My room is the last at the end of a long, empty hallway. Embers from the fire set the room aglow. Elda, the housekeeper, lit it before I climbed into bed—shortly before I climbed out of it and snuck out the window.
I don’t go to the bed now. If the boys are punished with a night without sleep, then I will be, too. I sit on the floor, reach under the bed, and pull out a small box.
Good thing Elda doesn’t bother with cleaning under the bed.
I open the lid and stare at the shiny contents.
My mother and sisters (save Irrenia) all chose jeweling as their professions. All the miners bring the best finds to Mother with the hopes of earning her favor. She’s also the most beautiful woman in the village—a fact she never lets me forget—and sometimes miners will seek her out when they don’t have jewels to sell. They shower her with compliments. No one has a larger section in the high goddess’s Book of Merits than my mother, I’m sure.
At the top of my jewelry box is a sapphire necklace, the centerpiece the size of the pad of my thumb. Salvanya, my eldest sister, gave it to me as a gift for my last birthday. Beneath it is a bracelet rimmed with rubies. That’s from Tormosa. Alara and Ashari made me matching ruby earrings.
I’ve never worn anything in this box outside the confines of this room. If my father saw me dressing in such finery, he’d be ashamed. Warriors do not wear jewelry. Even Torrin gets reproach for the sentimental bracelet he wears, which is why he tries to keep it hidden under his armor at all times.
And if my mother saw me, she’d laugh and probably make some comment about how gems could never hide how ugly and unfeminine I am.
I wade through more items: a turquoise choker, a topaz anklet, an emerald-dressed headpiece.
At the very bottom are two plain items, but they’re my favorite. I pull them out, even dare to put them on.
Black earrings. My ears were pierced by the time I turned six, but before that, I longed to wear beautiful earrings like my older sisters. Mother knew this, so she made me earrings out of special plain black rocks. She called them lodestones. Some natural reaction between the two ends draws them together, holding up the pieces with my ear suspended between.
I remember what she told me, how I was one end of the earring while she was the other, held together by a powerful force.
That was before I declared myself a warrior. Before my mother hated me. I wouldn’t dare wear them in front of her now. She might demand them back.
But I dream of wearing them in front of her, of her seeing them and remembering the words she once spoke.
I know it’s foolish thinking—nothing could sway her now. She wears her hatred like an armor fused to her skin, never to come off. It is the only thing that protects her from my father’s constant rejection.
She doesn’t realize I would give up his praise in an instant if it meant I could have a real mother. One like Torrin’s, who grieves every day for the child she never even knew.
A door slams, and I hurry to throw everything back in the box, pulling the stones from my ears and chucking them inside, closing the lid, and shoving it under the bed.
My door opens not even a second after the box slides out of sight.
“What did I miss?” Irrenia asks. She is only one year my senior and the sister I cherish the most.
“I snuck out of the house. Father blamed Mother for it.”
She opens her mouth, likely about to demand more details, but then she sees my face. “There’s a cut on your cheek, and what happened to your eye? Mother didn’t—”
“No. It wasn’t Mother.” She is not foolish enough to actually strike me. Not when I am warrior trained.
Irrenia enters the room fully, gets behind me, and steers me down the hall. “Tell me everything.”
I do so as she plunks me into a chair in her room and digs in one of her drawers for some sort of salve. She rubs it onto my swollen eye, and it begins to twitch from the stinging sensation caused by the salve.
“Ow,” I say.
“Oh hush. It’ll feel better in a moment.”
I close my other eye and take in the rich scent of Irrenia’s room. She does not work at the jewelers with everyone else. Irrenia trained to become a healer. She passed her trial just last year, but she’s already the best with medicine in the village. Her room is filled with her own concoctions, and it smells of soothing herbs. Lately she’s been experimenting with ziken venom, trying to find a way to make the warriors immune to their paralyzing bite.
