by Jones, Heath
“Just because I don’t want to see you die, Fairgrey, doesn’t mean I want to be your friend.” She glances at my hand in disdain then leaves me behind as she calmly makes her way to Storm.
I don’t mind that Theolin has beaten me, or that she still doesn’t like me. I’m just grateful she chose to save me.
Back in our hut, while it is still dark, I lie staring up at the wooden beams. Even though I’m exhausted I can’t sleep - my brush with death has made me restless. Eventually realising I’m not going to sleep, I decide to go for a walk instead. Just as I’m about to get up a shape obscures the door. Karam is standing outside and he beckons me to follow him. I’m confused. What does he want with me? Before I can move though, Jarryd gets up from beside me and disappears outside with Karam.
So Karam was actually beckoning to Jarryd? Why? Curious, I sneak out of the hut and follow them.
Keeping my distance, I follow them up some steps and over a bridge until they enter another hut. I wait for a while to make sure they aren’t coming out again. There are no other huts near this one, and at this hour of the night – or morning – no one else is around. Slowly, making as little sound as possible, I creep up to the hut, put my ear to the wall, and listen to the voices speaking inside.
“I know you’re frustrated,” Karam is saying, “but you are doing well.”
“No, I’m not,” Jarryd replies, the irritation clear in his voice. “I’m failing everything.”
“Out there, yes,” Karam replies. “But that’s not where your abilities lie. Nor mine.”
There is silence for a moment, and I push my ear harder against the wall.
“I know,” Jarryd agrees. “But it’s not easy. Everyone is getting better except me. And Aveline is outpacing them all except for Sara.”
I’m surprised he has noticed so much – especially about me – when I would have thought he’d be consumed with his own struggles.
“We’re not athletes Jarryd,” Karam says. “Our skills are different. It’s not always important how fast or strong you are. You need strength of heart and mind, not strength of arm and leg. They can help of course, but without your mind, and without your heart, the rest doesn’t amount to much. You have to embrace your differences if you want to be of use to the others.”
“You’re right,” Jarryd replies after another silence.
“I know I am,” Karam replies with a laugh. “So,” he continues, his voice serious again, “let’s continue. You are perceptive of others – you already know instinctively how someone is feeling. You need to hone that skill and use it all the time. Danger can be anywhere. You have to know what to look for and keep your eyes open for it.”
There is movement from inside and I’m about to jump away but I hear Karam’s voice again. “Sly eyes, or shifty eyes. Eyes that dwell just a little too long on you or your accomplices. Or eyes that never look at you, yet their owner uncannily stays a discreet distance behind you. Hands that hover near their belt might be concealing a knife. Strong knuckles here that protrude more than the others tell you of a fist used to striking.”
There is silence again and more movement. “A figure walking towards you through a crowd could be ready to plunge a blade into your heart. Eyes peering down from a rooftop could be followed by an arrow in your back. A proffered cup could be laced with poison. A fallen tree across your path could be a planned ambush. Danger is everywhere. And everything you learn, everything your friends learn, can be used against you by another. But you. Your job is to see that danger before it can harm them. It doesn’t matter that all you need to do is whisper what you’ve seen to someone else. Let them deal with the danger. That’s their job. Your job is to find it!”
So this is why Karam summoned Jarryd. He’s been teaching Jarryd how to be… like him. A protector. And he thinks Jarryd will be good at it. For some reason, I’m happy about that and proud of Jarryd. Karam talked about having a strong heart and a strong mind. Jarryd has certainly shown both in his persistence. But having these lessons after our normal ones must exhaust him.
Leaving them to their lessons, I hope I will find sleep back in the hut. Walking back across the bridge I’m surprised to see Storm sitting on the railing, twirling a knife in her hand. She wasn’t here earlier.
“Which do think is harder?” Storm asks as I draw level with her.
“What do you mean?”
She lifts her face towards me. “Your role or Jarryd’s?”
