by Zara Quentin
Nothing had changed since Papa died, yet everything was different. His absence tilted the world off its axis and everything was skewed.
Opposite Jade, Mama sat on a cushion embroidered in a tight red and gold geometric pattern. She clasped her hands together in her lap, knuckles white, as she stared across the room, her mouth set in a thin line. She hadn’t said a word—hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked at Jade—since Jade had shared her decision.
Jade picked at a thread in the embroidered cushion next to her, watching Mama’s every move.
“Mama,” Jade said, gently breaking the silence. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
Mama blinked, her head snapped around and her hard, narrow eyes fixed on Jade. She leaned forward. “Tell them no.”
Jade swallowed. It took all her effort to shake her head.
“No—”
“Yes!” Mama slammed a fist onto the table, startling Jade. “Your father is dead. You have responsibilities here. Nobody would judge you.”
Jade looked down at the thread she had pulled from the cushion—a twist of gold escaping its stitch; breaking the symmetry of the geometric pattern set starkly against the red fabric. Her chest and throat were tight; it was difficult to breathe. She shook her head.
“Look at me!” Mama sat straight-backed as her hands gripped the edge of the low table that separated them. The lines of her frown exaggerated the angles of her face.
With effort, Jade lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “I need to do this. Please understand.”
Mama’s eyes narrowed further. “You need to put yourself in danger? You need to get yourself killed? Did you think about how this would affect me and the twins? How much heartbreak do we have to suffer?”
Jade reeled backwards as Mama’s words lashed at her. It took a moment to recover her voice. “Mama—”
Mama leaned over the table and pointed a finger at Jade. Red spots darkened her cheeks. “You’re making a mistake.” Mama spat the words through clenched teeth. Tears blurred Jade’s vision.
“Esme.”
Zorman stood in the doorway. A thump in another room told her the twins had returned from their outing with their uncle.
“Jade’s grown up. She needs to live her life, like we lived ours. When she’s ready, she’ll come back.”
“Not always.” Mama spat the words out, as though they tasted bitter. She sat back on her haunches, her shoulders rounded, and her eyes filled with tears. She turned her face away from both of them. “They don’t always come back.”
“Mama—” Jade reached out to take Mama’s hand in hers, wanting to close the yawning chasm that had opened between them.
Mama snatched her hand away and stood up. She turned a dark stare at Jade. “If you do this, you go without my permission. If you leave, don’t come back until you’re back for good.”
Jade’s mouth fell open. The ground shifted and tilted around her, throwing the world off-balance again. She had not expected this. Mama turned her back on both of them and marched out of the room.
Jade didn’t move until long after Mama disappeared into the depths of their home. She was being selfish—Mama needed her, and she was leaving.
But to stay meant giving up everything she’d ever wanted.
The hope she’d felt when Zorman proposed this scheme had vanished. Jade’s shoulders slumped.
Zorman knelt on the cushion with the loose thread and pulled Jade’s hands away from her face. His hand on her shoulder was heavy, anchoring her in place. A sob escaped Jade’s lips and tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked up at Zorman, his face blurred by her tears.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll look after them. Your mother will be all right. Your brothers, too.”
Jade gulped down the lump in her throat. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Jade whispered. The words caused an ache in her chest.
Zorman studied her. “It’s your decision. Know this, though—you stand at a crossroad. If you do not take this opportunity, it may not come again.” Silence hung between them as his words rang in Jade’s ears. When she said nothing, Zorman continued, “If you want my advice, go and enlist. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back. I’ll make sure our family and our company are doing well when you return.”
A weight lifted from her shoulders. She relaxed, and Zorman enfolded her into a hug, his strong arms were the only thing holding her together.
“Thank you, Uncle Z,” Jade whispered into his shirt. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Zorman wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. Then he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “It’s all going to work out just the way it’s supposed to,” he whispered.
7
Directly overhead, the sun lit up the blue and gold mosaic design set into the floor of Our Lady’s Court. In the black uniform of a Traveller, Jade stood shoulder-to-shoulder with seven others in her training unit, arranged in a semi-circle around the mosaic design of the sleeping Dragon-God. Jade’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t sure whether she was excited or nervous.
At last, at last, she was where she’d always dreamed of being.
She imagined Axel’s warm eyes, full of pride as he watched her from the shadows along the edges of the Temple’s central courtyard. Jade held her breath, searching for him; wishing he would appear with a few words of encouragement before she entered the Traveller Force’s training program. She held her breath, looking upwards, but Axel didn’t appear in the sky or the courtyard. Her shoulders rounded—Axel wouldn’t be making an appearance today, just like he hadn’t come any other day since Papa’s death.
Jade looked at the other trainees waiting for the welcome ceremony to begin. They were younger, about sixteen and straight out of school. A couple of them greeted as friends. Would she have been so nervous if she had trained in the same unit as Kyssa or Neve? Jade pushed the thought aside without dwelling on the answer. The past was past. This was the training unit she was assigned to and she had to make the best of it.
Jade met the eyes of a girl with light hair, shaved in the style of Travellers, who stood on the other side of the circle. The girl reminded her of Kyssa and Jade shot her a small smile—the first tentative offer of friendship.
