by Jones, Heath
“Nicaelin steel is stronger than any other,” she continues, resuming her lecture. “These blades have been crafted by some of the greatest smiths in the world.” She nods to Karam who pulls a scarf out of his pocket. A silk scarf. Storm holds one of the knives out, point extended, towards him. He drops the scarf onto it and the silk parts cleanly when it touches the blade.
“The blades are sharp, and they are deadly,” Storm says, emphasising the obvious. “Now you will learn to fight with a knife. But you will begin without a knife.”
I stare at her, confused. What does that mean?
“You will dip your hands in the paint,” Storm explains. “Then I will pair you together and you will use your hands as though they were knives. You will try and mark your opponent with the paint on your hands while trying to avoid being marked yourself. Don’t think this is just a game. Every mark of paint you receive is like the slash of a knife. A dab of paint here,” she points to her chest, “and your lungs empty. Or a line here,” she touches her neck, “and you will bleed to death.”
“That is how you must think of it,” Karam adds. “Otherwise you will learn nothing.”
Nodding obediently, we dip our hands into the paint. There are eight different colours, one for each of us. My colour is yellow.
Storm pairs us off. Aveline is my first opponent. “I’ll time you then you will go onto your next opponent,” Storm says. “Begin!”
When we start, I find it difficult to attack a friend. Aveline though doesn’t have the same problem as she launches herself at me again and again. Thankfully, my evasive skills keep me from being marked by her green paint. We circle each other, looking for openings, but mostly just waving our arms in the air.
“Stop,” Storm calls out. “That was pathetic. All of you. Look at yourselves. I mean, really look! Not one of you has marked your opponent. You’re all dancing around each other like drunken sailors. Dain! Come here.”
Dain, his hand covered in red paint, stands in front of her. Storm dips her own hands in the black paint. “Attack me!” she orders.
Dain lunges quickly at her. Storm twists and evades his outstretched arm then whips her own hand out and back again. They do this several times. Sometimes Storm ducks, other times she twists or jumps completely out of the way. Finally, she steps away from him. “Now look at us.”
To my surprise, Dain is completely covered in black paint. His arms, chest, legs, even his cheeks and neck have paint on them. Amazingly, Storm doesn’t have a single drop of red paint on her. Dain looks at the paint covering him, bewildered.
“This is what I want to see,” she says. “Engage each other. Strike each other. Move fast. When you see an opening to strike – don’t hesitate! Now try again.”
And we do. This time when Aveline comes at me I duck under her arm and run my hand across her ribs before coming up behind her. She turns and tries to strike me, but I block her arm then put my hand into her back. We break apart and circle each other. Aveline rushes in again but I step to the side and copy one of the moves I saw Storm do to Dain. As she stretches out her arm I jump around and reach over her arm and wipe my painted hand on her face.
“Stop. New partners,” Storm calls out. She rearranges us and we start again.
This time I face Miya. Compared to Aveline she is easy. She isn’t as fast as Aveline and doesn’t rush in with as much force. But she swings her arms with everything she has, and when I try to block her arm it knocks my hand away and she marks me on the shoulder.
Jarryd, his face tense with concentration, is the easiest. I’m surprised at how difficult it is for him to coordinate his movements. He tries his best and I feel like I ought to let him mark me, just to make him feel better. But then I realise I would hate it if someone did that to me simply out of pity.
Rose is cautious and we spend most of our time watching each other and parrying, not willing to lose to the other. Then I pair with Alek. For someone who has been so disinterested in everything since we left Farley, he comes to life now. He lunges and attacks with vigour. There is a spark in his eyes again, almost like the old Alek. But not quite. Although he’s full of energy, he’s still not the same as he was. For one thing, he has no problems hitting me. Hard. So I have to be lighter on my feet and quicker to evade him.
We switch partners again and this time I have Theolin. Like me, she doesn’t have much paint on her. But I have less, and it makes me confident. The realisation that I am doing better than the others gives me an exultant rush. Storm calls out for us to start and immediately I jump in and brush my hand against Theolin’s face before she can react to my movement.
I can’t believe how easy that was! I’ve always known I was well balanced and quick, but this… I know it’s not a game, but I am excited to be doing so well.
Unfortunately, I don’t notice the look in Theolin’s eyes until it is too late. I see her fist coming but I can’t do anything about it. She connects with my nose and I fall backward, landing on my back. I cry out in a combination of pain and frustration. Pulling my hands away from my nose they are covered in blood.
Storm watches us with an amused smile before ordering us to change partners again. This time I am with Dain.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
His concern irritates me. “I’m fine,” I snap back at him.
He comes in at me slowly, as though he doesn’t want to hurt me further. Does he think I’m weak? Or that I can’t handle a bit of blood from my nose? I slip to the side of his next condescendingly soft attack then slap him hard across the face, smearing it with paint.
Dain glares at me. “What was that for?”
“For not trying,” I reply.
He comes at me again, this time a little faster. But he is still not really trying. So I duck under his arm and slap him on the back of his head.
He whirls on me, his face growing angry. “I’m trying to be nice,” he growls.