“I… I’m not sure what you mean,” I reply. Surely she couldn’t have seen me eavesdropping. These paths were empty when I followed Jarryd and Karam.
“You know exactly what I mean,” she says. Surprisingly, her voice is kind, and she even offers me a brief glimpse of a smile. “The role of an assassin is to take a life. The role of a protector like Jarryd is to keep a life safe – an assassin’s life. Which do you think is more difficult?”
I’m about to answer that my role is more difficult. There is more danger involved and I am the one who will do the killing. But something about her words makes me pause. She is watching me, her eyes boring into my own, as though searching for something. It is unsettling.
Then I understand what she is asking. Jarryd’s task may be less dangerous, but he has the responsibility of protecting someone he knows. And possibly likes. And yet… that someone is an assassin, charged with taking the life of another. So Jarryd must protect me – and Aveline and the others - so we can kill someone else.
“I… I don’t think I know,” I answer. And truthfully I don’t.
Storm turns her attention back to her knife. “Good,” she replies.
The days turn into weeks until eventually we have been in the assassin’s forest for nearly two months. That makes two and a half months since fleeing Tolos. Two and a half months of siege that Father has had to endure. He thought they could hold out for six months, possibly more. That leaves me about three more months to kill Tigranik and end the war. And save Father’s life.
The others learn Jarryd’s secret soon after I do. While we practice with Storm and Jondar, Jarryd stays in the village to learn from Karam. Karam with his height and bulging muscles, straight back and bald head looks every inch a warrior. Jarryd, however, his unruly brown hair nearly covering his eyes, is thin with barely any muscles to speak of – he is easily dismissed as a physical threat. The two of them couldn’t look more different. Except for their eyes. Theirs are eyes that don’t miss a thing. Quick eyes, sharp eyes. Eyes that weigh and judge. But they are also eyes that discern and understand. It is strangely reassuring to know Jarryd is learning how to be our protector.
For the rest of us, the practice grows steadily tougher. For knife fighting, Storm ties our dominant arm behind us, forcing us to use our weaker side. I am clumsy trying to block or attack with my left hand and initially it even affects my balance. But I adjust quickly and am soon moving as smoothly and naturally as normal – only the use of the wooden knife in my weak hand is impaired. As we grow more coordinated with our weak hands, Storm teaches us how to fight with a knife in both hands. She even graduates us to using knives made from real Nicaelin steel.
Much to Theolin’s delight, Storm finally teaches us how to throw a knife. But before we start to throw an actual knife, we must learn the proper way to grip one for throwing. Only then does she instruct us on how to throw. Surprisingly Dain, Alek, and Jarryd find this more difficult than us girls. As Storm explains it, the motion for throwing a knife isn’t quite the same as it is for throwing stones, which the boys are used to. Before long we are all using the technique Storm teaches us and are pitching our wooden knives at our painted targets.
When we’ve mastered the wooden knives, Storm allows us to throw a real knife. Throwing knives are thinner than the knives we use for fighting, but just as sharp - something Miya finds out with her first attempted throw. As she brings her arm down and lets the knife fly, she lets out a piercing cry as blood begins to spurt from her hand. Before Miya can clutch her injured han
d with her good one, Storm already has it in hers.
“Jondar!” Storm calls out, and he rushes over. “Get this fixed up quickly.” She watches Jondar lead Miya away with a look of concern mixed with… is it relief?
The rest of us continue practicing. Alek proves surprisingly deft, especially at longer distances. My throws aren’t the best, but I am satisfied that they all hit the target in its painted chest.
Returning to our hut we find out how bad Miya’s injury is.
“My finger is sliced to the bone,” she says. “Even without this bandage, I can’t bend my finger.” She holds her hand up with the middle two fingers heavily bandaged.
“The tendon is cut,” Jondar explains. “She won’t be able to hold a knife for a couple of weeks. After that…” he shrugs his shoulders.
“Rest for the remainder of the night, Miya,” Storm says. “Karam will take the others out.”
