"Zeros aren't admitted into the King's District."

Arya fiddled with the bronze band of metal around her wrist, seven ebony 0's emblazoned around it. "Yes, of course," she acknowledged, staring at her booted feet. "But not on Challenge Day. Which is today." She dared to look up at the guard's face. "Sir."

Malik scowled at her from the towering height of his lion body. He flexed his yellow claws in irritation, scratching at the sand. "Challenge Day. If you cannot tell, it is currently night."

Indeed, dark clouds rolled above. The rains had ceased mere minutes before. "It's almost stormbreak," Arya pointed out, looking back at the ground again. At Malik's long, razor-sharp claws. Before he could protest, she added, "Besides, it's Nandu's first Challenge Day." She hefted the sleeping cub on her shoulder for emphasis. "I want him to get a good view."

A lie. But it made Malik's lip twitch in a grin. Bast, sitting on the other side of the massive golden gate, called across to his compatriot. "Just let them in. We want the lad to get a very good view of the fight today, don't we?"

Whatever silent conversation passed between the males, Arya didn't know. Nor did she really care. "... Is that a yes?"

She fiddled with the strap of her leather pack as she waited for an answer. Finally, Malik turned and pushed open one solid gold door, the ancient engravings of long dead kings shifting in the shadows.

Arya bowed her head in thanks as she passed through. She skirted the great, round courtyard already closed off by simple wooden fencing as she made her way to the Great Accacia. The tree in the middle of the entire city. The tree the Court of Atholos had been built around.

As she reached the place where ancient, massive roots had begun to upturn the sandstone paving, she shrugged off her pack and then her boots. Climbing was best done barefoot. Nagala may kill her that she was wearing her gray climbing clothes for Challenge Day, but how else was she supposed to climb a tree that touched the clouds?

Looking up at the sprawling height of the Acacia only made the feat more daunting. Looking down wasn't an option. With Nandu safely tucked into her pack, she lifted it onto her back once more and began to climb, focusing on each movement one step at a time. One handhold, then another, then a foothold, then another. One at a time. One after the other. Her clothes became scratched and torn. Her calloused hands and feet bled, leaving the rich wood stained with a trail of red. Insignificant pain.

The red rays of Atholos crept through the receding storm clouds by the time she reached the lowest branch.

Yet she continued higher, just until she found one that was thick and sturdy enough for her liking. Though the fact that the branch was about as wide as she was tall didn't help the cold feeling in her stomach. But eventually she resigned to sit down, letting her legs swing down over the edge.

Arya had a mixed relationship with the view.

On one hand, she could see all reaches of the golden city bathed in the red light of Atholos— all the way out to the dry plains beyond the walls. Every blade of distant grass glowed with bloody promise. Every towering sandstone building radiated scarlet. Always a red dawn in the Lion Court of Atholos. And the city had been built knowing that. Built to look like a raging fire every stormbreak. Every twisting building a tongue of flame. Every building impenetrable to fire.

A perfect view, if it wasn't for the thousand-foot drop to the unforgiving sandstone courtyard below.

She didn't want to think about what would happen if she fell.

In the time that it had taken her to climb the tree, the courtyard around the fencing had begun to fill with young males eager to get a good spot. Several took advantage of their larger, stronger beast bodies to push their way to the front. Most of the women had made use of their lion form's wings to perch on the rooftops of nearby buildings or branches of the Acacia.

She was so distracted by the view that she was completely unprepared when a soft, furry body crashed into her side.

"ARYA!" The cub shouted, now definitely awake. "It's CHALLENGE DAY! Do you think we'll get a new king? I wonder what he'd be like! But I do like King Tauren... And what if I want to be king one day? Then I'd have to challenge him!"

Arya couldn't resist a laugh, even after the keeling sensation in her stomach of having nearly been pushed off the edge of the branch. "Yes, I am sure that the high and mighty Nandu would make a brilliant king. But maybe not at ten years old."

