The grubby, poor woman who’d been praying on the floor screamed at the sight of us. I didn’t have to tell her to leave. She rushed from the Temple, still in bare feet and the robe the priestess had lent her to pray in.
The snake-man stopped at the bottom of the giant statue of Celestia, who waited with both palms pointing down and facing out as if welcoming her human children to embrace her. The man’s bright green and silver mask had come half off his face. His russet-brown hair was rumpled. His tunic and cloak had spots of the cook’s blood on them.
“You would dishonour the goddess, by drawing blood in her Temple?” the man challenged between breaths, gripping the bloody dagger he’d pulled from the cook’s chest.
I stalked closer and pulled my own dagger from my belt. It was much more ornate than his. One of the only gifts my father had ever given me. He’d given it to me on my tenth spring, deeming me a man. “Celestia doesn’t mind when it comes to traitors. Besides, I don’t plan to hurt you—yet.”
The snake-man slunk back until his back was pressed up against the white statue. I thought he might surrender, but then his eyes turned hateful and he gritted out the words, “King Corbin can’t save you.” He took his own blade and ran it across his neck. Blood poured from the gaping wound and he fell back against the beautiful goddess as though she’d accept him. His life had already bled from him by the time I crouched down and checked his heart for a beat. That didn’t go as I’d planned.
Someone cleared their throat. I hadn’t noticed anyone had entered. I rose from the snake man’s body and found my father standing at the door. King Corbin was with him. Both their faces were grim.
“I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty… Father. I was going to arrest him, but he killed himself.”
“He must have held important information he didn’t want us knowing,” King Corbin commented.
“You should’ve stopped him,” my father growled.
“I tried.”
My father didn’t look convinced. How could he have so little faith in me after everything we’d been through?
“No one finds out about this. Go back to the hall. I’ll have someone clean this mess up.” King Corbin’s gaze landed on the blood at the goddess’s feet. His face hardened with disgust before he spun, a swirl of gold and emerald, and left us.
My father grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the Temple. “You reek of wine,” he scolded.
“I was celebrating our dear goddess.”
“We don’t get that luxury. Don’t be foolish. You disappoint me once again, boy.”
Anger bubbled up from inside me. “I’ll deal with the woman! I’ll prove to you I’m no fool.”
I thought he’d argue, but he simply sighed. “Not tonight. In the morning, she’s your responsibility.”
Resolve replaced anger. In the morning, she’d pay for making me look like a fool.
Chapter 5
The lynx-woman no longer wore her mask. She was, however, still in the elegant black gown from the previous night.
I’d risen before the sky was fully light. My head ached from the wine. The fun I’d had for those few moments wasn’t worth the trouble or the pain. I’d make her pay for what she’d done. She was one of them… one of the traitors. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to take off her mask. I stared into her fiery hazel eyes. She wasn’t so pretty behind the mask; an average face on a wretched soul. Her dark hair hung in knots down her back like tangled ropes, evidence of her struggle with the guards. Her painted red lips were chapped with dehydration, but still they curved slightly up at the corners in a taunting manner from where she sat bound to an iron chair.
I circled her, slowly, tapping my dagger against the flat of my palm. Oh, I was going to make her pay dearly for what she’d done. And I was going to enjoy it.
“Why?” I asked, stopping to crouch down so I was at her level.
The woman simply shrugged. “You were stupid enough to follow a stranger away from watchful eyes.”
I grabbed one of her fingers, she couldn’t resist with her wrists tied to the arms of the chair, and carefully slid my blade under one of her neatly filed finger nails. A gasp caught in her throat, but she didn’t scream.
I took my blade over to the fire I’d lit when I arrived at the torture chamber and stuck it in the hungry flames. Satisfied the blade was searing hot, I grabbed a fistful of the traitor’s hair, wrenched her head forward and placed the scalding hot blade on the back of her neck. This time, she let out a howl of pain.
I took the blade away from her skin, leaving it red and blistering, and let go of her hair. “Who do you work for?”
Her raspy breathing was her only answer. She was a tough one. I turned my back to fetch a tool I’d seen my father use to remove teeth from suspects. It wasn’t hard to find on the table scattered with the rest of the horrible devices used for extracting information.
The woman realized what I meant to do and began to pull against her restraints. If her eyes were weapons, I’d have been dead right then and there. “I don’t know,” she hissed.
I set my jaw and gritted out, “How do you not know?”
“Few know the name or face of the one who leads us. We’re given messages—tasks to complete. I’ve said too much.” She pressed her lips together, locking answers away once more.
“Who gives you these tasks? How do you receive the messages?”
She moulded her lips into that mocking smile again, so I put my hands around her face and forced her jaw open. My finger ended up in her mouth and she bit down hard, causing drops of blood to form on my knuckle. I backhanded her across the face. She laughed so I did it again. She laughed louder the second time, like a mad woman. I threw the tool across the chamber. It hit the wall with a metallic clang.
“Terra is unsafe while King Corbin sits on his throne spending his people’s coin. The killing will only stop when the king abolishes his throne, or he’s dead. No one can stop us, especially not a boy like you.” Her lips formed a pleased smirk. That word… the one my father used when he was disappointed in me, I hated it.
