by C. K. Rieke
In the mirror, she scanned her face, and saw her deep, violet eyes and the scar just at the tip of her eyebrow. Lifting more water to her face, she tried to wash the thought from her mind. She ran an ivory comb through her hair that fell to just below her chest. Once it was straightened and clean, she pulled it back and tied it in the traditional knot behind her, a knot made with a band of thin leather, and a pick set firmly to hold it.
She went back to her bunk, she noticed the other girls watching her, scanning her for weakness, as they were all trained to do. Lilaci was an expert at hiding anything that could be considered that. Laying on her back staring up to watch the candlelight flickering on the clay ceiling. Again, a memory ran through her mind of a night long ago in a tent, and a terrible feeling shot in her stomach. She rolled over and lay on her side, trying to shift her thoughts to something else. So she pictured the stances of the Jonjico, or the battle tactics of the old general Orynix.
Every day here, in Sorock, feels the same. Training, fighting, learning the ways of the Lu-Polini. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens here. Elan is only hard on me to make me stronger. I’m going to become a great assassin someday, and make her and Commander Veranor proud. Yet— I can’t shake off these thoughts I have. I know they’re real, I just don’t remember what happened. It must’ve happened when I was very young. I don’t know if I want to remember. Every time I see those eyes, it feels like a dagger in my stomach, twisting its way deeper. That’s the way of Sorock, none of us have pasts that are happy and pleasant. We were born to be cursed. All we have left now is to make ourselves the best— the Oncur.
At least I have him to talk to, he’s my only escape from our lives in this place, without Gogenanth, I don’t know how I’d go on.
Chapter Three
Lilaci didn’t remember it, perhaps because she was so young when she was taken, but there was another with her as they walked the sands with her family’s murderers on their way to Sorock. He was just a boy at the time, and she only a little girl.
That night, once the other girls were sound asleep in their bunks, Lilaci rolled quietly from hers, laying her blanket back onto the bed without a whisper of sound, and found her way out the window next to her bed, as silently as a cat in grass.
She stuck to the shadows and avoided the flickering torchlight on the roads. Leaving the barracks past curfew was forbidden, and bode a harsh punishment if any were found out strolling in the moonlight, but Lilaci had become an expert of stealth, after all, she’d been given great training in that skill. She didn’t know the endgame of her training yet, but she’d find out before too long.
Kneeling low, and with her soft hands caressing her bare feet, she dipped under another barracks near hers and shot through an alley between two clay offices to find a boy sitting in a dark recess, in shadow. It was an intersection of two of the high walls of Sorock’s perimeter, covered in vines.
Lilaci ran over, silently, and fell into the recess next to the boy. She pulled her knees up tightly to her chest, looked down at the sand at her feet, and slowly lay her head on the strong boy’s shoulder.
The bright light of the moon drifted over the wall at their backs, letting in white moonshine on the rest of the camp, giving each of the structures a long shadow on that starless night. A cool wind whipped through, howling as it flowed in and out of their windows like a low-pitched flute.
There they sat for over an hour, not speaking a word to each other, not making any movements to get closer or farther away from each other— just sitting. It was the only physical contact she’d gotten in Sorock that wasn’t aggressive or instructive. At that moment it was just two people, touching, ever so slightly. Occasionally she could even sense their hearts beating in rhythm. She felt a gentle stir come from the boy with the strong face and shoulders.
“Lilaci?” the boy asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“How long have we been coming here?”
“I— I don’t know exactly. Years, at least. Why?”
“I had that dream again last night,” the boy said. “It kept me awake. I saw faces . . . Faces from the past, back from when we were last on the sands. I’m just trying to figure how long ago that was, I lost track of the years long ago.”
Lilaci didn’t respond, but only thought of her own struggles with the faces that drifted in and out of her mind.