The girl sized Jade up. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and hissed, “I know you—you went to my school, two years ahead of me. Why are you training now?”
The smile fell from Jade’s face.
“Maybe she failed the first time,” one of the boys joked.
“No—” Jade shook her head.
“Maybe she’s a spy, planted to rat on us when the officers aren’t here,” another boy suggested.
“No—” Jade said, but she was cut-off again.
“I know who she is,” the first girl’s eyes widened. “She’s the Gariq girl. Her father pulled strings to get her out of service. Twice. Now he’s dead, so she had to enlist.”
Someone around the circle sniggered.
“It wasn’t like that,” Jade said.
One of the others opened their mouth to speak, but the group silenced as three officers entered the courtyard.
Air Marshall Scosse led the group. To his right was Air Vice Marshall Wallen, Chief of the Traveller Force. Jade knew both men through her father. Scosse—the Lord Protector, leader of the Taraqan government and titular head of the Traveller Force—was a longtime friend of Papa’s. While he’d been alive, Papa had sat on his Council of Advisors, and had often met with Scosse to brief him about conditions for trade and business news off-world. Jade had recently accompanied him to some of these meetings, and had only recently represented Papa on an errand to Scosse.
Wallen had been Papa’s close personal friend. They served together in their younger days and Wallen had been a regular visitor to their home. Once, Papa had praised Wallen’s promotion to Air Vice Marshall as embodying the honour of the Traveller Force. Papa had held both men in high esteem. Jade wondered if either of them would kno
w her in her black uniform.
Slightly behind Scosse stood a mid-ranking officer. The insignia across his left breast pocket marked him as a Squadron Leader.
The three officers completed the circle. The Squadron Leader led the group in saluting Scosse. Jade rushed to copy but her salute was clumsy and slow.
“Welcome.” Scosse looked at every member of the training unit in turn. “I am pleased to see you all here at the very start of your service to Our Lady Taraqa and the Dragonverse. This is the highest calling for any Taraqan and its fulfilment is the sacred duty of us all. Some of you will spend two years with us, and then go back to your lives. You will be able to hold your head high among us. Others will find your true calling here and will choose to spend your life as a Traveller.” Scosse spoke briskly, and his words were rehearsed. Jade didn’t doubt he had said these words to new training groups many times before. He barely looked at her as he scanned the group.
“I welcome you and wish you well as you undertake your training. I hope you follow the path of your Taraqan ancestors and make us all proud.”
The Squadron Leader lead them in another salute, which seemed to mark the end of Scosse’s speech. Then Wallen cleared his throat.
“I also welcome you all to the Traveller Force.” Wallen smiled warmly, his manner entirely different to Scosse’s. “I come to welcome each new training unit. I want to know each and every one of you because I know you are special. You are the future of the Traveller Force.” Wallen’s eyes fell on Jade, recognizing her with a quick wink. “We Travellers are charged with a duty—an important and sacred duty—to protect the Dragonverse from the beasts that would consume us all,” he continued. “To you, they may have been only a child’s fairytale—nightmares even—until now. I assure you, the Yrax are real and they are deadly. Those of us who Travel the Betwixt risk our lives. Every. Single. Time. If we did not, the Dragonverse, and all its worlds and peoples—even our Dragon-Gods—would be consumed and destroyed. We Travellers, and that group now includes each and every one of you, are all that stands between the Yrax and the Dragonverse.”
Wallen was an engaging speaker, who looked into the eyes of every trainee, talking directly to each of them. Jade stood taller as Wallen’s eyes rested on her again, moved by the passion of his speech.
“The ability to Travel is a blessing afforded to no other peoples in the Dragonverse. Such a blessing is power. With power comes great responsibility. Travellers are respected throughout the worlds, and that level of respect must be maintained. It is upon us, therefore, to act with great honour. To hold ourselves to the highest of standards and act with the best of motives. It is incumbent on each and every one of you to remember that as Travellers you must be servants, not rulers; that you must embody the honour that has always been, and must continue to be at the core of the Traveller Force.”
Jade’s chest swelled under her black uniform. She had never felt so proud to be part of something as she did at this moment. She looked from Wallen to Scosse, and was surprised to see Scosse giving him a stern look. Then, just as quickly, Scosse’s impassive expression returned and he shifted his eyes away from Wallen, staring at a spot on the wall beyond them all. Jade’s attention returned to Wallen, as he continued to speak.
“Now, I will introduce you to Squadron Leader Leuven, who will be your commanding officer for the duration of the next six weeks of your training.”
Wallen nodded at the Squadron Leader before he and Scosse withdrew. Leuven led the group in saluting the two officers as they left, before turning his attention back to them.
“Well, Airmen and Airwomen. You’ve just had the honour of listening to two of the most respected men in the Dragonverse. Enjoy it?” Leuven looked around and Jade nodded enthusiastically, as did most of the others. “Well, the time for pretty words is over. I’m going to wipe the smiles off your faces. I’ve only got six weeks to make you pack of nothings into something that those two men can be proud of. What are you waiting for? Get moving!”