“I’m. Not. A. Boy!” A flash of green caught my eye. It had erupted from the dirt floor and was growing quickly toward the woman. The vine was thick and mean with sharp thorns. I let out a laugh as she squirmed in the chair when it curled around her calf and twined upward.
“What is this? Are you doing this?” The smile was gone from her lips. Panic rang clear in her voice.
I could do nothing but watch as the vine slowly wrapped itself around her body and then encircled her long, slim neck.
“Stop! Stop this at once! You need me.” Her eyes widened as the vine tightened, cutting off her breath. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.
I hated her… hated how foolish she’d made me look, how she’d made me feel. I couldn’t let her win. She had to pay.
Her eyes bulged, showing the whites around the hazel irises. Red trickled from the line of green around her neck and down her tan skin. Her head slumped to the side. Dead, I realized she was dead. And I had killed her—with my magic.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I backed up, running into a table and knocking sharp tools to the floor. I’d killed her. She was guilty, but I wasn’t supposed to kill the traitor. That was up to King Corbin to decide. I’d have to answer for my mistake.
I ripped the vines off the woman’s body. They disintegrated like ash in my hands. The marks on her neck were the only evidence of the way her life had ended. No one would know it was magic vines that’d killed her.
I had to get out of there. I had to explain my mistake to King Corbin before my father found out. If I could fix this on my own, maybe I wouldn’t be a complete failure. I was already imagining the disappointment in my father’s hard, brown eyes.
I left the corpse strapped to the chair and bolted for the palace, shutting the door to the torture chamber behind me.
I paced the throne room inside the palace. The matching thrones of wood and go
ld with arms made to look like branches sat empty upon the dais. Heavy green curtains hung over the gold framed windows, blocking out the morning sunlight.
King Corbin entered the throne room with bleary eyes. The gold crown with wide points sat crooked on his freshly combed hair. That sun had barely risen, and last night’s celebrations would have led to a late slumber. The tall, willowy chamberlain, Jacque Leblond, was in tow. He wore a wig of wavy brown hair, each strand placed perfectly. But out of all his features, his long, curved nose stuck out the most. He followed the king around like a shadow.
King Corbin didn’t bother turning to him as he said to the man behind him, “Leave us, Chamberlain.”
Leblond, in his usual sage velvet coat with gold buttons, bowed stiffly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Alone with the king, I bowed deeply, crossing both arms in front of my chest… the terra custom. “Apologies, Your Majesty, if I woke you.” I assumed Queen Nicola was still asleep because she didn’t accompany her husband to receive me.
King Corbin waved a hand. “What’s so important that you demanded to see me so early on this day?” He plopped down on his throne, his pale green and bronze robes crumpling around him.
Right to the point then. No need to be afraid. I squared my shoulders and met the king’s gold-green stare. “I made a mistake, Your Majesty. I was—getting answers from the traitor woman from last night and accidently—um well, I accidently killed her.” I didn’t know if the sick feeling in my stomach was from the wine or from my confession… probably both.
“I see.” King Corbin adjusted himself in his seat. I waited for him to continue. He scratched his silver and tawny beard.
“She did tell me she didn’t know who the leader is. Only that she received tasks in the form of messages.”
“Who gave her the messages?”
I looked at Queen Nicola’s empty throne. “She wouldn’t tell me.” I placed my gaze back on my king. “I apologize—” I began.
The king cut me off. “Listen. Torturing people, it is a type of art. It takes a special kind of person to be able to do it well. Am I wrong?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Was he trying to say I wasn’t the right person for the job? Worry began to seep into my bones. My father’s trade was all I knew. I had to be good at it.
“I’d like to offer you an alternative. Your father would argue my point, but I believe you would be better suited as a soldier in my personal guard.”
“A soldier, Your Majesty?” This was unexpected. I’d never even considered taking up a sword.
King Corbin cleared his throat and said, “Yes, you’ve just shown your ability to kill. I could use a man with your intelligence in my army. Someone to help Constable Bouvant lead my personal guard in this war against the traitors who call themselves The Redeemers.” He spoke the traitors title in a mocking tone. “What say you?”
I lost my tongue for a moment. He was offering me a role alongside Constable Bouvant, a gallant man driven by the cause against the traitors. Would he accept me as an asset? And yet, who was I to refuse my king? My father wasn’t going to like this, but perhaps I would make a good soldier. A wave of excitement washed over me. “Y—yes, Your Majesty. I accept your offer.”
“Good,” replied the burly king with a firm nod. “I’ll inform Constable Bouvant. Be at the training grounds at midday.” He pressed his hands against the arms of his throne, ready to rise.
I bowed again. “Your Majesty.”
I was dismissed.
Excitement and dread mixed together on my way home to tell my father about the conversation I’d just had with our king.
“I knew you’d screw up.” My father’s voice startled me as I quietly crept inside my home. He’d been waiting for my return. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread apart.
“Good day to you too, Father.”
