by Matt Laney
She strolls through the wreckage of groaning bodies. “They’ll be fine,” she says, hardly winded. “Not a drop of blood on these blades.” She climbs the porch steps and looks over the fallen masses.
“Company F! Assemble!” she orders.
A few dusty pelts begin to stir.
“Company F! Assemble!”
Fourteen cadets rise with difficulty and form two scraggly lines.
Anjali shakes her head with disappointment. “Who is responsible for this company?”
Our commander limps forward.
“And you are?”
“21-1.”
“You are relieved from command. I am in charge now.”
21-1 bows, but I can tell he is as wounded on the inside as on the outside. It pains me to see his pain. But there’s no stopping Anjali now.
“All of you, go inside, get your blades, and be on the training fields in five minutes!”
Nobody moves.
Anjali snarls and pounces from the porch to the ground. “I said go!”
The company lumbers up the steps and files into the bunkhouse.
Satisfied, Anjali addresses me. “What were you saying about me needing to leave?”
“So you’re not only our captain but company commander and instructor, too?”
“I have the Kahn’s permission to make changes like that.”
“Are you going to take Alpha’s job next?”
“If you say so.” She winks. “When you’re the Singa-Kahn.”
“Why stay where you’re not wanted?”
“You know,” Anjali says, dislodging her aero-blade from the porch post, “most cadets would be thrilled to have a Singa soldier as their captain. Company F will be the envy of the Academy.”
“I’m not like most cadets,” I argue.
“And that’s why I’m here. Get your blades,” she says, marching off to the training fields. “Time to make soldiers.”
Chapter 18
Without experiencing grief, we cannot respond to the pain of the world.
—Sayings of the Ancients
n the evening of her third day at the Academy, Anjali informs Company F she will feed in Alpha’s house instead of with us in the feeding hall. Her wrinkled brow and tight mouth spell trouble.
“Has something happened?” I ask as we walk to the feeding hall. It’s my first chance to speak to Anjali in private since she arrived.
“Jakal came back from the castle this morning with General Dagan.”
“So?”
“So nothing, I hope. Except . . .” Her voice trails off.
“Except what?”
“I trust Dagan about as far as I can throw her. Kaydan thinks she is loyal to Tamir. I feel some darkness creeping in like a shadow walking before her.”
“Will you tell me what you can after feeding?”
“Of course, but not in front of the others.” She waves her tail toward the feeding hall. “You’d better go. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back.” She winks, pivots, and jogs down the path to Alpha’s house.
Jakal is not in the feeding hall, and neither are any of the head instructors who normally join him at the high table. They must be with General Dagan at Alpha’s house. Only a handful of regular instructors prowl the hall.
After we have fed but before the evening’s chapter from The Science of War is read, Amara and her company slither through the room and surround our table. Zoya growls out a warning as Amara ambles up behind me. The instructors pretend to take no notice. No doubt they are in Amara’s pocket too.
“What do you want, Amara?” Stick demands.
Amara places her hands on my shoulders and rubs them. “Just a little quality time with my cousin. We so rarely have an opportunity to visit.”
Heat pours off Zoya’s body. She scratches the underside of our bench, just to give her claws something to do.
“If you want a Judoko rematch, that’s no problem,” I say, hoping to cool things off.
Amara grunts. “We’ve been in a Judoko match for our entire lives, cousin.” She leans low and says, “And you are out of moves. Everything is about to change.”
Her claws sink into my pelt, causing me to wince and tremble.
Zoya gives her brother a pleading look.
Stick nods and Zoya powers off the bench, tackles Amara, and pulls her to the floor. Amara kicks and screeches, but without success. Zoya has her pinned to the floor like a butterfly to a corkboard.
“Get this fat karkadann off me!” she roars.
Three of Amara’s company-mates tug at Zoya’s arms and neck. A fourth joins in the effort, and together they manage to separate Zoya from Amara long enough for Amara to unleash a barrage of blows to Zoya’s belly and slaycon-injured shoulder. Zoya screeches with pain. Stick hurdles over the table and knocks one of Amara’s company-mates away, giving Zoya time to drive a foot into Amara’s chin.
