"What?"
I look down at my hand.
"See the silver?" She points, showing a streak of silver dust where my hand used to be. "You left a trail. Now, try again."
I let my fingers trail through the faint dust that's already fading. I did it? The thought elates me, even if it was just for a moment. It means I can do it again.
And I do. Over and over I practice. I train through the night, and before the sun rises, Raven and I sneak back into the sleeping quarters. "Everyone here seems to be treating this like a competition," I whisper once we're back in bed. "Like they need to keep every advantage they can to themselves. But you don't. Why?"
"You mean why did I help you?"
"Yes."
She stares at the ceiling, quiet for a moment. "I suppose, because if I were a mother, and I had my kid taken away, I'd want help getting them back."
"So you wouldn't have helped me if I had a less noble reason?"
Her voice is cold. "If you'd had a less noble reason, you'd never have learned."
When the sun comes up, I reach the field first. Naoki is late, joining after Vane arrives with the rest of our squad. I'm ready, and as soon as he's watching, I swing my arm at the column, and in it, I see Pike holding my baby, taking her away. Leaving my family broken and bloody. All the anger in me pulses and my skin changes to silver scales around my arm. My nails transmute to claws. I slice through the pillar.
And it doesn't collapse.
"She failed," Mable whispers.
"No," Raven says, pointing. "Look."
I kick the pillar, knocking the top half off, and I see Master Vane smile. I'd cut it through so clean, you could barely see the slice. But it was there, long and deep. I did it. I passed the first test.
Relief fills me as I leave Naoki and Vane on the field, while I head to the baths for a much needed soak.
I did it. But this was only the first.
Twenty-One
Charred
Naoki does not pass the test.
After my bath and a walk to think, I returned to the courtyard to see how they were doing. It was close to sunset, and I'd hoped to see it empty, but Zane stood out there with his wolf, while Naoki struggled to transmute. Over and over.
To no avail.
The rest of our squad mates sat and watched in stunned silence.
No one scoffed or mocked.
I think they were all too shocked.
I know I was.
Tears streamed down their face as the sun finally faded and Vane frowned. "It is time. I am sorry."
His words sounded sincere, and his face looked haggard as he walked Naoki into the fortress.
We all head to our beds now, and we wait. Naoki does not return. A girl comes in later and takes the bedding and any personal affects from their space and leaves. Just like that, Naoki is gone.
"They're Charred now," Landon says. We've barely begun training and already Naoki's out. Just because they became a Broken One, just because they couldn't figure out transmutation, they'll now have to spend the rest of their life as a slave. Where's the justice in that?
Everyone is dejected as the candles burn low and light from the fire dances on the walls. Zev, who hasn't touched his books all night, speaks first, breaking the heavy silence. "I read the first trial has minimal instruction on purpose. To weed out those with so little natural talent that it would take them decades to gain even basic control over their powers. They're too dangerous to be allowed to wonder free. So they're made Charred, their Spirits snuffed out, and they serve those of the Ash until they die."
"What do you mean their Spirit is snuffed out?" I ask. I think about my bracelet and how it controlled my power, for a time. Is it like that?
Zev shrugs. "They undergo some kind of procedure and lose the ability to summon their Spirit. I've tried to learn more, but the details are a tightly guarded secret of the Ashpriests."
"Ashpriests?" I've heard of Ashknights and Ashlords, but this is new.
"There are four sects for those of the Ash," Zev says. "The Ashlings, who learn. The Ashknights, who protect. The Ashlords, who command. And the Ashpriests, who remember. The priests are a group dedicated to the knowledge of Spirits, as well as managing the fortress and the Charred."
"And then there is the fifth sect," Landon says.
Zev scoffs. "A myth told by superstitious nursemaids to keep children in line."
"It's no myth, I tell you," he says, leaning forward on his bed, his voice low. "There is a fifth sect. The Ashwraiths, they call them. Who conspire. A secret group comprised of the most talented Broken Ones, working in the night to manipulate the land. Turning noble houses against one another. Assassinating those who oppose the Cliff."