Irrenia has the kindest spirit of anyone I know, which is why she is always home so late. She can’t bear to turn away those who are sick or injured. She continues to work each day until she has no more patients or until she drops from exhaustion.
Though I still cannot open my injured eye, the stinging sensation abates, replaced by a soothing numbness.
She rubs more salve onto the wound, and I finish telling her everything that happened tonight, leaving out no details.
“Sneaking out was stupid,” she says when I’m finished. “There are a hundred different ways you could have been injured or killed. I’m just relieved a punch to the face is the worst of your injuries. What if you’d run into the ziken in the wild? We wouldn’t have even recognized your remains in the morning! And what would happen to Father then?”
“Oh yes, poor Father. Whatever would he do without an heir to carry on his legacy?”
“He loves you, Rasmira. It would break him to see you go.”
Because of his own investment in me. It has nothing to do with me as a person.
“At least Mother would be happy then,” I say.
She flicks my swollen eye with a finger.
I let out a sound that probably wakes Ashari over in the next room. “What the hell, Irrenia!” I cup a hand gently over my eye.
“I don’t want to hear you talking like that. Everyone has problems. Don’t make Mother’s and Father’s your own. You are not at fault for anything.” She puts a finger under my chin to raise my eyes to hers. “I love you. It sounds like that boy of yours is quite fond of you. Your instructors adore you. But even if they didn’t, it doesn’t matter. You are worthy of love. Not everyone knows how to love the right way. But you remember how that feels and vow never to do it to others.”
“You’re awfully wise, you know that?” I say. “And you’re the kindest person I know.” I tell her that last part every day. If there is anyone who deserves a place of honor in Rexasena’s Paradise, it is Irrenia. And I remind the goddess every day through my compliments.
“Enough about me,” Irrenia says. “Let’s discuss how we’re going to get this boy to kiss you.”
CHAPTER
3
Despite all of Irrenia’s wild ideas (“Find a way to get trapped in a dark, tight spot with him,” “Pretend to trip in his direction so he has to catch you with your lips inches from his,” and “Tell him you’ve got something stuck in your eye, and you need him to take a look”), I’ve decided that I will not wait any longer for Torrin to make the first move.
I’m going to kiss him.
As soon as we’ve both passed our trial—it’s the perfect moment.
I fall asleep on the floor of my room with that thought in my mind. The next morning, I take some satisfaction in my aching back and neck. Torrin had to stay up all night. I’d tried to do the same, but at least I can say I’m being punished for my part.
I do not need long to prepare myself in the morning. I wash myself down with a rag and soapy water, put on a fresh set of warm hides, buckle my boots, and then survey my armor lying out on the far table. Our metalsmiths pound iron into flat sheets and shape them to our bodies. Mine fit perfectly, and I take pride in the simple act of donning them each morning. I like to start at the bottom and work my way up. First come the greaves, which consist of two separate sheets for each lower leg and slide into thin openings in my leathers. I curve one over the top of each shin; the other two slide over my calves. The thigh guards are a bit trickier due to
the size, but they slide on the same way. I pull my breastplate over my head and tighten the straps, remembering the embarrassment on Father’s face when the smithy had to round it out more for my breasts. My forearm and upper arm guards go on next.
Last and most importantly, I slide my ax through the sheath on my back.
I check and double-check everything. Ensure that all is secure, tight, and comfortable.
At a knock on my door, my heart skips a beat. I know it can’t be Irrenia. She said the previous night that she was to go see patients until the time of my trial.
It’s Father.
He strides into my room and looks me over from head to toe, hands hidden behind his back.
When he finishes his assessment, he nods to himself. “Your eye is better. Irrenia did fine work. And I’m proud of you, Rasmira. You will do splendidly today. Let us forget last night’s escapade ever happened.”
I bet Torrin wishes he’d extend the same sentiment to him.
“It is customary for family members to bestow a gift after you complete your trial, but I wish to give you mine now.”
He shows me what he’d been hiding behind his back.
