by R. M Garino
Arielle knew that there was a way in. She had been raised to believe it. They just hadn’t found it yet. She let her gaze slip from the guards outside the doors, and wander along the cliff face further to the right.
You do realize that we have zero intelligence regarding the layout, Darien sent to them all. Even if we do get inside, we have no way of knowing what awaits us.
First things first, Gwen sent, a touch distracted. We’ll worry about that should we get to it.
I say we march up to doors without all this subterfuge, Ba’ril sent. We don’t need to do all this sneaking around. We’re Fel’Mekrin, not a bunch of fecking Mer’Chien.
We’ll be cut down well before we can call out the Ninth, Nessah sent. Without the element of surprise, we’ll just be turned away.
Well, then we can send a formal petition the way we’re supposed to, Ba’ril sent. I’m sure Cavallo could arrange something. That’s what a bloody resident is for isn’t it?
This way is better, Gwen sent, her absent tone continuing, as if she was giving only half her attention to the conversation. For all parties involved.
The solution, Arielle realized, was simple.
You are both right, Arielle sent. Follow me.
She stood, and walked toward the Le’Manon entrance. It was not a matter of getting past the watchers unseen, she realized. That possibility could not exist within the current calculus of their thought. It was more a matter of removing the sentries before they could raise the alarm. That, they definitely could do.
She drew a folded piece of parchment from the pouch at her waist, scanned it, and pretended to examine the ground. It was this morning’s duty roster, but no one else had to know that.
What in the seven hells are you doing? Darien sent. You just blew the whole operation!
Not quite, Arielle sent. Just follow along. We can’t sneak past them, but we can fool them. We’re going to pretend we are looking for several items on this list provided to us by our resident. My brother told me that they do that sometimes, when they’re unhappy with a squad’s performance. It’s a pointless task designed to waste time. When we’re close enough, we attack.
That’s devious, Nessah sent, the awe clear in her voice. Will it work?
We’ll just have to see, Gwen sent. Aloud, she added, “Let me see that,” and pulled the parchment from Arielle.
“Hold!” one called, stopping his circuit. “State your business!”
“Do any of you know if you have cremini in your gardens?” Gwen said, marching over, and waving the paper.
“How about some mortise toad mushrooms?” Denuelle said. “We need seven.”
The two guards stationed by the doors laughed. One threw his head back and pointed at them. The one who’d questioned them grinned as well, and the fourth walked over from his station.
Keep scanning the ground and move into position, Arielle sent, keeping her face averted. There was nothing she could do about her silver hair, but she tried to minimize the chance of recognition. She had no way of knowing what Nole and Padric had said to their peers.
“Mushroom hunt, huh?” the first said, shaking his head. “We got hit with that our first week here. Glad to see the other Houses are carrying on the grand traditions.”
“It’s a stupid punishment,” Denuelle said, taking a stance with her fists on her hips. “We’ve run two tours today. I am fecking tired, and would rather be in bed.”
“Now that,” the guard in front of her said, “sounds like a fine idea. Company would make it even better.”
Denuelle’s frown melted away, replaced by a coy, impish smile. “Would it now?” She slid closer to him.
A quick glance around showed that everyone was in place, or almost so. Nessah was a little further away than Arielle would have liked, but with seven to four odds, it would have to do. Denuelle was in prime position.
Now! Gwen’s command barked in their minds.
They moved against their chosen targets in tandem. Denuelle’s fist shot up, connecting her folded knuckle with the guard’s throat. She followed with an underhand jab to the sternum and grabbed the back of his head as he doubled over. Bringing her knee up, she smashed it into his face. Ba’ril slammed his elbow into the side of his opponent’s head, knocking him to the side in a stumbling shuffle. Nessah covered the distance and landed a roundhouse kick to the other side of his skull, dropping him in a heap. Darien and Caradoc threw themselves against the two by the doors. Darien managed to slip around his rival, wrapping his arms around his neck and head, and squeezing until he slipped from consciousness. Caradoc drove his knee into the other, knocking the wind from her, and then striking his elbow into the juncture where her shoulder met her head.
Arielle struck at the two hidden scouts simultaneously. Stretching out her sin’del, she latched onto the rock they stood in front of. After weeks at the Gates, she was familiar with the energy flows of the land, and pushed it aside with ease. Inserting a section of her own life force in its place, she grabbed onto the rock and pulled. The mountain wall flowed around them, pinning their limbs to their sides. A second twist of her wrists sent forth another wave, impacting with the pinioned heads. Both reappeared as they slipped from awareness.
Glancing over her shoulder to appraise the situation, Arielle was pleased to find the enemy down. Gwen stood in the center of the group, tapping the parchment against her leg.
Good, she told them all. A little sloppy with the timing, but effective nonetheless.
Thanks for the critique, Ba’ril sent, but we’re not in class right now.
There’s always room for improvement, Gwen sent, quoting one of the ubiquitous Fel’Mekrin sayings. It silenced him, and for that, Arielle was glad.
What now? Nessah sent, her mental voice flush with excitement and pride at her performance.
Now, Arielle sent, we knock and say hello.
