting the pace of our bout.

Yamin lunged several times, but I evaded with a duck or sidestep. I’d not felt this alive in ten years — this full of lightning. I darted for his leg and pulled it out from him. He slammed onto his back. One more down and I’d won.

“Ru-stam! Ru-stam! Ru-stam!”

This time, Yamin waited. He circled and eyed me, unblinking. But no man can avoid blinking forever. I was at him when his eyes closed for that fraction of a second. I pushed at his muscled form and we tumbled together into the dirt. Three downs.

The zabadar hollered. The winners of the bets beamed as copper coins exchanged hands. Yamin pushed me off and got up.

“You…whatever you became…it’s cheating!” He made a fist, then stormed off.

Aicard watched from the front of the crowd. He clenched a fistful of copper coins and smiled. “Were you this good in your youth?”

“Better. I’m still working off the rust.”

He put his hand out to help me up. I pulled up and dusted off.

“Have you seen any yet?” he asked.

“Any what?”

“You know…any jinn?”

I looked around and saw a clear sky, the sun above, and the zabadar cheering, “Ke-vah! Ke-vah! Ke-vah!”

“Nothing.” I said. I’d been looking for the jinn to no avail.

“So…can you snap your fingers and make the wind blow?”

Snap. Snap. Nothing happened, just like the last hundred times I tried.

Days had passed since Vaya’s death. I’d planted his shrine in a patch of blue lilies that the fire and wind didn’t destroy. We prayed for him, though none of us really knew him. He was born before most of our fathers and died at seventy-seven. For such wisdom to return to dust was no doubt a blow to our cause. And yes, he felt like…a friend. Death had ended more friendships than I wanted to count — such was the life of a janissary. I wondered how many friendships I’d ended — and would end. Is that all we were doing: competing to end friendships? Severing the bonds between men, forever? I sighed, knowing it better to leave such questions for when the blood had finally dried.

Our cause had taken us west toward Redbeard and his fleet of three hundred ships. We raced to make an alliance with him, and with the governor of Demoskar, who was a janissary with an army of five thousand.

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