His soft brown ears flattened. "I said one day. But I don't really want to be king anyway. No fun in sitting around in the city all day." His jade eyes became determined. "No, one day, I want to become the Lion Court's strongest warrior! I will protect the entire savanna from the snow leopards! And I would go on epic quests to defeat monsters!" He sat down and silted his head thoughtfully. "But at the same time... That day when I got covered in scroll ink and accidentally painted the tombs of my ancestors was pretty fun. Maybe I'm destined to be an artist! Or maybe I could be both... A warrior artist!"

Arya wrapped an arm around him, her hand pale against his chocolate fur. The idea of Nandu falling from this height... She didn't want to think about that. "Well then the world should make way. The elders and everyone who ever wronged you will rue the day that Nandu the warrior artist rises to power!"

Nandu settled down beside her on the branch, staring out towards the distant horizon. His tiny claws sank into the branch as if he wished to pounce straight from the tree and out to the scarlet fields beyond. "Arya, do you think my brother will come and challenge today?"

Something twinged in her stomach. She gently rubbed his shoulder. "Nandu, he's not your brother."

His ears twitched flat. "Are you saying that because he was King Casmir's son, not Pa's, or because he was banished?"

Arya chewed on her lip. "He's not likely to come today," she said instead. "While Challenge Day is the only time that the Banished can try to return, he hasn't tried to come in any of the years since he came of age. He..." She struggled to further explain.

"He probably died in the Outskirts. The wastelands," Nandu finished.

The breath left her. "Nandu...." The words didn't come.

So instead, she scooped him up in her arms and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"Hey— hey—" Nandu squirmed in her arms, but she only held him tighter. "You're—"

The blaring of a great horn silenced the city.

Nandu easily slipped from her arms, and poked his head over the edge of the branch, green eyes bright.

Far down below, King Tauren emerged from the gate into the Acacia.

The king had gone for flair today.

Muscles rippled beneath his golden pelt with each step he took into the sandy clearing. Ivory claws caught the bloody light, as did his red mane, making his throat appear gilded in a wreath of flames. An ebony cloak was draped over his shoulders, billowing behind him as he walked.

King Tauren circled the clearing, taking his time. Each slow, powerful step rallied cheers from the assembled crowds. Copper eyes only glared back down at his subjects. Finally, he concluded his circle at the obsidian throne stationed at the back of the clearing. In one smooth motion he leapt into it and turned, facing his kingdom with stoic expression, ivory claws curling over the seat.

Arya wondered just how much blood those claws would shed today.

She knew very well just how easily those claws had shredded apart the lioness who her mother thought her to be.

Subtly she wrapped her arm around Nandu again. She remembered her first challenge day. She'd been nine. Five years before Nandu had been born. Nagala had forced her to watch as Tauren slew challenger after challenger. Made her watch each gruesome death.

Nagala had wanted her to be afraid. And she was. She was very afraid.

Some part of her envied that Nandu had been protected till now. Another part of her wanted to take him away and protect him for another ten years. Another hundred.

A second horn bellowed. Deep. The sort of horn that made one's stomach drop. That made Arya want to flee and cower in the smallest darkest corner she could find.

The first challenger had arrived.

A brute of a male. Arya recognized him. A general of the Court, one of the best. Until age had made him slow and he'd been cast out into the rain.

Arya had been there, that night. She'd just happened to be by the Court's gate when the male had been thrown out into the sand. She'd been to terrified to move. So she had watched. Watched as King Tauren had carved banishing scars onto the old warrior's flesh.

The general had returned. No doubt to take his revenge.

He still bore those scars. Five long slashes right across his face. The general walked in his lion's body, proudly displaying those marks. 

"I am here," the old general bellowed from the other side of the courtyard, leaping the fence in one easy bound, "to challenge King Tauren for the throne of Atholos!"

Arya couldn't help but mutter, "why else would you be here?"

The male stalked across the courtyard. For having spent years on the Outskirts, he was fit. No bones showed through his tawny pelt. The general stalked right up to the obsidian throne, glaring up at at the king. "Well?" He growled.

