Lightning Tracks

by A. A. Kinsela

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you refusing to obey a direct command?’

  ‘No. Well, yeah. But—’

  ‘Sir!’

  Kráytos turned towards them.

  ‘Whoa! Okay. I’m going now.’ Nick took off after the runners and fell into pace beside Cal.

  ‘Do they make you do this every day?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Cal replied.

  ‘How long do we have to run?’

  ‘An hour.’

  Nick almost tripped over his own feet. ‘An hour? Are they trying to kill us?’

  Cal smiled wryly. ‘Only if you’re not used to it.’

  ‘I can safely say I’m not.’

  ‘Then this’ll be good practice for the mountain run.’

  Nick snorted. ‘As if. They wouldn’t make us run up a mountain.’

  ‘They will if you’re insubordinate. I suggest you don’t challenge Pan again. She might let you off every now and then, but Kráytos definitely won’t.’

  Nick glanced at Kráytos, who was busy yelling at a pair of quivering recruits. ‘Right. I’ll keep that in mind.’

  When their hour-long run was up, Nick slumped against the training field wall and wiped his brow. Most of the recruits were drenched in sweat, and some of the boys had stripped to the waist, their dark skin glistening in the harsh midday sun. Nick knew enough now to realise it was far too dangerous to take off his own singlet, so he dunked his head in the water catchment and tossed his hair back, spraying the people behind him.

  ‘Hey! Watch it!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Nick muttered, moving away from the group to stand in the shade of a wattle. ‘What’s next?’ he asked as Cal came to join him.

  ‘Depends on your post. You’ll probably be doing sword fighting with me, since we’re both in the beginners group.’

  ‘Whatever. You might fool them, but I’ve seen what you can do. You’re no beginner.’

  Cal went still, his amber gaze fixed on Nick like a warning.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone,’ Nick said.

  He walked to the sword training area, chose a wooden sword from the pile, and twirled it a couple of times until he miscalculated the angle and whacked himself in the shoulder.

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘You’ve never even used a sword before?’ Cal asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

  Nick tapped the blunted edge on his thigh, feeling embarrassed. ‘Where I’m from...’ he began, then remembered that this was one of the things he shouldn’t mention. ‘I’ve just never needed to.’

  With an incredulous shake of his head, Cal said, ‘Right. I suppose we’d better start with the basics. Hold the hilt as if you’re shaking someone’s hand.’

  Nick shook hands with the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Okay, now follow my lead.’ Cal smirked. ‘And try not to hurt yourself.’

  At first, Nick wondered if Cal was going to downplay his skills for the sake of appearances, but he moved so slowly and gracefully that it didn’t matter. Nick’s strikes, parries and lunges were lumbering and uncontrolled in comparison, and Cal often had to correct his posture or grip.

  ‘How did I go?’ Nick asked as they returned their swords to the pile.

  Cal regarded him for a moment then replied, ‘Keep practising.’

  ‘Right. Thanks.’

  Lightning licked the clouds overhead and thunder boomed. A moment later, fat raindrops splattered their heads.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Cal said. ‘My shift’s starting soon.’

  ‘Where are you stationed today?’

  ‘The aqueducts.’

  Nick recalled the tall stone bridge connecting the city to the mountains.

  ‘See you tomorrow?’ Cal asked.

  Nick nodded, then watched Cal jog off the field and vanish into the streets.

  ‘I wonder what you’re hiding, Cal,’ Nick murmured to himself.

  Chapter 21: Roan’s tracker

  The rain stopped just as Cal’s shift ended. He trudged to the armoury under the aqueducts to hand in his weapons then headed home. As he walked, he shrugged off his jacket and wrung it out. Water splattered the muddy street. The city was silent at this hour, but Cal always got the feeling that it slept with one eye half open and fixed on the mountains to the east.

  He passed the abandoned governor’s house and glanced up out of habit. For a moment, he considered jumping the wall and drying off in front of the old hearth, but he knew not to go in there after dark. It wasn’t the ghost stories that kept him out. The light from a fire might attract attention, and he didn’t want anyone seeing what he and Artemis had set up on the other side of those high stone walls.

  A soft creaking sound drifted up a side alley. Cal peered around the corner and saw an iron gate standing ajar. He froze. Artemis had tried picking the lock on that gate a dozen times but it was rusted through. If a Bandála patrol discovered what was inside the house, they’d know they were dealing with undeclared deserters. Cal and Artemis would be lined up with everyone else and searched for Arai brands. Then it would only be a matter of time before their participation in the solstice massacre became known and their heads would be raised on stakes.

  Cal went to shut the gate, but as he got closer he saw that the lock had been smashed off. Before he could turn and run, something sharp prodded his ribs and a hand gripped the nape of his neck.

  ‘Move,’ a voice muttered in his ear.

  The knife pressed into him, forcing him through the gate and across the overgrown garden. In the large atrium, moonshine outlined two more figures, and a set of footsteps heralded a fourth person.

  Julian stepped through a doorway and gestured to the house. ‘An impressive setup you have here, Cal. Training ropes, a sparring room, weapons, even a small forge. Anyone would think you’re preparing for something.’

  Cal stayed silent.

  ‘I noticed you’ve taken Nick under your wing,’ Julian said, his tone becoming icy. ‘That stops right now.’

  ‘You can’t order me to...’

