by Mark Ryan
Reynolds faced the courtyard, his cloak’s hood casting his features in shadow. The ramparts and parapets of the castle were lit only by the dimmest of volamps, to not ruin the sentries’ night vision. Mikkels didn’t have to see to know the sergeant’s left eye twitched in frustration.
“At this point, I’ve done all I can. If my misuse of the scouts is ever found out, I’d be lucky to just get knocked down to private—I could be executed for treason. Lord Drayston can’t take any action without sanctions from the King’s council. He knows we saw what we saw, but until he throws an oroc head on their table and can prove they intend to assault more human territory, they won’t let us violate the treaties.” Reynolds shook his head again. “Even then, there’d just be talk and more talk, with plenty of factions calling for peace up until the moment the orocs tear down their own homes. No one wants to be blamed for starting a war.”
Mikkels understood, though this hardly meant he agreed. Strict adherence to the treaties had bought them a hundred years of peace with the orocs, not something anyone wanted to jeopardize without definite evidence. He didn’t understand a lot of the kingdom’s politics, but that he got.
Mikkels sometimes wondered if the five they’d killed didn’t even have anything to do with the Jaegen attack. But the boy remained unwavering in claiming the orocs were responsible, even if he had a few blurry memories of the actual event and aftermath.
Thinking about Tetra brought a grin to his face. “How long do you think it will take tonight, sir?”
“Not sure. It’s later than usual. Maybe he doesn’t want to come out in the cold. But then again …”
Kellian glanced over his shoulder and spied the young man hobbling out of the infirmary door. Alma’s hound, Kafa, was watching him from a warmer spot in the doorway. The boy’s awkward gait spoke of deep injury, and even from this distance, his face could be seen as a mask of pain. He carried his father’s sword, as he had almost every night since he took it from the training racks. At least tonight he’d also remembered to wear a cloak.
Kellian remembered the first night he’d witnessed Tetra drag himself into the courtyard. Another dreary night watch for him, which had turned out to be a more remarkable night than he’d expected. They’d all heard the rumors round the castle—the boy would never walk again. Lucky, in fact, if he survived another week or two. Then he marveled at the spectacle of Tetra hauling himself along on his hands and elbows until he collapsed … followed by his workouts in the infirmary room and Sergeant Reynold’s order to put the sword in the training courtyard.
Seeing him now, sword in hand, on his own two feet, it lifted the chill from Kellian’s shoulders. If the boy could display such an indomitable spirit … there was no way Mikkels could call himself a soldier in the face of that if he let a cold night drag him down.
Both men watched the scene below. Tetra reached the courtyard and eased into a series of stretches, limbering up before he started hacking into one of the training dummies. Always the same dummy, too, Mikkels noticed. Each chop of the sword came slow, with a strained hitch of the boy’s shoulders; yet he struck the straw and wooden chips more often than not. The faint knocks of metal on wood drifted up from the courtyard.
Reynolds mumbled, “Give me a full squad with soldiers half as tough as him, and I’d face down an army of orocs.”
Kellian grunted in agreement. He’d broken his leg once and had refused to put any substantial weight on it for almost two months. A gust of wind ruffled his cloak, and he shivered.
“Not used to the cold yet, hm?” The sergeant flicked a bit of frost off the crenellation he leaned on.
“In Vuldaramere, the coldest things are the lakes we go swimming in year-round. Sir.” Kellian felt warmer just thinking about home.
“I’ve never been down that way. I hear it’s fine country.”
“Best land in Promencia,” Kellian straightened a bit with pride.
“Home always is.”
“Where’s home for y—”
“Oh, Aspects be merciful,” Reynolds leaned over the wall, staring into the courtyard. “The good healer must’ve been working late.”
Kellian frowned, wondering why the sergeant dodged the question. Then his gaze traveled to Healer Alma, who’d entered the training yard and stopped Tetra’s practice. To his surprise, the healer didn’t march the boy back to his room. Instead, he helped him sit down in the dirt and appeared to be having a calm conversation. Then he stood and massaged Tetra’s back, pressing here and there, helping him bend and stretch.