Then we are all on our feet, lashing out like wild animals defending their last scrap of territory. Amara’s company is at the end of their training, ready to become full Singa soldiers, while we are at the beginning. Three days of training with Anjali aren’t making much difference.
We’re getting pummeled.
All the other companies leap on top of the surrounding benches and tables, stomping and cheering, but no one offers to defend Company F. Fortunately, no one’s rushing to help Amara’s company, either.
Zoya and Stick are the last ones standing. When Stick is knocked to the floor and can’t get up, a surge of rage reenergizes Zoya. She hurls one attacker at four others, then stoops to check on her brother. Seeing he’s not seriously hurt, she jumps back into the fray, snarling and swinging at everyone in her path. Zoya is not a graceful fighter like Anjali, but she’s effective. It takes six cadets from Amara’s company to bring her down. She struggles under their weight, refusing to give up, when a high, shrill sound slices the air.
“Enough of this!” Alpha has returned, flanked by Jakal, Anjali, and General Dagan. “On your feet, all of you!”
Alpha and Dagan walk briskly to the high table as each company drifts back to their assigned seat. Anjali weaves through the crowd to my side. Her face is unreadable, like a wooden mask, but her cheeks and muzzle are stained with tears. Try as I might to get her attention, I cannot; her gaze is locked on Alpha.
The Academy leader reaches the high table and rests her fingertips on the surface, eyes downcast.
Anjali was right. Something is very wrong.
Have they figured out who conjured up the great wolf? Have the Maguar actually attacked?
Alpha’s voice trembles. “We are . . . honored to have General Dagan visit the Academy tonight. But she brings difficult news.”
Alpha steps back and General Dagan glides forward. “Our great leader and lord, Raja Kahn, is dead. He took his last breath this morning.”
The words hit me like a blacksmith’s hammer. My heart shrivels. The room begins to swirl. Anjali puts a hand on my shoulder.
Dagan isn’t finished.
“The generals have appointed Tamir as regent and supreme military commander until the prince has completed his training and is ready to claim the throne, which Tamir will surrender when the time comes.”
My brain strains to contain these impossibly heavy announcements. Grandfather is dead . . . Tamir is in charge . . . appointed by the generals.
Including Kaydan?
Where is Kaydan? He is the senior general. He should be sharing this news, not Dagan.
“Steady yourself, Leo,” Anjali counsels.
“Kaydan,” I stammer. “Where is he?”
Anjali squeezes my arm. “Say nothing. Do nothing.”
“As his first act as regent,” Dagan continues, “Supreme Military Commander Tamir has declared war on the Maguar to punish them for a recent act of aggression against our lands.”
Does she mean the hole in the wall or Rukan? Or both? Am I partly responsible for giving Tamir a reason to go to war?
“It will take weeks to prepare for a full-scale invasion. To ensure we have more than enough warriors ready, Tamir has declared that all cadets in their second year of training are now full soldiers in the Royal Army.”
Half the room explodes with cheers at the prospect of war and early release from the Academy. Meanwhile, I’ll be stuck here as Tamir marches us into an unnecessary battle with our enemies.
After the shouts and roars die away, Dagan says, “I will return to the castle tonight with the prince so that he may pay his respects to the Kahn’s body.”
Every hair on my back rises.
“I’m coming with you,” Anjali says through gritted teeth. “No matter what she says.”
That gives me an idea. “I will go, General. But surely neither you nor Alpha would refuse having my quadron accompany me.”
Dagan looks like she might protest, but Alpha cuts in.
“Of course your quadron will go with you,” she declares. “All cadets and soldiers stay with their quadrons. Isn’t that right, General?”
“Very well,” Dagan grumbles. “Gather your things and be at the falls in ten minutes.”
I lean toward Anjali. “The falls?”