The king was bold enough to shift. Right before his challenger. Fur becoming clothes, body arching and twisting into his human form. His red mane became short reddish-golden hair. Copper eyes remained unchanged. He took a golden spear from the guard posted at his side, rose from the dark throne, and stepped right up to the general.

In his human form, Tauren stood at half the general's height. Yet copper eyes stared right into gray ones, unafraid. Bored.

"So be it."

Drums pounded upon the King's declaration.

The drums beat in sync with her heartbeat. Each pound sent shivers down her spine. Each beat became a footstep as the two males circled towards their starting positions.

Nkuru, Tauren's wife, strode out to the center of the courtyard between the bristling males. Every pawsteps she took resonated a strange combination of subordinate and pride.  Arya couldn't help but think how wrong the queen's pure white feathers looked against that dusty clearing. "Today we witness the battle between King Tauren and the Banished Kamau," she announced between the pounding of the drums. "This fight must take place without magic. Without aid. It must be completed by the wit and strength of the contestants alone." She gave a level glance between the two challengers with her garnet eyes. "May the fight for the throne commence."

With a single sweep of those graceful white wings, she was up in the air and out of the way as Kamau instantly barreled towards the King.

Tauren didn't move. Didn't flinch. He stood like a statue with his spear, unmoving against the oncoming gale.

Kamau leapt.

Tauren knelt.

The raised spear carved into Kamau from sternum to stomach.

The old general landed on his paws, breath ragged, the first blood of the day dripping to the sand.

Nandu flinched at her side, ears going flat. Arya pulled him into her lap, and wrapped her arm around him. This time, he didn't resist.

"Are you okay?" she whispered to him.

Nandu curled up further in her lap. "I... I don't feel good."

Arya wished that there was more she could do for him than gently stroke his back as the fight continued.

"You're slow, Kamau. Same reason why I banished you. You should have stayed away." Tauren rose from his crouch, scarlet dripping down the golden shaft and onto his leather gloves. "At least then, you would have lived."

The general's response was to whirl around and lunge again.

This time, the king shifted into his beastial body to meet him.

Claws clashed. Blood sprayed.

Nandu buried his nose into her shirt.

Clumps of bloody fur littered the ground. Scarlet seeped from new gouges running down the general's flank. Light red scratches trailed down Tauren's shoulder.

Blood stained Tauren's ivory claws. And he grinned.

Arya wished that she could turn away as well as the fighting continued.

Teeth sank into flesh. Claws ripped through skin and muscle.

She knew Nagala had wanted her to make Nandu watch. But she couldn't. Not as Tauren threw Kamau to the ground with a powerful swipe. Not as the king stepped forward, rested his bloodstained claws on the general's shoulder, bared his yellow fangs...

A sound, all too much like a snapping twig, echoed throughout the courtyard.

Nandu escaped her grip and retched over the other side of the branch.

King Tauren stepped over the bloody corpse and stalked back to his throne. Somehow the jagged obsidian claws that backed the throne seemed less intimidating than Tauren's ivory ones as he curled them over the seat again, now covered with crimson. "Who's next?"

"That would be me."

Silence greeted the challenger that leapt into the arena.

He casually prowled towards the dark throne. His grayish brown pelt clung to a sickly frame. Green eyes remained set on the king.

"Wait..." Nandu appeared at her side, looking considerably weaker. "Is that...?"

A cold feeling seeped from her stomach, creeping up her bones and chilling her to the core. "Yes," she said. Her voice felt like an echo.

Because she recognized that face. Recognized the coward's scar that ran down his leg. Recognized the jade of his eyes. The ash black of his mane.

Recognized it from the sketches Nagala would draw then hide in a small chest beneath her bed.

"That's him," she whispered. "That's Amaru." She gulped.

"Your brother... He's returned."

~~~~~

Welcome to the world of Daughter of the Storms! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter. If you did, please remember to vote, and I would love to hear your comments!