“I have nightmares too,” he said. “I have nightmares of the night I was with the Scaethers when they took you, and took your family. I should have been able to do something, I should have tried to stop them. I should have tried harder. I knew what they were going to do, its what they did to my family. I’m sorry, I regret not doing more.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Gogenanth, don’t think that. There’s no more you could’ve done for my family than you could’ve done for yours. You were just a boy, and I a girl. We had no strength or training to stop them and their bloodlust.”
He groaned. “I’m going to kill the one who took my family one day, one day I’m going to leave this place and kill him, and perhaps then my soul will be able to rest.”
“For your sake, I hope you do, and I look for the answer to that question. I don’t know if you’re lucky you remember those times in the past, or if it’s a curse. I know you are a bit older than I, but I don’t know if I want to remember the murder of my family. I don’t know if I want to remember being taken here. It hurts too much when I try to remember. It’s all bit and pieces, like a broken mirror, fragmented. So broken I’d cut myself trying to put it all back together. But I can’t ignore my feelings. I can imagine my mother, her loving eyes, but it always makes me sad. I can feel that my soul yearns for vengeance. My heart can’t rest until it finds it, and then maybe the nightmares will go away. Until then, we’re trapped here, training restlessly. Perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise. To kill the strong, you must be stronger. And when those murderers are dead, maybe then we will know peace.”
“I believe you will find it,” he said. “You’ve become the best of the girls here, I suspect you’ll be moving on with your training soon. Commander Veranor may be grooming you to become an instructor, and more in the coming months. I’ve heard they teach skills beyond what we are learning now. They’ll teach to escape captivity once they're sure we’re not leaving.”
“Veranor,” she said with disdain. “He may be the commander of Sorock, but I can see it in his eyes, he cares for nothing else but power. He would wish himself to be a god himself if he were in the Vallenen class, with the kings and queens. I know it.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” he said. “His eyes show me he has killed many, just as the Scaethers themselves bore.”
She looked into his eyes. She looked at his pale face and strong jaw. He was Lu-Polini as she was. He may have had the same features as the other boys in Sorock, but as strong and skilled as he was, when he smiled all of her troubles melted away. There was a tenderness about him she didn’t find anywhere else in their camp. “Someday we’ll have some sort of vengeance,” she said. “But until then, at least we have this.” She saw a smile come to the face of the boy with the dark-green eyes next to her..
“Yes, I’m glad too.”
“In this hell, at least we have each other, Gogenanth.”
Chapter Four
In the golden glow of the rising sun, Sorock began to stir with the instructors preparing for that day's lessons, the cooks preparing fresh meals for the children, and the rows of barracks bustling with their rising students. Sorock itself began to glow from the sun’s rays. It’s high walls splintered from the shadows of the thin vines that flowed down them. The rows of clay buildings with thatched roofs lined the camp separated by boot-worn pathways. In the middle of the desert the camp of Sorock was adorned with dozens of fresh-water fountains, brimming with cool, clear water so the children could drink to their heart's content. And above it all, looming like a temple that only the gods could have built, was the
Palace of Voru, Erodoran.
Voru was the sprawling city that Sorock was nestled in. In the lands of the Arr, there were only three cities, all placed upon the Three Great Oasi. Voru was placed upon the Great Oasis of Noruz. At its center was Erodoran, the palace of the royal family. The palace was a high-rising, six-sided pyramid that let the sun’s light reflect off its thousands of reflective windows that cascaded down its long sides. At each of its six sides stood a grand statue, each of solid gold, and each ten times the size of the tallest of men. Each one a representation of each of the six gods, each looking out over the entirety of the city, and over Sorock itself. Lilaci always made it a point not to look at the palace for too long, not wanting its heavy eyes to fall down on her.