“Yes. You think there is only one way in and out of this place?”
Chapter 19
Branches tied together in a bundle are unbreakable.
—Sayings of the Ancients
isten to me as if your life depends on it,” Anjali says on our way to the bunkhouse. “Because it does.”
We’re moving in quadron formation, like a four-pointed diamond, cutting through the twilight: Anjali in the back, Zoya just ahead, Stick to her left at the forward position, and I opposite Zoya.
“You have only begun to learn how to move and fight as a quadron, but each of you shows potential.” Anjali slows our pace. “Obviously this quadron is unique in one way. We have the rightful heir to the throne among us, and that means our goal is to protect Leo, even at the cost of our lives.”
“Then we are no longer a quadron,” I gripe. “A quadron fights as equals and defends itself to the end.”
We huddle in a tight circle outside our bunkhouse.
“I know,” Anjali says. “But Tamir isn’t calling you back to the castle for you to pay your respects to the Kahn’s body. He has been disgraced, untailed, and he wants revenge. Our lives are at risk as soon as General Dagan leads us out of the Academy. She is loyal to Tamir, let’s not forget.”
“You think her orders are to kill Leo, and all of us, as soon as we leave the Academy?” Stick asks.
“I doubt that,” Anjali reflects. “Tamir will want the pleasure of having Leo see him as supreme commander first and perhaps try to persuade Leo to back him.”
“That won’t happen,” I say.
“Why does he want Leo’s support anyway?” Zoya asks.
“Tamir doesn’t have all Singas behind him,” Anjali explains. “But if the prince makes a public statement affirming Tamir as temporary ruler, it will unify the kingdom under Tamir’s leadership.”
We enter the bunkhouse and strap on our blades. I take my short blade, normally worn on the back, and buckle it to my side, then fasten my dagger to the opposite hip. The long blade and aero-blade will stay behind. Half as many weapons make a little Singa like me twice as free to move.
As we leave what has only just begun to feel like home, Stick asks, “What’s our plan once we get to the castle, assuming we live that long?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet. Just remember, I am your commanding officer, and you will do exactly as I say.”
“Spoken like a true captain.” The voice takes us all by surprise. Not even Stick heard or smelled anyone. “Words that should be taken to heart.” A lithe figure approaches from the shadow of the bunkhouse. Anjali puts a hand to her long blade.
“You won’t need that, Captain. Not now.”
“Alpha?” Stick exclaims.
Anjali is as stunned to see the Academy leader strolling alone among the bunkhouses as the rest of us. Alpha ascends the porch steps and rests her steely eyes on me.
“I know you sneaked into Wajid’s cage. Your scent was all over the chamber.”
“You did what!” Anjali explodes.
“It was foolish . . . and impressive,” Alpha says. “What I want to know is why. Why did you risk your safety, and getting caught, only to discover he had escaped?”
“I wanted to know more about our enemies.” It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth.
“And you had nothing to do with his escape?”
“No!” I answer before Anjali pops her lid again. “He was gone before I got there.”
Alpha considers this and nods slightly. “I believe you, 24-4.”
“Where did Wajid go?” I ask.
“Back to his kind. We followed his trail until it disappeared. Wajid was very intelligent for a Maguar. He had been planning his escape for years, waiting for the right moment, until his task was complete.”
Stick’s ears twitch. “What task?”
“Wajid claimed he was sent to Singara by the Maguar right after the Great War to find someone. Twenty-five years is a long time to wait. But I wonder if he found the one he was looking for when he came upon you, 24-4.”
“I’ve been alive for only half that time,” I argue. “It’s not logical.”
“Perhaps, but what other conclusion can we draw, given the evidence? I’ve never seen him take such a strong interest in any other cadet. And then to escape right after?”
Stick cocks his head. “So Wajid was sent as a spy to find and kill the next Singa-Kahn before he takes the throne?”
“Finding and killing the next Singa-Kahn was not his mission,” Alpha says. “I’m sure of that. Wajid didn’t know that the one he was looking for, the one he found, is also the prince.”