Mabel tsks at him. "Dragoncliff avoids interfering in matters of politics," she says, tossing a lock of red hair to the side. "Everyone knows this. For centuries they've remained neutral throughout wars and feuds."
Landon chuckles. "Or so they want you to believe."
Bix nods, surprising everyone with his deep, booming voice in the quiet of their room. "My people, too, speak of the Ashwraiths. But they are not agents of the Cliff, no. They are deserters. Ashlords who left the Cliff and betrayed their sacred vows, and Charred who escaped. They hide in the Waning Woods, where their Spirits have become corrupted, their powers greater. It is they who cause children to go missing in the forest. It is they who summon Corrupted Spirits to attack villages."
I shudder at his words, but Landon laughs again. "Listen to yourself. Those are the nursemaid tales meant to scare children."
Bix nods solemnly. "It does scare the children. And it should scare you as well."
Zev leans in. "All these tales are ridiculous. If any of the myths are even slightly true, it's that Ashwraiths live within the Wall, deserters who hide within the mountains. It's the one place they actually have a chance to avoid being caught by Ashlords, as long as they manage to avoid the dragons as well. Though it's unlikely they can survive in such an environment for long, it's not impossible, I suppose." Zev smiles gruesomely. "Still, those dragons are starving."
Landon rolls his yes. "Really? Twin Spirits living beyond the Wall is more realistic than a powerful organization using assassins to influence and control?"
Zev rubs his chin. "Assassins are not completely out of the question. However, if Dragoncliff had decided to enter politics, then why does the Emperor rule and not our Headmaster? Think about it. The only people stronger than Twin Spirits were High Dragons, and they were all killed off during the Rising. Why would Dragoncliff let the Emperor have power, instead of taking it for itself, if power was the goal?"
Landon shrugs. "Who says power is the goal?"
Mabel shakes her head. "Listen to yourselves, trying to analyze folk stories. Ashwraiths don't exit. If they did, we'd have accounts of them, just as we do dragons and various Spirits."
Zev nods. "I agree. There would be some official record of their existence, even if not here, then at the palace."
"I wonder… " Landon says, frowning, "what Naoki would have thought about this."
We all look at their starkly empty bed, and our somber moods return. It could have been any one of us who made Charred. It was almost me. I was so focused on trying to get myself past the first trial, I didn't think much about Naoki's struggles. It didn't occur to me to ask Raven to let them join our training. I could have saved them. Maybe they would still be here with us if I had. I glance at Raven, who isn't looking at anyone. Instead, she's sharpening her blade again.
Eventually we blow out our candles and tuck ourselves into bed, but I can't sleep, despite my physical and mental fatigue. After hours of tossing and turning, I give up and crawl out of bed to use the privy and relieve a full bladder.
I enter a stone room full of crude stone toilet seats that contain reusable clay pots. I do my business, trying not to breathe too deeply, and as I'm about to leave, someone dressed in gray robes enters. They bend over one of the toilets and begin s
cooping brown sludge into a bucket.
I catch the side of their face in candlelight, and see dark purple rings under familiar eyes.
"Naoki?"
"Do not look at me," they whispers in a pained voice without making eye contact.
"But I—"
"Is there something you require, Mistress?" they ask, staring at their feet. Their voice is dead, cold, a recitation of some line they're forced to speak.
"No. I just wanted to talk. To see how you are."
"You must not talk with Charred, Mistress. It is beneath you. Now, if you will excuse me—"
A woman steps into the privy wearing dark gray robes. She's thick-boned and has her raven hair pulled into a severe bun. She has a rope tied around her waist. "Do you not recall what I told you, Charred One?" She says in a harsh voice to Naoki. "You do not speak to those above you."
I'm appalled as Naoki drops to their knees and puts their forehead on the filthy floor. "I am sorry, Watcher. She addressed me first. I thought it rude not to respond."