There’s no other word for it. The ax is beautiful. I take it in my hands to inspect it. The iron has been polished until it shines. It is a bit heavier than my first ax, the shaft as long as one of my legs. But the weight is perfectly balanced. The double ax heads are wickedly sharp, ready to cut through flesh as effortlessly as a fish skims through water. Etched into the blades are a series of swirling knots, alluring and intricate. Some of the designs morph into dragon-like figures; others take the shape of birds.
Black leather coats the handle, giving me a perfect grip.
“It’s exquisite,” I say. “Thank you.”
“You haven’t even seen the best part. The bladesmith has added a new feature.” Father extends his hand, reaching for a notch I hadn’t noticed along the handle. He presses it down.
A metal spike springs from the tip of the shaft, right in between the blades.
I gasp in excitement. “This is wonderful.”
“Only the best for my daughter.”
I set the ax down to grip my father in a hug. He pats my shoulder once before holding me back at arm’s length. Warriors do not embrace. Men do not like long hugs.
For the hundredth time, I wonder why I can’t be a warrior and a woman.
But I don’t let Father see my disappointment. I lift my old ax from my back and replace it with the new one.
“It looks good on you,” Father says. “Now come. We’re due at the amphitheater.”
We jog past many townsfolk on their way to the trial: miners with soot-stained hands, broad-shouldered builders, hunters with throwing hatchets hanging off belts at their waists, jewelers wearing their best pieces as advertisements, healers heavy-laden with slings of bandages, ointments, and other remedies.
Today no one has to work. Today is a day of trial, and all the apprentices who have turned eighteen throughout the year will get to partake in the individual trials of their trades. The whole village shows up for the warrior test—even those who don’t have children participating. Simply put, ours is the most exciting to watch.
I’m sure my mother would prefer to stay home, but she wouldn’t dare disappoint Father by not showing up to give her support.
An arena is located on the most eastern edge of the village. An amphitheater was carved out of rock hundreds of years ago; in the center rests a maze built of rock and metal.
Most of the village has already gathered. Old men with metal staffs hobble up the stairs. Children cling to their mothers, anxious over the close proximity of the wild resting beyond the inna trees. Warriors who have already passed their trials stand guard at the tree line and around the maze, ready to step in should any of the beasts inside get loose.
I should probably be nervous, but I’m not. I have fought the ziken before during training exercises. And it’s hard to be scared with the heavy weight of an ax against my back.
Father separates from me once we reach the ground level of the maze to talk with Master Burkin about the trial. As I watch him go, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. Irrenia is waving wildly to get my attention from up in the amphitheater seats. I return the gesture, happy that she’s here. Mother and the rest of my sisters are there as well, seated beside her. Salvanya and her husband, Ugatos, stand and offer brief waves. Tormosa, Ashari, and Alara stand as well to show their support, and the latter puts her fingers to her lips to give off a loud whistle. Only Mother is seated and purposefully looking away from me.
Someone nudges my shoulder.
“Are you nervous?” Torrin asks.
“Torrin, I’m so sorry. How are you feeling?” His eyes are rimmed with sleepless red, and his body sags with exhaustion.
“Never better,” he says, completely undaunted. “Think nothing of yesterday. I’d do it again to spend more time with you.”
My face warms at the words. I answer his initial question. “I’m not nervous. Are you?”
“Of course. Everyone’s watching. Your father’s watching.”
I know he says this because my father is the most important man in the village, but part of me hopes it is also because he plans to court me after the trial and he wants to make a good impression. Especially after last night.
I remember my resolve to kiss him after the trial, and my heart does a flip in my chest. It must be a private moment. I don’t think I’m brave enough to kiss him in front of the others. And if he rejects me, then I don’t want anyone to witness that, either.
“You’re staring at me,” Torrin says.
“You’re the only thing here worth looking at.” I’m surprised by the brazen words after they’ve left my mouth.
But Torrin doesn’t tease me for them.