“No,” Miya replies fiercely. “I may not be able to hold a knife, but nothing is stopping me from learning about poisons.”
Storm regards her for a moment before nodding her assent.
We follow Karam down into the forest where he sets us his usual task of gathering the plants and herbs he describes. As always, he doesn’t tell us if we have the right ones or not. I thought he would eventually tell us when we are right and when we are wrong, but after two months of his consistent lack of feedback, I am beyond frustrated. I want to know if I’m picking the right plants! How am I supposed to know if I have the right ones if Karam, the expert in poisons, won’t tell me? I may never get close enough to Tigranik to put a knife into him, so poisoning him is a very real option. But I need to know if I’m identifying the right plants.
So instead of leaving the plants I’ve collected with Karam, I put a small sample into my pocket as well: snowbark and agail leaves. Or at least what I hope are snowbark and agail leaves. If Karam won’t confirm when we’ve selected the right plants, then there is only one way to find out.
We are exhausted when we return to our hut and thankfully the others all fall quickly asleep. When I’m sure that I’m the only one left awake, I sit up and take the snowbark leaf out of my pocket. It’s hard to believe that a leaf that doesn’t look too much different from any other can be so deadly. But I guess that’s the way of most living things. After all, I don’t look all that different from anyone else yet I’m becoming a well-trained assassin.
Next, I take out the agail leaf – it is the antidote for snowbark. Other than the way the veins in the leaf swirl around each other, there is nothing else to indicate this leaf can save someone’s life. I stare at the agail leaf for a long time, remembering everything Karam has taught, making sure I have the right leaf.
Then, taking a deep breath, I put the snowbark leaf in my mouth. I chew it and swirl it around. Karam said it doesn’t have any noticeable taste and he’s right. So I swallow it and wait to feel its effects.
It doesn’t take long. Karam said this was a fast-acting poison and he wasn’t exaggerating. Very quickly I feel my heart beating abnormally in my chest. My breathing grows laboured. My throat tightens up and my stomach wants to heave. Panicking, I try to put the agail leaf in my mouth, but my hands have lost control of their muscles and the leaf falls to the ground. Terror grips me and I try to shout, to wake someone else so they can help me, but no sound comes out - my tongue won’t even move. I lose control of all my muscles and fall back to the floor.
Gasping for each breath, my vision begins to cloud over - I know I’m about to die.
“I knew she kept some,” a voice says angrily.
Footsteps sound around me, and I’m lifted up off the ground.
“Force this into her,” the voice – Karam’s – says.
Rough hands open my mouth and pour something in. I feel myself swallow. Everything around me is going black. I can’t even hear the voices anymore. What have I done to myself? Father, I’m sorry…
I open my eyes with a start, and immediately my stomach heaves and I vomit. A racking cough seizes me and I vomit again.
When the coughing stops, I look around. I’m still in the hut. Everyone is awake and their eyes are all boring into me. Karam is standing over me, watching me disapprovingly.
“Stupid girl,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can say. It brings on another fit of coughing.
“Lucky for you, Karam watches you all like a hawk,” Storm says from the doorway.
“I knew you’d kept some of the leaves so I had the antidote ready. Stupid girl,” Karam says again.
“How else was I to know if I had the right leaves when you never tell us?” I say. Even to my own ears my voice sounds pathetic.
Karam merely grunts. “You won’t have anyone to hold your hand when you’re trying to slip the poison to your victim. So you practice now. You learn for yourself by picking the plant over and over again. Not by tasting it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Grunting, Karam stalks out.
“Remember, Karam is a protector,” Storm says when he has gone. “Not just for me. It’s who he is. And he doesn’t want to see any of you children come to any harm. Be thankful for him,” she adds, staring at me. “I know I am.”