"It was rude to even look upon her. To even stand in her presence." The Watcher walks forward, untying the rope around her waist as she does. She holds it above Naoki. "Your transgression must be removed through pain. Remove your robes."
I gasp. "What are you doing?"
"Do not question me, Ashling," she says. "This Charred is new, and she must be taught our ways. Go now, or stay if you like. But do not interfere again." She turns away from me to Naoki, who's back is bare as they bend their head to the floor. The Watcher raises her rope and strikes down.
I catch the rope with my hand, my skin transmuting to avoid injury.
The Watcher's eyes go wide. "How dare you—"
"Are you not a Charred One as well?" I challenge her. She must be, else why would she be in this role.
She glares at me, without speaking. "Then am I not your superior, yet you dare speak to me. Chastise me. Command me."
I pull on the rope and the Watcher loses balance and falls face first next to the bucket of shit and piss.
"Come, Naoki," I say, handing them robes to cover themselves.
The Watcher stands, and I expect a fight, but she does not move. Her voice is calm. Collected. "I know you seek to help them, Ashling. But what you do will only make their life harder. They are Charred now. Their existence is dedicated to taking care of this fortress and nothing more. The faster they accept this, the better for everyone. Do not try to give them hope when there is none to be had."
She walks past me then and commands Naoki to follow her. Naoki slips on their robe and walks past me. I try to grab their hand, but they brush me away. "This is the way things must be, Sky. I have accepted it. So please, accept it as well, for my sake."
When they leaves I am left alone in the cold darkness, wondering what kind of torture they endured that could break a person's spirit in one day.
They ask me to accept this, but how can I ever accept injustice?
Twenty-Two
Blood And Tears
I see Naoki only once in the next few days. Their paleness has deepened into an unhealthy sallowness that serves to highlight their sharpened cheekbones and the dark half-moons under their eyes. Naoki and I don't speak, and they don't make eye contact with me, but as they walk away I notice dark red lashes across the backs of their calves. I shudder as I consider what kind of torture Naoki has endured already.
I want to talk to someone about it, but who? Raven is remote and not good at empathy. Mabel and Landon seem to actively hate anyone not them. Zev disdains everyone and prefers books to people. Bix and Enzo seem okay, but are earnestly trying to learn everything they can, and so there is little time to make friends.
I'm lonely, and I miss Blake. I miss our talks late into the night, where we would tell each other everything over ice cream and cheap beer. I miss my fire family, and the easy camaraderie that was forged in battle and boredom. And I miss the kids so much my chest aches when I think of them. I see them each night in my dreams, and it's a bittersweet kind of crushing of my heart. There's a moment—a flash of a moment really—each morning, when I'm just waking up, and consciousness isn't fully upon me yet. When I forget where I am and what's happened. When I expect sticky hands to touch my face and wake me. Or Kara's impatient cry to jolt me back to my reality. And then my eyes flutter open and I remember, and I have to suck in a sob as it all crashes down on me anew.
Each morning, I lose them all again.
And each time, it hurts just as much.
Time should heal this. Or make it more bearable. That's what they say, isn't it? I don't know whether that's a relief or just a different kind of loss. The raw pain is a penance, a reminder of why I'm here. To lose that is to lose part of myself.
But night is the hardest. During the day I am kept too busy by lessons, training, physically grueling work outs, reading, horseback riding, sword fighting, and Spirit work to think beyond the moment. It's a blessing, to be kept on the brink of such exhaustion. I'd never sleep otherwise.
Over the next few days, the lessons intensify. We spend time in the forest gathering herbs and learning their uses. We learn how to track, and practice finding prints, covering our own, noticing when a branch or stick or twig or leaf is even the slightest bit displaced. We are challenged to use our Spirit to heighten our own senses, which aides many of us in the tracking.
"We may only be tracking animals now, but these skills will serve you when tracking dragons," Master Vane says.
We learn how to make camp and how to find and prepare food in the wild. This knowledge seems new to most, even Raven. Only Bix seems to have a greater mastery of outdoor survival, though he still listens as attentively as the rest of us.