* * *
Jade stood, barefoot in the red dirt. They were a few hours flight south of Ingresston, at a Force training site. The bright red targets and makeshift tents they’d brought with them were the only things that distinguished this site from the rocks and salt scrub of the flat plain stretching out in every direction. They’d camped here for three nights. They trained all day, caught and prepared their own food and were allowed a few hours of sleep at night.
Red mud caked her hair and feet, and a line of red dirt was trapped under her fingernails. Her skin was streaked with it. She itched for a shower. She rolled her shoulders to ease the muscles aching in her arms, shoulders and back. She would give anything for a comfortable bed.
Her stomach rumbled. She’d been issued with a knife, intended for skinning the animals she caught with her bow and arrow—which, so far, had been none. She hadn’t dared use the knife to try to hit one of the gyenells that scuttled over the rocks, lest she mark herself as an outcast. Instead, she’d gone hungry. According to Leuven, it built character.
It was Jade’s turn again. She squared up to the target. The sun beat down on her. The ground and target shimmered in the distance. Her throat was dry, and she felt dizzy from heat or hunger—or both.
She lifted the bow out and pulled back on the string, her arm screaming with the effort.
“Breathe in. Let go on the out.” Leuven stood at her shoulder, too close, barking instructions. The skin on her neck prickled as Jade imagined his eyes boring into the back of her head. A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of her face. She fought the urge to tip her head to the side and wipe it on her shoulder, knowing it would throw off her aim. Instead, she squinted to focus on the red circles in the distance.
She took a breath. Then loosed the arrow.
“What do you call that, Gariq?” Leuven’s voice made her jump. “That was so far wide I don’t even know where it went! You are a disgrace to the Force. Thank Our Lady that your father is no longer alive to see the dishonour you have brought upon yourself today.”
A flush spread across Jade’s chest and crawled up her neck. At the mention of Papa, tears prickled her eyes. She fought them back and pushed thoughts of Papa aside. There were a few titters and one outright laugh from the other trainees who were standing to the side watching her miss and miss again.
She was the only one still out here. The rest of them had already satisfied Leuven’s expectations for standing archery. Next, and more important—according to Leuven—they would train in aerial archery. Infinitely more difficult, Leuven had said.
Jade couldn’t hit a target when neither she nor it were moving. How would she do it while flying?
“Again, Gariq! Nobody is going anywhere until you hit that target. We will not eat or sleep until you succeed. Got it?” That silenced the crowd, though it wouldn’t endear her to her unit. Jade stared at the ground, avoiding their stares.
“Yes, sir,” Jade fetched another arrow before returning to her own footprints in the dirt.
She squinted, focusing on the target. Her eyes stung from the glare of the relentless sun, a never-ending spotlight. She hadn’t thought becoming a Traveller would be so hard. So gruelling. She wasn’t sure she had it in her.
“Let’s try this again, shall we Gariq?” Leuven barked. He bent over her—his chin almost resting on her shoulder. Jade held her breath, fighting the urge to step away. “And just so we’re clear, Gariq, I want you to aim at that big red circle out there. Not the scrub to the left or right. Got it?”
Another titter from the sidelines. She tensed, berating herself silently. Of course, it wasn’t easy. She just had to get through training. She’d wanted to be a Traveller since she started to fly. She just hoped training wouldn’t kill her before she got to the good part.
“Yes, sir.”
“Based on your other attempts, I wasn’t sure I’d made that clear,” Leuven took a step back, but Jade still felt crowded by his presence. She took some deep breaths, stead
ying herself.
“Anytime you’re ready, Gariq!” Leuven barked. “Do you think you’ll have this long when a Yrax is coming at you?”
Jade raised her bow with stiff arms and aimed. She would hit it with a knife in one try, but she couldn’t admit that to Leuven. He’d laugh her out of the Force.
Traveller considered throwing knives was barbaric and uncivilised. The bow and arrow was an ancient and honourable weapon that every Traveller had to master.
So, Jade had to master it, too.
As Jade focused on the target, she remembered training with Axel in Vertin Gorge. It had been a completely different experience. Axel’s guidance had been light, gentle. Her skin tingled, remembering the way the curve of her body had fit against his when he’d stood behind her—so close—and corrected her stance and grip.
The target blurred as hot tears welled at Jade’s eyes. Where was Axel? Had he returned to Taraqa? Would he seek her out?
She blinked frantically to dispel her tears before Leuven noticed.
“Gariq!” Leuven yelled, sighing theatrically. “If you move any slower you’ll fossilise where you’re standing. Hit that target so we can all move on!”
Jade pushed Axel’s warm eyes from her mind and took several steadying breaths. The muscles in her shoulders screamed as she fixed her eyes on the target.
She breathed in and pulled back on the string of her bow.
8
A crackling sound distracted her, and Jade let go of her arrow unexpectedly. She winced, expecting a barrage of criticism from Leuven, as her arrow buried itself in the scrub to the left of the target. Leuven remained silent, now listening intently to his radio. Then he clipped the radio back onto his belt and spun around.