After my humiliation with the poison, I am determined to try even harder. Our lessons continue, but over the next couple of weeks, Miya stays behind more often than not. She still learns poisons and antidotes from Karam but shows no real interest in knives or other weapons. Her bandage is off now but she can barely move her fingers. Perhaps she figures poison is her best chance of avenging Bree?
We are all sitting outside our hut, eating a bland dinner of rabbit stew when Storm, Karam, and Jondar approach us. Normally they let us finish our dinner before beginning our nightly lessons.
“You’ve been here for over two months now,” Storm tells us. “You’ve trained hard and all of you are growing very accomplished in your skills.”
Did I really hear that? Did Storm just compliment us? Or is she merely cushioning the blow she’s about to deliver? Is she going to say we’re getting better, but we’re not good enough? Or just that I’m not good enough? She looks sombre, so there must be some bad news about to come.
“If you want to finish your training,” Storm continues, “it’s time you understand everything about the assassins of Daishen Forest. Follow me.”
What does she mean by that? I exchange a confused look with Dain but obediently we all follow her. She leads us up higher into the trees, to a place in the tree village I haven’t been before. We follow her along a series of paths, then over a small bridge. A man standing at the far end of the bridge steps aside to lets us pass. The way he watches us makes me think he is a guard. But what could he be guarding? We pass over another bridge and Storm stops. In front of us are about twenty huts all built around a small, sunken platform. This area is completely isolated – the only way in or out is the way we have just come.
Men and women sit huddled around the platform in their cloaks. They all look… lifeless. Others, obviously servants of some kind, are walking amongst them, offering food or drink. Some of the servants are sitting by the miserable, pitiful looking creatures, speaking to them. But none of them speak back.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Assassins,” Storm replies.
My head whips around to her. “What?” I ask, echoed by Aveline and Theolin.
“Taking someone’s life changes you,” Storm says. Her voice is quiet, sad. “That change is never for the good. You never know what change will be brought about in you, or how profound it will be, until it has already occurred. Often, after their first mission is complete, our assassins return like this. Broken. The dream of easy money or the supposed delicious taste of vengeance is quickly shattered. Along with the assassin’s spirit. Not knowing what else to do, they return to us.”
“Surely not everyone though,” I protest. “Not every assassin would end up like this.”
“No, not
all,” Storm agrees. “Some relish the taste of blood. They stay in the outside world and continue their work. But they too are changed. A part of who they are, of what makes them human, dies each time they take another’s life. Eventually, though they never realise it, they are no more than alive than their victims.”
“But… the assassins of Daishen Forest are the most feared in the world!” Aveline says. “I don’t understand.”
“Just because we are feared doesn’t mean we are less prone to human frailties.”
“But not you,” Theolin says. “You’re not broken like them.”
Storm glances at Karam and smiles wryly. “Not now. But I was close. I was just lucky I had a good protector.”
“Then why train them?” I ask. “If you know what will happen, why train them?”
“I train them because I know what will happen,” Storm says. “Life is precious – something learned too late by those desiring to be assassins. But learn it they do. Those who choose this path and wish to be trained need someone to teach them. I teach them, and they know that I will always welcome them back if they need… help. Others who would train them are not so caring. They provide their training, take their fee, then discard the assassin once their usefulness is gone. Here, I aid them as I can, and help them find a purpose for their lives again.” She stops and looks at us meaningfully. “Purpose changes everything – but murder and revenge are not a purpose to live for. They can never provide you with the healing you will need.”
I stare at Storm, dumbfounded. This is the reason she rules here and teaches would-be assassins? Then I take a closer look at the men and women huddled on the platform. My first impression of them was more accurate than I knew – there is no life in their eyes, and my heart goes out to them. Is this what will become of me if I kill Tigranik?
Looking around at the others I see the same look of confusion and uncertainty that must be mirrored on my own face. But not everyone seems taken aback. Alek is slowly nodding his head as though he understands exactly what Storm has said. With the changes in him since Farley, perhaps he does. Even Miya appears thoughtful rather than shocked. But not me - I don’t understand at all.