“That’s not true,” he says, locking eyes with me.
For the first time today, a bit of nervous energy stirs in my belly. I laugh off his comment.
“Warriors, quiet yourselves!” Master Burkin calls, silencing our chatter. “There are various entrances to the maze, so I will be spreading you out. Follow me. Be ready when the doors open, but don’t enter until you hear the horn blow.
“The rules of the trial are simple. The hourglass will turn. By the end of the hour, you all must have killed at least one ziken and you must avoid being bitten. Anyone who fails to meet both requirements will face banishment and the mattugr.”
A spike of fear ripples down the assembled warriors.
Burkin turns. As one group, we follow. A foot blocks my path, but I jump over it before I can trip.
“The maze is a dangerous place for a rat,” Havard says. “There’s more than ziken to worry about in there.”
I narrow my eyes at Havard. It would be just like him to spoil this for me, to try to get me banished and left to die outside the village.
“Tell me, Havard, will you be able to see the ziken charging at you past your broken nose?”
It’s swollen to twice its usual size and bent horribly to the side. I hadn’t realized I’d kicked him so hard during training yesterday, and it must have been too dark last night for me to notice.
Havard scowls at me. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”
He walks off. Torrin steps in front of me before I can get any ideas to follow.
“You four, enter here,” Master Burkin says. He starts divvying us up, putting three to four people at each entrance as we circle around the arena.
“Rasmira, Torrin, Siegert, and Kol, you stand at this door. Best of luck, Rasmira, though I know you don’t need it.”
“Thank you,” I say flatly, irritated that he hasn’t given anyone else the same good wishes.
A look of frustration crosses Torrin’s face at the words. Before I can say anything to try to make up for what I cannot control, the look disappears.
“It’s a lot different viewing the maze from this angle, isn’t it?” Torrin asks as he pulls
his ax off his back.
The rest of us do the same. Siegert and Kol glance at me with cruel smiles on their lips, as if they know something I do not.
“The walls seem higher,” I say, avoiding their stares.
The metal door starts to lift, pulleys screeching as it heaves upward. While we wait for the horn to sound, I take another chance to survey the crowd. My father has joined the rest of my family. Their eyes are all on me. Now I really feel waves of tension. Mother is watching me. I can’t mess up. Even if it’s impossible, I have to try to make her proud. I cannot be hated by her my whole life. Once I pass my trial and become a woman, I have the option to live in my own home. She’ll have Father at the house without me. She’ll get the attention she craves from him. Goddess knows I receive too much of it.
Everything will be the way it should have been from the beginning.
The deep blare of the horn sounds above the chatter of hundreds of voices. My stomach plunges to my toes, and Torrin and I are off.
The ground is uneven. I lift my feet high above the rocks as I run to avoid tripping. Some grass cracks through in places, breaking up the ground further. Siegert and Kol race against us. At the first fork in the maze, they veer right while Torrin and I head left.
I relax a little once they’re gone. It’s easier to focus when it’s only me and Torrin. Now if I could just forget the fact that my mother is watching me from the seating above the arena …
Low shrieks sound throughout the maze. Someone has run into the ziken already.
“Come on,” I say, excitement pulsing through my veins. Torrin quickens his pace to keep up with me. We turn right, left, left, right, plunging as deep into the maze as possible, listening to the hungry calls of the ziken.
We take one more turn before a flash of black streaks across my vision.
“Finally,” I breathe.
The ziken halts and turns as soon as it hears us coming.
When standing on all fours, most ziken are between two and three feet tall. Instead of fur, they have a shiny black exoskeleton, as thick as any armor forged by man. Their eyes bulge outward, like an insect’s, and I can see my reflection multiplied a hundred times in the faceted eyes of the beast before me. Its legs end in sharp claws, and its mouth unhinges to let out an unsettling cackle. Bulbous red-orange eyes fix on me, and then it flies toward us at a gallop, tail whisking behind it.
Warrior of the Wild Page 3