In a manner of speaking, Gwen sent. Quietly now. We still need to get inside.
They fell into formation, taking positions to either side of the doors. Gwen stood alone studying the grand entrance. “Makes sense,” she whispered. She tapped one of the squared swirls and traced her finger along the running pattern that extended from it.
“And that did what, exactly?” Darien whispered.
“Open the door,” Gwen said. “I think.”
“You think?” someone said.
Gwen shrugged. “I might have sounded the alarm. I’m not quite sure. The dialect is strange.”
“Dialect?” Darien said. “What are you talking about?”
“Hush,” Gwen said, shaking her head for emphasis.
A loud click sounded through the still of the night, and the door swung inward.
Not so hard after all, Gwen sent as she stepped through.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Come to Call
The interior of the Le’Manon barracks was well lit, with soul lights perched in brackets near the ceiling, casting a soft, comforting glow across the foyer. As with their side of the horseshoe-shaped valley, the bare, smooth stone floor was molded from the very roots of the mountain. Designs and knotwork, similar to those that decorated the doorframe and lintel outside, were inlaid into the stone in patterns that intertwined and flowed across the floor and walls.
The temperature near the doorway was lower than deeper in the mountain. Arielle knew from experience that the cells here, where the newest arrivals were stationed, were suffused with a near constant chill. Her thoughts drifted to the Eighth with its dismal arrival time. They would be housed in the outer cells far longer than normal, until another group arrived with an even worse time.
The halls themselves were devoid of life.
Most of the graduates, Arielle reasoned, must still be in the communal mess, resting and catching up before the evening classes. She suspected they’d be late for their lessons.
So be it, she thought. There is another curriculum being taught tonight.
Ba’ril, she sent. Will you do the honors?
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He beamed at Arielle.
“House Le’Manon!” Ba’ril yelled, shattering the stillness of the corridor. “House Fel’Mekrin has come to call! Will you not come out and welcome us?”
His voice echoed down the intersecting corridors, bouncing and doubling back upon itself as if searching for a recipient. Doors opened, and the change in the flow of energy through the mountain spoke of the numerous bodies converging on them. Before Ba’ril’s voice had a chance to die, the sound of boots replaced it. Blades entered the hall, swords drawn, and filled the balconies above, training arrows on their position. Their presence was, everyone knew, a severe breach of protocol.
Arielle liked the way Gwen’s mind worked. The girl knew how to make a statement.
An Elc’atar pushed her way through the throng. Deidra’s long, golden hair was braided with symbols twined into the weave. She stopped as she cleared the crowd, her face a thunderhead of outrage. She regarded the intruders without bothering to conceal the emotions that roiled through her sin’del. She wore no weapon, Arielle noted. That one fact spoke her contempt louder than any shouted insult. Maybe Gwen’s rash and impulsive nature was not to be admired after all.
The Elc’atar stood, and waited.
Arielle took a step away from her squad. It was her dispute that had prompted this action. It was her desire, her need to forge the course of her own life that had led them here. She had to be the one to issue the challenge. A challenge issued in such a fashion, on the heels of such a brazen violation of protocol, and in front of kin, could not and would not be ignored. They would not walk away from her again.
“We have come for Nole and Padric of the Ninth,” she said speaking to the crowd, projecting her voice to follow the path blazed by Ba’ril’s.
“Why?” Deidra said. She did not shout, and yet her voice filled the room better than Arielle’s.
Arielle returned her attention to the Elc’atar.
“A challenge was issued in the mess today,” Nessah said before Arielle could respond. The slight crack in her voice betrayed her anxiety, but she held her ground and did not back down.
“And?”
“And they walked away from it,” Arielle said, feeling her venom slither out with her words. She did not shout this time, but answered the question as it was put to her. Nevertheless, her voice filled the foyer.
The woman cocked her head as she studied Arielle. After a moment, she shouted over her shoulder. “Nole! Padric! Get your sorry asses up here. Now!”
A gradual milling of bodies announced the arrival of the pair well before they entered the foyer. Behind them stood the rest of the Ninth. Narsis was tall and wide. Brianna reached his shoulder, but made up for it in girth. Leah was tall, blonde and willowy, whereas Sinead and Ceri were short and red haired.
“Is what they say true?” the Elc’atar said, her voice a dangerous whisper. She did not turn to face the pair as she spoke, but the color drained from them regardless. “Were you challenged today? And did you . . . walk away?”
Nole and Padric exchanged glances, their worry etched plain upon their faces. Padric scanned the faces behind him. Nole examined the floor.
“I asked a question!” Deidra shouted. She spun on the balls of her feet, lashing out, grabbing Nole by the ear and pulling him to his knees. “Was a challenge issued, and did you walk away without answering it?”
“We answered it,” Nole said. “We answered it.”
“We didn’t think it was worth our time,” Padric said, talking over his companion.
“Not . . . worth . . . your . . . time,” she said. “And why is that?”
“Well, w-w-we . . . s-s-she . . .” Nole said. The Elc’atar twisted his ear further, and Nole screamed.
“She has protection,” Padric said, holding up a placating gesture.
“Protection?”