“I don’t need you to be,” I answer.
This time he attacks me properly, and, I don’t know why, but I enjoy it. I delight in being able to deflect him, move to the side, avoid being hit. I feel like I can control where he moves and force openings for my own hands to strike.
He growls again, this time in a way I haven’t heard from him before. Then his shoulder slams into my chest and he tackles me to the ground.
“Hey!” I yell, outraged, banging my fists on his back. But my protest ends there as he covers my mouth with his hand, smearing paint and blood all over my face.
“Wash yourselves off,” Storm orders, signalling an end to the pretend knife fighting. We upend a small barrel of water over ourselves and the paint washes off.
“What did you learn?” Storm asks once we are clean but still soaking wet.
“He cheated,” I accuse Dain. I’m still angry at him for tackling me.
Storm’s eyebrows raise. “How does someone cheat in a knife fight?”
“He tackled me. It wasn’t fair.”
“I didn’t realise there were rules,” Storm says sarcastically. “Best you agree them with the person who’s trying to kill you next time.”
I’m simmering now with anger. It wasn’t fair! How can I stand against the strength of someone like Dain? It’s not possible.
“Although in fairness,” Storm says to Dain, “she killed you at least five times before you tackled her. Perhaps you’d be better spending your energy learning to move rather than relying on strength alone.”
Storm turns her attention back to me and throws me a piece of cloth. “For your nose,” she says, a smile touching her lips.
Then I remember Theolin’s punch and the pain comes flooding back to me. Putting the rag to my nose I take it away to see that it is covered in blood.
I wake up, coughing and spitting out water. Sitting up I see Jondar pouring buckets of water over the others. “Outside,” he commands.
Light filters in through the open door – it is still daylight. I am exhausted – it feels like I’ve
only just fallen asleep.
Walking wearily out of the hut, we follow Jondar down the tree. “How long were we asleep for?” Miya asks him.
“Less than an hour,” Jondar replies, a small smile on his face. It is the first time I have seen him smile.
Storm and Karam are waiting for us in a glade by the river. “Some things you must learn in the dark,” she says. “But you can’t sleep the day away for the rest of your lives. And the sun can be your enemy if you’re not used to it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The sun will sap your strength,” she replies. “And the hotter it is, the faster your strength will fail you. Unless you are prepared.”
So she makes us run. Jondar leads while Storm and Karam follow behind us, forcing a hard pace. I thought I was a good runner, but this is relentless. Mile after mile we run, following the course of the river. No trees grow on the rocky – or at times, sandy - riverbank, allowing the sun to beat down mercilessly on us. Storm was right – the heat of the sun takes its toll. My lungs burn and sweat pours off me. Still we run.
Jarryd is flagging badly and stumbles. Karam helps him up but a few moments later he falls again. Karam tries to pick him up once more but it is clear Jarryd has nothing left in him. Karam looks up at Storm and shakes his head.
“Keep going,” she commands us.
I’m worried about Jarryd. After agreeing to train us, Storm, Jondar, and Karam have treated us well. But I don’t know what they – or the rest of the assassins in the village - will do to someone like Jarryd who isn’t very good at this training. There is no time to think though, as Jondar pushes us on, while Karam stays behind with Jarryd.
We’re all struggling. Miya, Rose, and Aveline are panting hard. Their faces are red and, like me, their run has become more of a rolling stumble. Even Dain, who carried Rose on his back to Tolos, is bent over, working hard for each breath. Only Theolin seems to be unaffected. Her face is set, determined, following in Jondar’s footsteps.
With Jondar leading, I can’t see his face. But looking back occasionally I do see Storm’s. She’s sweating, of course, but otherwise she seems to be enjoying herself and is running easily.
My legs feel like they’re made of lead and my stomach wants to empty itself. Slowly, I begin to fall behind the others.
“Keep up Sara,” Aveline calls quietly to me. “I know it’s hard. We’ll run together.”
So I force myself to pick up my pace and run side by side with Aveline.
We must have been forced to run for half of the day. I noticed the shadows shorten as the sun moved overhead, then lengthen again in the other direction. When we finally arrive back at the clearing below the huts, I’m dizzy and ready to faint.
“Drink,” Karam orders us.
He is standing next to the fallen tree trunk and there is a barrel full of water next to him. Jarryd is standing beside him, but I barely notice him. Greedily I rush over and dunk my head in, drinking all I can. More than I can. I push myself away from the barrel and vomit everything back out again before falling to the ground, exhausted.
“But don’t drink too quickly,” Karam says, the beginnings of a smile touching his face. The others quickly have their fill of water too, then either sit or fall to the ground.
“Alright, up the tree. One at a time,” Storm commands. “Sara, you went for the water first, so you climb first.”
Wearily I push myself back up. My arms are shaking as I climb, and my legs feel weighted down with stones.
“Stop,” Storm commands. “Now drop to the ground.”
Drop? She can’t really mean it - I’m over ten feet off the ground. “It’s too high,” I say.