We are hungry and sore at the end of each day, and Bix picks up two points. One for tracking a deer faster than the rest of us, and the other for setting up the best camp.
Despite the challenge of it all, or maybe because of it, I finally feel like I'm getting the hang of this life at the Cliff. I've spent time camping with my family when I was a kid. And I learned a lot of survival skills with the fire department. It feels good having some skill at what we're doing.
That fragile dash of confidence is destroyed when we begin combat training.
It's not quite dawn yet as we line up in the training arena. Master Vane—who seems to never need sleep or sustenance and I'm convinced is more machine than man—demonstrates hand-to-hand combat skills for us to mimic.
He makes it look so easy I almost laugh.
Until I try it myself and realize it's not at all easy.
After a few repetitions, he pairs us off and commands us to spar. The Ashling with the best technique will receive a point by the end of the day.
I'm paired with Landon, and I'm not holding my breath at getting that point.
Raven's with Mabel. Zev is with Bix and Enzo waits to have a turn later with one of us since Naoki is now gone.
"Don't worry," says Landon, with a crooked smile. "I'll go easy at first."
Yeah, right.
He throws a right hook, but I duck under and rush him with my body, knocking him to the ground and pinning him. Not a move Vane taught us, but hey, whatever works.
He flails about, unable to escape from my hold. "Come on, what kind of move was that?"
I grin down at him, my hair falling to the side of his face. "The kind of move you learn to take down bullies in the fifth grade," I say, applying more pressure on his neck with my elbow. "Do you give up?"
He squirms some more, his face turning red from the exertion and embarrassment, and when he realizes he's not getting out of this, he taps my arm twice. The signal to end the fight.
Master Vane walks by and smirks at Landon. "Suppose your tutors didn't teach you this, huh Ashling? Did they only believe in the delicate arts?"
Landon frowns, then stands while massaging his throat, his eyes fierce. He raises his fists in fighting form. "Again."
We spar. And we spar again. And again. I
take most of the wins, though he gets me a few times. We take breaks to catch our breath and get water, and I use that time to watch the other pairs. Raven fairs well, moving faster than I've ever seen her. She may be small, but she's strong, fast and agile, as she dances around Mabel, tripping her up and twisting her joints. Mabel gets in a few punches, hitting Raven in the side with considerable force, but it doesn't slow the young girl down. It's as if she doesn't even feel it.
Since Enzo has been waiting on the sidelines, Vane eventually sends him to take Raven's place. I guess he figures Raven doesn't need more practice. Enzo and Mabel prove an even match, constantly tiring themselves out with neither of them taking many wins.
But I spend most of my time watching Zev and Bix.
The big man rushes his small opponent, but Zev dashes out of the way in an instant, then grabs Bix by the wrist, twisting in some strange manner I've never seen until the giant collapses. With screams of pain, he taps out and Zev stands victorious, the gloat filling his face. "Care to try again?" he asks smugly.
Bix wipes his eyes, and I wonder if he's covering up tears. "You too fast, little demon man," Bix says. "Too good. Where you learn fighting like that?"
"My father taught a class of Hetow back home. Every day I was forced to join him by the beach and train. I'd much rather have been reading, but now, I'm grateful my parents made me practice."
"Your father must be a great warrior," Bix says, his booming voice full of admiration. "I would like to meet him one day."
Zev smiles at that and offers his hand to help the giant man up. A symbolic gesture, given that Zev would not be able to lift Bix, but it is not lost on Bix, whose mood improves.
We've all sustained our share of bruises when Vane stops us halfway through the day and tells us to line up. "Now it is time you learn to infuse your actions with the strength of your Spirits. You must punch harder. Run faster. Jump higher."
He points to two beams, about sixteen feet high, positioned side by side in the northwest corner of the arena. Another beam crosses between them around four feet from the top, making a really tall, stylized 'H'. "You will line up and take turns trying to jump over the beam. The first to succeed gets a talisman."
Of Dreams and Dragons Page 17