Padric nodded, a rapid bobbing of his head. “She’s the Field Marshals’ daughter,” he said, as if that explained everything. The gathered crowd murmured at the revelation.
Deidra released Nole, hooked her thumbs behind her belt, and considered the ceiling towering above them.
“I,” Arielle said, “am my own protection.”
The Elc’atar regarded Arielle. She ambled over, scrutinizing her, standing close enough that she was towering above her. Arielle returned her stare, letting her anger well up and buoy her. Once again, the Elc’atar dipped her head in approval. “What is it you ask?”
“Satisfaction,” Arielle said. “On the parade field. Tonight.”
The Elc’atar was not quick to respond to the request. She appraised Arielle’s squad. “You wish it to be public?”
“Yes.”
“I will need something in return to help soothe the honor of my House.”
“Then they should fight well to restore the honor of House Le’Manon.”
Deidra leered at her as she shook her head. “I need something for me.”
“What is required?”
The Elc’atar crossed her arms and pursed her lips, “Do you remember me?” she said.
Arielle blushed, but did not avert her gaze. “We fought at the bridge. You pulled me to my feet afterward.”
“Very good,” she said. “And does your squad stand with you in this?”
“Our Pride stands united,” Caradoc said.
“You have pride aplenty, scrub, but you are not a Pride yet. Nevertheless, I will take that as a yes. Take the field, Arielle Rhen’val. We will attend you momentarily.”
“And the something you require?” Arielle said, her sin’del squirming.
Deidra shrugged. “We’ll discuss it at a later time, regardless whether you prevail tonight.”
Arielle bowed from the waist with her hands crossed over her heart to show her acquiescence.
With a matching step they exited the barracks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Barred to You
The intense chill of the autumnal night in the mountains was something that took time to acclimate to, yet even after almost two months, the sudden blast of cold still took Arielle’s breath away. She was not eager to experience what winter would be like here.
The Twelfth marched out to the well-beaten field. They were silent, preparing themselves for what was about to happen. Arielle knew full well what was at stake. She was gambling with the reputation of her squad. If they lost, their standing would plummet and they would all lose face. She would have to ensure that they did not fail.
The ornate doors opened and a pair of Pledges emerged. Breaking into a dead run, they darted across the field. Halfway to where the Twelfth held the ground, the runners separated. One continued on toward them, though he gave them a wide berth. The second runner moved toward command. They watched them as they ran.
“He’s heading to our barracks,” Darien said, pointing with a slight thrust of his chin.
“Makes sense,” Ba’ril said. “Le’Manon is informing House Fel’Mekrin that a challenge was issued and accepted.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone allied to Le’Manon will come out to watch,” Nessah said. She had her sword out again, twirling it with idle movements of her wrist.
“That’s why they sent the runner,” Ba’ril said, still watching the Blade. His voice showed his concern. “They’ll not want it to look like they’re ganging up on us. They’re spreading the word, encouraging support to attend. They’re following the forms.”
“Put that away,” Gwen said to Nessah, pointing at the sword. “We draw at the appointed time. We will not greet them with naked blades.”
Nessah dropped her head to hide her blushing cheeks as she sheathed her weapon. She muttered an apology.
“Thank you,” Arielle said. Her gaze was trained on the Le’Manon door, but she tilted her head toward her companions as she spoke. She was measuring her breath, calming her nerves and stilling her sin’del.
“No need to thank us,” Denuelle said. “We’re in this together. They insult you, they insult all o
f us.”
“I know,” Arielle said. “All the same, this means a great deal to me. I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’re all risking”
“Just a beating,” Caradoc said with a shrug of his shoulders. “A very public, very humiliating beating.” He started as he saw they were all staring at him.
“Well, that’s what we’re risking, right?” he said. “I mean, I’m just stating the obvious.”
“Yes,” Denuelle said, shaking her head. “It’s painfully obvious that you’re an ass.”
“I’m not trying to ruin the moment,” he said. “I’m just …”
“Caradoc,” Gwen said. Her gaze was almost pitying as she watched him turn toward her. “Shut up.”
Caradoc threw his hands up, his swirling display of his sin’del showing his confusion and dismay at everyone’s reactions.
“I think they invited Trenton,” Darien said.
A small troop of a dozen figures had emerged from the command quarters and walked toward them. Even at this distance she could see the determined nature of their stride, the graceful, almost languid movements of a predator stalking through its territory. The Mala’kar would be in attendance tonight. Well, she thought, you wanted a public audience. For better or for worse, they were committed now. We were committed the moment we stepped across the Le’Manon threshold, she thought, correcting herself. Live or die, there’s no hiding now.
The Fel’Mekrin barracks were emptying as well. Arielle saw Blades jogging out into the cold still stepping into their coats and cloaks. None of them, however, dared to outpace the Elc’atar who strode ahead with grim determination. A slender figure stalked in the center of the mob, his long black hair streaming from one side of his head. She could sense Cavallo’s rage from where she stood. Win or lose, they had incurred Cavallo’s wrath, and they would pay plenty for that after tonight.
“We did ask permission for this?” Darien said. He could sense the same danger that marched toward them. “We did, didn’t we, Gwen?”