Anjali folds her arms. “So what does he want with Leo?”
Alpha shrugs. “The Maguar mind is not driven by reason. But now Tamir has strong reasons for war: the hole in the Great Wall, Wajid’s escape, and the attack of the giant wolf. No doubt the beast was sent by the Maguar to distract us while Wajid fled.”
My stomach turns. As I feared, I am partly responsible for the coming war. Speaking the names of story creatures and bringing them fully into our world leads to nothing but trouble.
Anjali knows Wajid had nothing to do with the appearance of the wolf. She’s concerned about something else. “Does Tamir or Dagan know about Wajid’s mission? Did you share your theory that Leo is the one Wajid was looking for?”
“I have not shared that theory with anyone until now. The prince’s life is in enough danger as it is.”
Anjali is relieved. I wish I could say the same.
“Thank you, Alpha.” Anjali bows. “We are in your debt.”
“Farewell, soldiers of Singara,” Alpha says. “Remember your training.”
• • •
Anjali leads us to the waterfall at the far end of the Academy, where General Dagan waits with two karkadanns. Moonlight sparkles on the cascading water. The serene beauty is a welcome relief from the ugliness brewing in our realm.
“I did not count on having so many travelers tonight,” Dagan shouts over the rumble of water. She hoists herself into the saddle of a karkadann. “The rest of you will have to walk.”
I glimpse at Anjali before mounting. She nods, and Zoya makes a step with her hands to launch me into the saddle.
Dagan waves her tail toward the falls. “You know the way, Anjali. Why don’t you lead us?”
Anjali hesitates. Being in the forward position puts Dagan and me out of her sight. From a strategic point of view, that’s not good.
Dagan notes Anjali’s reluctance and sighs wearily. “How old are you, Anjali?”
“Sixteen.”
“I am two and a half times your age and a general of Singara. In fact, I am second in command under Tamir, and my orders are to deliver the prince safely to the castle. I intend, upon my honor as a sol
dier, to fulfill those orders. And I expect you to fulfill mine.”
Anjali shifts uneasily.
Things have gotten tense in a hurry. If Anjali doesn’t follow Dagan’s orders, she risks punishment, which would leave me far less protected in the long run. Trusting Dagan might be the only choice we have.
Anjali grabs the bridle of my karkadann and directs our party to the waterfall. Stick and Zoya walk on either side, Dagan bringing up the rear. The mossy path is laden with puddles, like little mirrors scattered on the ground. Mist from the tumbling column of water lays a glittering curtain of moon-kissed droplets over my fur. Ten more steps and we will be under the falls and completely drenched. Zoya and Stick look as uncertain as I do, which tells me they haven’t experienced the waterfall as a way out of the Academy either. The karkadanns, however, keep their steady, plodding pace, as if they are only returning to the familiarity of their stalls.
The path turns sharply and loops under the waterfall. The way behind the great column of water is narrow, forcing us all to go single file into a vast, echoing cavern.
We march onward into the gloom, straining our night vision with the increased darkness. I note movement above, ripples of black and gray, like dark sheets flapping on the cavern’s ceiling. It seems to be one thing and countless things at the same time.
“Those are cave leeches,” Dagan explains. “Do not be alarmed. They have no taste for Singa blood. That is what makes them the perfect guardians for this way in and out of the Academy.”
“If they don’t like Singas, why are they slithering down here?” Stick wonders.
Dagan stares at the nearest cavern wall, now teeming with waves of shiny gray skin. “You have keen eyes, cadet,” she says. “This is strange. They usually stay above and do not chance to come this close.”
The karkadanns have noticed the descending leeches as well. Their heads jerk this way and that, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
Stick voices what we are all thinking: “Should we be concerned about this?”
“Stay calm,” Dagan says. “Keep the karkadanns steady, go forward, and don’t make sudden movements. There is no reason for them to attack unless we give them one.”