Storm whips her hand towards me, and I see a glint of light reflecting off steel. I push away from the tree and am still falling when I hear the thud of the knife as it strikes the tree. I hit the ground hard and roll on my shoulders. I end up in on my hands and knees, looking at Storm. Another blur of movement and I fling myself sideways, rolling again, hearing the knife as it whooshes past my head. This time I come up into a crouch, waiting for the next knife to come. Instead, Storm gives me the barest of smiles.
“Theolin,” she calls out. “You’re up.”
As Theolin stalks over to the tree, I look up and see the first knife Storm threw at me. Everything had happened so quickly that the knife is still quivering in the tree.
That night we sit, exhausted, as we eat our dinner. The meal, like the others we have eaten here, is simple. A stew with some tough, stringy meat mixed with peas and carrots. It has no taste to it – and I haven’t dared to ask what animal the meat is from - but it does replenish our strength.
Next to me, Dain arches his back. “My muscles are aching,” he says.
“I know what you mean,” I say, smiling ruefully. He returns my smile briefly, but it is forced. I’ve known him long enough to know that something is weighing him down.
He looks at me and our eyes lock. I know he wants to say something, but he is uncharacteristically quiet. Then he lowers his eyes down to his bowl, stirring the food without eating it.
“You’re doing well at this,” he says suddenly.
I shrug my shoulders. “We all are.”
“But you’re excelling, Sara,” he says. “You have a purpose, and that’s helping you.”
“I will do whatever I must to save my father,” I say. “If that means killing the emperor, then so be it.”
“I know,” he says.
He falls into silence again, staring into his bowl. I can tell he is hesitant to tell me what is troubling him. So I remain quiet, waiting.
“I remember,” he says at last, “the moment Bree’s hand slipped from mine.” He takes a breath, his eyes focused now on the past. “Every night I see her in my dreams, carried away by the river. She doesn’t scream, she doesn’t cry out. She just slowly disappears. I wake up feeling the emptiness in my hand where I held her… then let her go.”
“Oh Dain,” I say, my heart breaking for him. I can hear the pain in his voice, and finally realise the weight he has been carrying is guilt, angry at myself for not seeing it sooner. But then, we’ve spent so little time together since Tolos, how could I notice it? Actually, I’m surprised he is confiding in me and not Rose. But he is, and he needs me, so I grip his hand in mine. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” he says, his voice forceful. “It was the Peace Bringers who killed her. And it is Tigranik who commands them.” He turns his gaze to me. “I thought your idea of joining Storm and training to be assassins was just a clever plan to keep us alive. But watching you, and learning from Storm, from Karam… I’ve found my purpose here. I know what it’s like to have someone’s life slip out of my hands. Nobody else should have to experience that. I want to end this war and the senseless suffering. The only way to do that is to kill Tigranik. I owe Bree that much.”
I want to say more, but our conversation is interrupted. Storm, Karam, and Jondar enter our circle carrying bowls of their own, then sit with us. It is the first time they – or anyone from this village - have joined us to eat. In fact, other than these three, I haven’t had interacted with anyone else who lives here amongst the trees – none of us has.
“You all look tired,” Storm says. The trace of a wry smile touches her lips.
“You could have killed us today,” Theolin accuses.
Storm shrugs her shoulders. “I knew where I was throwing my knives. You all did well.”
“Most of us did,” Jarryd says quietly. He is sitting opposite me and I can see the disappointment in his eyes. But at least he is alright. Surprisingly, I’m incredibly thankful that he is alright.
“You’re right,” Storm answers him. “You couldn’t keep up with the rest of us.”
“And you didn’t ask me to climb,” he adds bitterly.
“There was a risk with the others that they may break a leg in the fall. With you there was no doubt. I didn’t want that.”
Anger flashes
briefly across Jarryd’s face. He tries to stand but Karam grabs his arm and forces him back down. Our attention is all on Jarryd now, and I’m suddenly fearful. Storm has openly told him he’s not good enough - what will they do to him?
“There is no shame in it,” Karam says.
“Really?” Jarryd replies. “This coming from someone who can physically do anything.”
“And what have you seen me do?” Karam replies.
“You can run, for starters,” Jarryd answers.
“Yes, I can run. And I have a good memory for plants and herbs. But what else have you seen me do?”
“You can…” Jarryd stops, clearly trying to think what else he has seen Karam do.
I’m racking my brain too. It was Jondar and his men who captured us. Storm is our teacher. Karam… what does he do? There must be something other than his talent for poisons. Maybe, with his size and strength, he specialises in the sword or unarmed fighting. There must be something – Storm never goes anywhere without him.
“You tell me?” Jarryd says. “Storm sees you as her personal bodyguard, so there must be something.”
“No,” Storm interrupts, “you see Karam as my bodyguard. Thankfully, so does everyone else.”
“What… what do you mean?” Jarryd asks.
“Not everything is as it appears,” Karam says. “Storm is the dangerous one, not me.”
My jaw drops at his admission. We all know Storm is in charge, and she is certainly dangerous, but surely Karam is even more so.
“When Karam and I are in a city or a town,” Storm says, “who do you think people notice?”
“Karam,” I answer.
“Exactly, and that is what he is supposed to do. His presence keeps people away from me,” Storm explains.