“Looks like they’ve reached some sort of agreement,” Mikkels was surprised. Last he had heard, Tetra was going to be tied to a bed if he tried to get up.
“You’d think so,” Reynolds said, tone going dark. “But Alma sent me a few requests just the other day. Seems he feels the boy is reckless and remains a danger to himself. He’s given him a few concessions, but these nightly sessions apparently aren’t part of the arrangement. He wants me to post a guard to keep the boy inside each evening. And I’m to confiscate his sword until permission is given for its return. His note didn’t say it outright, but I think that he’s willing to bring the matter up with Lord Drayston if I don’t comply.”
Mikkels scowled. He recognized the need to let injuries heal, but taking away the boy’s ability to train, especially in the face of his determination, would be even more crippling than the wounds he’d suffered. “What’re you going to do, sir?”
The sergeant sighed. “Healer Alma is right. The boy is a danger to himself.”
“Sir, really, can you be so—”
“Which is why I’m putting him under your supervision.”
“Sir?”
Reynolds pulled his hood back, revealing a sly grin. “How’d you like to get out of night watch for a while, Corporal?”
Mikkels held his breath, waiting for the sergeant to get to the point, not daring to guess.
The other man squared his shoulders. “First, I want you to confiscate his sword and return it to the training racks. He only gets to use it while in the yard and doesn’t get to wear it on his person until he learns to properly care for a weapon. I won’t have any men under my watch being sloppy with their equipment.”
A shade of a smile worked onto Mikkels’ lips. “Yes, sir.”
“Then I’m reassigning you from the walls to the infirmary until further notice. He wants to learn how to fight, but he’s going to get all sorts of bad habits and techniques stuck in his bones doing it on his own. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to start showing him how to fight properly.” Reynolds moved toward the stairs. “Night sessions only, for now. Start with hand to hand.”
“You’re trusting me with his training? I could break him if I push too hard.”
“Then break him. He hasn’t given himself any mercy. Why should we? Test him. See how deep his iron really goes.”
“And what about Healer Alma, sir?” Mikkels rubbed his hands together, warmed by the prospect of being inside and helping this boy
“Leave him to me. I’ve faced down worse.”
Kellian saluted. “Yes, sir.”
***
Chapter 30
Halli Bicks
The caves proved much warmer than Halli had expected. Small hollows carved into the walls had heat and light coming from them. Halli wondered how deep they went. The main cave opening led into a tunnel that stretched at least fifty feet back, before splitting up into a series of wide tunnels and side-rooms. Most of these appeared to be used for storage, at least those she had gone to for supplies with her guard. The air held a musty smell, mingled with the scent of wet vegetation.
An empty side-cave had been converted into another cage for the girls, slightly larger than the vine and tree prison. Insets in the walls became beds for the younger girls, while the rest slept on the smooth floor, creating mats and blankets out of the furred skins they’d been given. An oroc sealed the single opening to the room with earthen bars every time Halli came b
ack in, leaving just enough space to let in fresh air.
Despite the welcome warmth and spaciousness, their new cage came with a significant drawback—a return to the tasteless mush they’d been fed at the beginning of their captivity. Halli played with the gray paste in her bowl, unable to bring herself to force it down. She looked around and noted the same malcontent on the other girls’ faces as they ate.
She wrestled with guilt, believing her attempt to talk to the boys had convinced the orocs to take away her privilege of making better meals. Either that, or the orocs had begun preserving their dried provisions for the winter months, and didn’t believe the humans deserved such treats. At least they were out of the frosts and light snows now.
Rising, Halli went over and scooped the gruel into Kat’s open mouth. She gently massaged the muscles in Kat’s throat, making her swallow the sustenance. At least she didn’t have to taste it, and perhaps the extra food would spur her recovery.
