Gorgoroth (Haladras #2)

TWO

The Princess Shahra Hira Minka shot open her eyes and glared at her serving wench. She could have whipped the girl until the flesh tore away from her back.

"I'm sorry, my lady...sorry," the girl whimpered, as she scrambled with trembling fingers to collect the pieces of the shattered chamber pot she had just dropped onto the floor.

What a clumsy, incompetent...Calm yourself, Shahra. You must focus.

Killing before a fight would only wreck her nerves, cause a premature surge of adrenaline. No, she must refrain from punishing her wench. For now, her energy must be focused on more important matters. She would whip her serving wench another day.

The princess inhaled a slow, measured breath, closed her eyes, and resumed her meditation.

Within a few hours, her first Trial would commence. She must not do anything which might cause her to fail it. Today marked the first day of a month-long test of her worthiness to assume her rank as princess and one day become Empress. No ruler of Gorgoroth may hope to gain the support of her people, armies, chieftains, and warlords without having proven herself. The Trials would test her strength, endurance, willpower, military prowess, and ability to fight. And fight she must...and kill, or be killed herself.

The Trials began and ended with a fight to the death. She'd killed before—many times. This time her opponent would not be a mere slave. No, her challenger would be a great warrior. One worthy to fight her. One accepted by the people. One who sought for power. For indeed, to defeat the heir to the throne in open combat would secure the champion great stature and prominence.

Soon she would meet her challenger. She must be ready. For once she entered that arena, nothing but her own skill would protect her. Not even her own mother, the empress, would stay her opponent's blade. The empress would watch her daughter die without so much as lifting a finger to stop it.

She must focus.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Let her mind slip into that state between conscious and unconscious, where the body has no control over the mind. There she stayed, reviewing the many lessons her master had taught her.

An hour passed before the princess once again opened her eyes. This time is was not her serving wench who brought her back, but her own sense that the time for meditation had passed. Gradually, she glided out of her semi-dream state, allowing her senses to adjust to the flood of restored sensory data. Inexperienced meditators often sabotaged the effects of their meditation by doing so. The raw heightened awareness must be carefully mixed with the brain's conscious senses.

Mechanically, she turned her head from side to side as she scanned her room. It was empty. Her serving wench had evidently left her chamber sometime during her meditations. Now that she needed the wench, she was gone. No matter. She would not permit herself to grow perturbed. Not at the expense of her heightened mental state.

In one sinuous movement, she rose from her spot on the floor where only a small rug provided any comfort from the cold stones beneath her. She walked over to the side of her bed, and pulled the flaxen cord which hung over her night table. Ordinarily she would count the number of seconds it took her serving wench to respond. She enjoyed threatening the girl with a beating any time she took longer than one hundred and eighty seconds to arrive. A pleasure she must forgo today.

Instead, she turned her attention to her knife. It was stowed away in a small wooden box, which she kept atop her night table. The blade always brought her some measure of comfort. She had fought with it many times. A trusted companion. Again today, she would carry it at her side. Though not her primary weapon, She often resorted to it. Most opponents did not expect it. The blood of many skilled slave fighters had been spilled by it.