“Don’t be smug. You killed the woman without an order to do so. You should’ve waited for me to watch over you. What did you strangle her with?” His eyes were endless pits of darkness. I’d been afraid of him once, but no longer.
“A rope.” The answer came easily. “Don’t worry. I’ve already informed the king of my mistake. He’s given me a position with his personal guard instead… says I’m more suited for soldierly work.” Our eyes locked. He couldn’t argue against the king, but I saw the rage burning within him.
“You shouldn’t have bothered King Corbin. You’re my responsibility!” He turned away and flexed his hands. “You’ll make an even poorer soldier. Don’t come begging me for your position back when you fail.”
It was my turn to rage. “That’s all I am to you? Your responsibility?”
“Get out.” He pointed at the door.
I was so angry, I was shaking. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving. Who’d want to remain here with such an unloving father?”
I could tell he winced at the word ‘father’ even with his back turned to me.
I didn’t need him or his poor hospitality anymore. I was a soldier now.
Chapter 6
Constable Bouvant met me with a group of the king’s most trusted soldiers, who introduced themselves to me at the training grounds.
“We’re glad to have you fighting with us.” The weathered but tough constable slapped me on the back. “As long as you remember I’m in charge.”
“Yes, of course, sir.”
“Good, now stand before us and swear on Celestia you will remain loyal to us, your new family, and to your kingdom, until death or your release from service. You will fight and risk your own life for the safety of The Guard and this kingdom.”
Pairs of eyes watched me, waiting for their new comrade to make the unbreakable oath they’d each made themselves.
I was already loyal to my kingdom. I was ready to fight and kill and die for Terra. I hadn’t proved a worthy torturer. I promised myself I’d be a worthy soldier. I nodded. “I swear on Celestia I will remain loyal to this army… to this kingdom, until my dying day. I will fight and I will die protecting Terra and its people.”
Approval stared back at me on the faces of my comrades as they each slapped their own chests with their right hand, a sign of respect.
“Your first duty,” the constable said, “is to learn how to properly fight with a sword.” He chucked a wooden sword at me.
I caught it. “You’d have me use a child’s toy?” I asked incredulously.
“I have no knowledge of your experience. We all start at the bottom.”
“Fine,” I muttered. This morning I was using daggers and magic, now I was forced to use a weapon made of wood.
“Gerard, you train with Sepheus,” the constable handed another wooden sword to a soldier with straight brown hair, which was long enough it had to be tied back off his face.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.
“Call me Seph,” I said to my opponent.
He cocked his head to the side and gave me a big, yellow-toothed grin. “And you can call me Ger.” He smashed his play-sword against mine, almost knocking it out of my hands.
I scowled at him for not giving me the chance to get ready and swung back. I lost my balance and fell face first to the ground. I spit out a mouthful of dirt and pushed myself back up.
Ger laughed, though not cruelly like my father would’ve. He didn’t move to strike again until I had my feet under me.
I blocked his next attack. I wasn’t completely useless with a sword. My father had taught me how to use every weapon… he just hadn’t focused much on sword fighting.
We circled each other, striking and parrying, trying to force the other into a position that would have him dead in real life.
Ger bested me every time. It was obvious I wasn’t ready to fight with a real blade. I wanted to prove my worth so badly, but it ended up being my downfall. I fought with too much emotion.
Constable Bouvant called for us to halt when I was beaten, bruised and gasping for air.
Ger lowered his sword and h
eld out his calloused hand. I glared at his outstretched arm but he kept his hand open until I shook it. “You put up a good fight. It was your first day. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” His smile caused the skin around his eyes to crinkle in the corners.
I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or not so I shrugged and turned my back on him.
“We meet again tomorrow, same time. Go get yourselves a good meal and some ale,” Constable Bouvant said to all of us.
I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t have a home or coin to pay for a meal. I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I’d let my father kick me out. I didn’t even know where I’d be spending the night.
My thoughts were interrupted by a heavy arm slung across my shoulders. “Coming with us?” It was Ger. Apparently he wasn’t offended by my dismissal of his praise. “We always go to The Watering Hole after training.”
“No I—” I tried to think of an excuse, but Ger interrupted me.
“Nonsense. You’re coming. Ale’s on me this time.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t really want the ale after last night’s events, but perhaps I could nab some food while I was there. My empty stomach agreed.
The tavern was dimly lit, with no windows, only candles and torches for light. Serving wenches wearing beige and dark green poured ale and carried food to low, square tables around the tavern, bosoms almost spilling out as they leaned forward to flirt with their customers.
The guards at our table laughed and knocked cups of ale together. I slowly sipped the foamy, pale gold liquid. I didn’t know how to act. Groups had never been my forte. Hell, people had never been my forte.
Ger indicated the empty space on the table before me, chewing on the drumstick of a roasted chicken loudly. “Aren’t you starving? We trained hard today.”
I hoped my silence would make him leave me alone, but he pressed further. “What’s wrong? Worried about getting fat?”
The other guards laughed. A man sitting across from me, who had to be twice my age, pulled a serious face. “You need to keep up your strength, lad.”
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