A burst of high-pitched coughs made her drop the bowl and whirl around. Leesa curled up in her stony inset, little body wracked by her hacking.
“No … no …” Halli rushed over and grabbed one of the girl’s trembling arms. A brush of her affinity confirmed her fears. Liquid in the lungs again. The other girl who’d developed this sickness had recovered after a week of Halli’s ministrations, but Leesa’s symptoms appeared more severe. As quickly as Halli forced the girl’s lungs to expel the fluid, it trickled back in.
Leesa’s coughs turned wet and she frothed at the mouth. Her eyes rolled back showing just the whites.
Laney appeared at Halli’s side, pale and wide-eyed. “What’s wrong? What’s happening to her?”
“Water or some sort of liquid in her lungs,” Halli said, closing her eyes to focus. “It’ll suffocate her if I can’t stop it.”
“What’s causing it?”
Halli sushed her friend, thinking desperately. “I don’t know. I … I don’t know. Something about the heat and cold and … I just don’t know.” Nor did she feel she possessed the strength to deal with this. Keeping the other girls from dying had taken almost her full strength. Now, with reduced rations again and her affinity remaining weakened, she didn’t know how far she could stretch their survival. But she couldn’t let Leesa die.
A thump startled her and made the two girls spin around. Gnarrl stood outside the cell. A pass of his hand dispersed enough of the earthen bars for someone to walk through, and the oroc pointed at her. “Come.”
Halli shook her head and patted the air above Leesa. “She’s dying. I have to stay here. Do you see?”
Gnarrl’s eyes narrowed. “You come. You obey. Or …” He spread hands to indicate all the girls. “No food. No water.”
Nails cutting into her palms, Halli fought not to attack their captor right then. What could be so important he’d let Leesa die and threaten the rest with starvation? How could she find a way out of this? She felt so trapped … so helpless. “Okay. One moment. Please. I have to get her stable.”
Laney sidled closer. “What can I do?”
Halli turned her to Leesa and traced the paths of the girl’s throat and lungs. “Use your Vorten affinity. Try to keep drawing air in and out of her chest. Keep her breathing until I get back. Get …” She scanned the girls present. “Maya to draw the water from her lungs, a little at a time. Make sure she doesn’t choke.”
Leaning in, she kissed Leesa’s forehead. Aspects, forgive me and keep her safe. Don’t let me break my promise. Then she got up and followed Gnarrl.
The oroc led her down the main cave and sat before a heat vent just inside the entrance. The vent was cut into the floor, and a warm glow rose from it. A light snowfall dusted the ground outside the cave, turning the orocs’ forest village into white mounds and columns, dotted by the occasional vibrant flowering plant they kept alive despite the freezing temperatures. As the orocs went about work, the snow piled on their shoulders and heads, but they didn’t seem to notice or care. Halli wondered how heavily it must be falling to come through the forest canopy this thickly.
Gnarrl tapped her head to get her attention back. As she sat opposite the vent to him, he rearranged the vines coiled around his arms and hands. “I need know. About you saplings.”
Halli frowned. “About us? What do you mean?”
“Ages. Skills.” He appeared to struggle for a word. “Your … affinities, yes? Your magics. Your training.”
“Why are you asking all this now?” Halli flung an arm out, letting her contained distress get the better of her now that the other girls couldn’t see. Months of frustrations bubbled to the surface. “You’ve had us for months. You’ve let us just sit in cages like animals, and now you care enough to ask? Why did you bring us here? Why did you attack our village? Why did you kill our families? Why even let us live?”
The oroc’s leathery face crinkled with what she took to be irritation. “I ask. You answer. Is important.”
Halli slumped back. “I get it. We’re just your prisoners. You don’t really care. You just want to use us for something, is that it?” When he remained flat-faced, she sighed. “What do you want to know?”
For several hours, Gnarrl interrogated her in his halting human speech. He asked about their upbringing, their methods of training, and what their Elders had taught them about their affinities. Halli rambled, letting herself get lost in happier memories when the village had bustled with life and hope. She found herself talking about the Jaegen Seven and their intended journey to the Academy. Four boys, three girls, all dreaming of serving the kingdom in their own ways.