After returning to her bunk in the night and getting a full three hours of rest before the rising of the sun and the warm dawn, Lilaci performed her morning ritual. She dipped her toes into her wicker-woven sandals, walked over to the basin, washed her face, and rinsed her mouth. Then, in the mirror, she brushed her black hair back behind her head, and tied it in the formal knot with the leather strip and pick. She then changed into soft, thin linens— her pants tied at her waist with a red sash, and left her knees exposed. Her shirt fell loosely around her neck, but left her arms and shoulders bare. From her back, she lifted her light tan hood over her head. Lastly, she pulled up her leather boots that rose just over her ankles, and put on her two dark-leather gloves that left all her fingers free.
Then she left the barracks in a single-file line with the other girls. Over her shoulder she felt the glare of one of the girls, the girl she’d beaten the day before, Fewn was her name, and Lilaci could tell Fewn had grown jealous of her over the last few months. Lilaci knew she needed to be wary of her.
They arrived quickly at their practice area, and Lilaci saw not only Elan, her instructor, standing by one of the racks of weapons, but the commander himself stood next to her. She instantly recognized him with the crossing scars on his nose and his dark gray eyes. His stern face with thin wrinkles was divided by the distinct widow’s peak that cut almost below his eye line. His presence was noticed by all, with his strong shoulders, tall stature, and long black hair that fell far down his back, lying on his dark-tan tunic. He rarely comes to these sparring sessions, this must be an important one. I must make sure to impress him if I’m called into the circle today. I wouldn’t let Elan down in that.
All of the girls, once they stood in front of their elders single-file, bowed in unison at Elan, and then separately to Commander Veranor.
“Welcome, Lu-Polini—” Elan said, her outfit appeared more formal to Lilaci that day, as it was tighter, and each wrinkle seemed intentional in her outfit, probably because the commander was supervising that day. “Today’s training is going to consist of two parts. First, stealth and dismay, and secondly, a sparring.”
This surprised Lilaci, they almost-never sparred two days in a row, no more than two times in the years Lilaci had been there. It took a physical toll on the girls, particularly the loser. In all of their styles of training, the sparring may have been her favorite. Practicing with a weapon in her hands made her feel powerful, like she had some sense of control of her own life, a sense of freedom. The other styles, however, were not as enjoyable. They taught her in the art of warfare, which was more strategic and historical based, but stealth and dismay was her least favorite. Stealth and dismay was just their name for killing, and the art of the assassin. They taught her many ways to kill, each more grotesque than the last. She never pictured herself enjoying another’s death, but she still held a part of her deep down that wished for revenge, and that style of training— she knew— would undoubtedly prove itself useful.
While in front of the commander, and while he walked intently in large circles around the girls, they moved in a near-perfect dance of poses, each flowing into the next. They performed the canary pose and dipped down into the brush pose. Then they shot quickly into the dragon pose, a harsh and firm pose, with both feet dug into the sand, and their arms out with each muscle tensed, ready to lash out. Then they went back into the flowing river pose, a stance that left them rustling from side to side, a good position if hiding in the bush.
And so this went on, Elan never called out for poses, the purpose of stealth and dismay was to not make a single sound. At one point, one of the girl's feet moved ever-so-slightly to far out, and made a quiet whooshing sound. Elan stopped her with a movement of her hand, and the girl walked up directly in front of her, and continued the poses. Lilaci watched as Elan made no hesitation to whack the girls’ arms and legs with a thin, stinging stick each time she thought her movements weren’t perfect. If the girls were ever to cry out, they were ushered over to the Keln, or the box, a small enclosure that, when locked in, gave no free movement and was what they all feared most.
The remainder of that session went on, and Lilaci felt as if the commander was paying more attention to her movements than the rest. She had little trouble with the poses, as it was like being in the peace of meditation for her. Her mind would sooth and slow as she flowed through the positions, and the world became peaceful, and she forgot she was a prisoner.
Then, they were brought over to a small table, and some kettles of hot water were brought over with clay mugs and a selection of tea leaves. She always enjoyed the mint tea with a splash of fresh milk the most. The poses had taken close to two hours to perform, and they still had a sparring session left.
Lilaci began readying her mind for sparring, as it took a different mindset than that required of stealth and dismay.