For some reason, he perked up when they started talking about the boys. He asked her to describe them, what affinities they possessed, and how strong they were. She took pride in explaining the potential the Elders saw in them, and how the Academy scouts had invited them all to train and study in Aldamere … Even that someday she may be an Archmage.
At last, his questions waned and he stared into the glow rising from the thermal vent. Halli waited, feeling stuffed with all her own unanswered questions.
Then Gnarrl rose and pointed back to the cave prison. “You go.”
Halli stared up at him. “Please, can you just tell me why? Just that. Why did you attack us?”
Gnarrl crouched, his knees as high as her head as she sat. His wide eyes gleamed black in the firelight. A frown framed his features. “Humans betray orocs. Attack orocs. Kill orocs. Whole tribe gone. Burned. But not human saplings. Human …” He struggled for a word, “harvesters.”
Halli gaped. “We … we didn’t do it! Nobody from Jaegen ever attacked your people. I swear by the Aspects.”
He placed a large hand gently on her shoulder. “To human, oroc is oroc, yes? To orocs, human is human. You take our lives, we take yours. Balance comes, no?” He straightened and strode for the cave mouth.
“You call this balance?” Her voice rose. “This isn’t balance, it’s just murder!”
He paused as a guard strode past him to escort Halli. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he’d return and explain more. But, after a second, he left the cave, leaving the other club wielding oroc to watch over her. Halli rose, tempted to run after Gnarrl and tackle him, demanding answers even if the attempt got her killed.
Then a fresh burst of coughs echoed from the cave recesses. She rushed for the prison room, not needing any guard to spur her on. No more dying. Not while she still lived.
***
Chapter 31
Tetra Bicks
Tetra hated his bed. It was just a soft prison, holding him back. He hated how he knew every stone in the walls of his room. How he knew exactly the way he moon and starlight threw silvery patterns on the floor, and how they inched along ever so slowly until they marked the hour he felt it safe enough to emerge without the healer finding out.
Maybe he should’ve held to their agreement. Let himself heal a little longer until Alma was convinced he could withstand the stresses of training. But it took too long. Ever
ything took too long, and now winter was in full blast, freezing the castle and coating everything with snow and ice.
As the nights chilled and the windows frosted, he easily imagined Halli and other Jaegen survivors lost in the forest, or in oroc cages, left exposed to the weather until they froze to death. It terrified him to think of spending all this effort to march into the Rocmire, only to at last discover their stiff, snow-covered corpses in some forgotten grove.
As he fought this fear, his door opened. A dark-haired soldier, with piercing blue eyes, tromped into the room. He went straight to Tetra’s sword and plucked it up.
“Leave that alone,” Tetra cried as he sat up. His stomach and back protested at the sudden motion, but he’d gotten better at shoving the pain aside. “That’s mine!”
The soldier flourished the blade. “Is it? I see a soldier’s weapon, not a boy’s. What’s your rank? Who’s your commander?” At Tetra’s confused silence, he grinned. “You want it? It’ll be in the training yard every night from now on. Come and get it if you think you’re man enough.”
As he moved to leave, Tetra reached out with his affinity and increased the sword’s weight. Reaching across the room with his magic didn’t even require an effort anymore. The guardsman staggered and fought to keep hold of the hilt as the blade clanked against the floor. He grunted, dragging it a few grinding inches. Then he flashed a grin at Tetra.
“Tricky,” he said. “But you’ll discover you aren’t the only one who knows how to pull a trick or two.”
Letting the sword fall, the guardsman grabbed up the water pitcher and tossed the contents into the air. To Tetra’s surprise, the gush of water formed into a ball that floated over to him. With no warning it dropped onto his head. He spluttered, losing focus and control over his affinity. When he wiped his eyes clear, the guardsman had disappeared along with the sword.