In the sparring circle, an open area with a thick-red rope encircling the fighter’s pit, Elan selected the girls two by two to spar. Each time it was brutal, even though it was only sparring, it was so encouraged that each girl win, that they would often forget it was only for practice and go into a blinding rage.
The fight with the first two girls left both able to walk out of the ring, the second left a girl on the ground with the wind knocked from her lungs and gripping at her side. The other girl had pummeled her in the chest and side with her staff before the fight was stopped. Lilaci looked at Veranor who seemed to be pleased. Elan had a pleasant look on her face when she noticed the same expression on the commander.
Two by two the girls went up and fought, and each time a winner was bowed to by the loser, and Lilaci assumed she’d be in the last fight again, as she was the Oncur still. Then there were four girls left, including her.
“Lilaci,” Elan said, surprising her.
“Zerashan,” Elan said next. Lilaci was ready to fight Zerashan, she was familiar with her style, and had beaten her many times.
“Bellaton,” Elan said. Lilaci’s eyes opened wide, and she had to fight to keep her jaw shut. “You two will spar against Lilaci, if either of you wins, the one who strikes the final blow will be Oncur.”
Lilaci looked at Elan, who was expressionless, but then caught a look at Fewn, and a wide grin on her face, and her eyes were wet with pleasure. She looked over at the commander who gave her a rare, slight nod of his head. Lilaci knew it’d be not only hard to beat both girls, but she assumed the same rules applied, and she’d have to beat them two rounds, opposed to their one.
They walked over and stood next to each other, across from Lilaci, on her own. Elan clapped her hands, and the battle started. The two girls separated quickly and went on either side of Lilaci, surrounding her, each holding their staffs ready to strike. Lilaci struck first though, with a swift blow towards Bellaton’s thigh, who blocked it with a clack. Bellaton shifted her feet back, as she was quickly stuck on the defensive as Lilaci shot forward, with each blow landing harder and more precise.
While Lilaci laid heavily her offensive, Zerashan went at Lilaci’s back. Zerashan thrust forward with her staff, towards the small of Lilaci’s back. It should’ve been an easy attack, but like a snake evading a mongoose, Lilaci slipped to the side, rolling darting around to Zerashan’s side.
Lilaci let her staff fly towards Zerashan’s calf, who blocked it haphazardly with a thud. Lilaci would have easily finished her then, as Zerashan’s staff was blown back and away wide, but a furious attack by Bellaton brought her back up to her feet and into a quick flurry of staff strikes, each blocked methodically, yet like a dance. Zerashan soon re-gathered her wits and went at Lilaci, joining the other girl.
The two girls, together, attacked Lilaci with a wicked flurry of blows, each deflected, but the two girls together were strong, and Lilaci found herself vulnerable. She fought with all of the strength and speed she could muster, and she found that instinct had kicked in— she seemed to be moving quicker than she could even think. Lilaci went into a dark place then, thoughts of that woman holding her children for the last time entered her mind. Then she saw the figure of a man enter the tent, a man of light skin and dark widow’s peak, the man held a blood-covered scimitar in one hand, and held a wicked smile upon his face. Then, before her, Lilaci saw the two girls faces with similar smiles, and Lilaci felt a fire brim up from her stomach and burn wildly in her chest.
Normally, she wouldn’t give into wild fury, but with the two girls and their unrelenting barrage of blows, she became a blind force of rage. Lilaci let out a loud, raspy battle cry that wiped the smiles from the two girl’s faces. Lilaci lashed out with a wild array of swipes and thrusts that drove the two girls on the defensive. She focused on Zerashan and let her eyes drift to her thigh, and while letting her staff swing down towards it, she let the momentum carry the staff down, and while briefly letting go of the staff completely, she switched her hand positions, she brought the other end up and sent it up, rocking Zerashan on the side of her arm. Zerashan, her face left in an expression of bewilderment, stepped back and away with her staff lowered.