  Julian drew his sword and rested the blade on Cal’s shoulder, tilting it so that Cal could see the sundisc engraved near the hilt.

  ‘This order doesn’t come from the Bandála.’

  Cal felt sick to his stomach. Julian and the other three Bandála soldiers were either Arai or working for them. How many more had infiltrated Auremos?

  In a quiet voice, Cal said, ‘I’m not an Arai anymore.’

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. ‘A fully-equipped training ground with weapons and a forge. I have all the proof I need to arrest you and Artemis as spies.’

  ‘Then what’s stopping you?’

  Julian smirked and sheathed his sword. ‘For a start, I don’t believe you want to join the Bandála. Your heart isn’t in it. Not like Artemis’s. And that makes me wonder. Are you really a true Arai deserter, breaking your oath in favour of some savage rebel cause?’

  ‘I haven’t broken my oath.’

  Julian’s tone turned as sharp as his blade. ‘You think that Yándi bastard Nick is worthy of your loyalty?’

  Cal didn’t reply. Despite his silence, a stillness came over the four Arai as if they’d guessed his answer. Cal expected to feel the sting of a dagger at any moment. Instead, a sharp blow brought him to his knees.

  ‘It seems this mileskúlos needs to be reminded of the consequences for disobedience,’ Julian said. The other three Arai chuckled softly.

  Rubbing at the spot on his spine where he’d been struck, Cal willed himself to stay calm and think. Four armed Arai stood over him. He had to come up with a plan. Fast.

  ‘When you deserted, you went to the Highlands in an attempt to protect your family,’ Julian said.

  A chill settled over Cal. How did Julian know that?

  ‘You failed because you were betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. Roan.’

  The words seared Cal to his core.

  ‘Your captain slaughtered your father and sister. Doesn’t that m
ake you angry?’

  Cal bared his teeth. ‘I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.’

  ‘Roan betrayed you because he wanted you to desert. He wanted you to come to Auremos and turn yourself in. He wanted Valerius and Xanthe to hear what you had to say.’ Julian smiled. ‘And you played your part beautifully.’

  ‘No. It’s not true. You’re lying!’

  ‘Do you know what Roan wants most of all?’

  ‘Shut up!’

  ‘He wants Nick to succeed.’

  ‘He does not! He wants Nick dead, just like the rest of you!’

  Julian’s blue eyes glinted in the darkness like cut glass. ‘Then why did he let you go?’

  Cal stared, and started to say, ‘How do you know...?’ But then he gritted his teeth and looked away. ‘I won’t listen to this. You’re trying to mess with my head.’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth, Cal.’

  ‘You’re twisting the facts to make is sound like the truth. I know how this works, Commander. I’ve done it before.’

  ‘I’m sure you have. Roan would’ve trained you well.’

  Cal raked his fingers through his hair. The repetition of someone’s name was a technique used to elicit an emotional reaction, and he’d always been surprised by how effective it was. He’d never imagined it would be used against him.

  ‘Let me tell you something else about your captain.’

  ‘He is not my captain.’

  Julian continued with his smile still in place. ‘Roan started out life as a member of the Bandála.’

  With a snort, Cal said, ‘Come on. Do you really expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s true. Roan may be an Arai captain, but he answers to the Bandála. Why do you think Valerius and Xanthe were so quick to accept you into the Bandála ranks? They trust you because they trust the person who sent you.’

  ‘Roan did not send me!’ Cal roared, surging to his feet. Three swords were instantly levelled at him.

  ‘Yes, he did!’ Julian spat. ‘Roan taught you a hundred ways to kill a person. He knew that you – you – more than any other recruit, would have the best chance of escape. That’s why he nominated you to lead the king’s men into the Highlands. He used you.’

  Cal clenched his jaw, shook his head, as if this would dislodge the ringing truth in Julian’s words.

  ‘Roan understands your nature better than anyone else, Cal, because he made you what you are. That’s how he manipulated you so easily.’ Julian leaned in and added, ‘And I bet you’d love nothing more than to use your skills against him.’

  Cal wished he could somehow shut the commander up. What he said was true. Since the night his family had been murdered, Cal had imagined countless violent, satisfying deaths for Roan. He wanted that. He craved it more than anything else.

  ‘You can have it, Cal. You can have your revenge.’

  Cal hated how effortlessly Julian had read him. As he took in Julian’s ardent gaze, Cal saw that he believed what he was saying. For a moment, Cal believed it too, that he could get revenge, and his heart blazed. But before that spark of possibility could embed itself too deeply, he recalled his first encounter with Julian, the knife trailing across his skin, Julian’s inexplicable knowledge of Cal’s origins, the threat of being unmasked, and he reminded himself that these enticing words were nothing more than moves in a dangerous game of strategy.

  A game that, thank the gods, Cal knew how to play.

  He leaned forward, ignoring the Arai swords tilted at his throat. ‘How? How can I get revenge?’

  Julian’s smile contained a shade of triumph. ‘Undermine everything Roan has worked for. He wants Nick to live. He wants him to succeed. If your captain was here, he’d be doing exactly what you’re doing—preparing Nick for what is coming.’

  ‘What should I do?’

  ‘Unravel his plans.’ Julian tapped Cal’s chest, right where his shirt hid his Arai tattoo. ‘Reveal Nick’s brand to the Bandála.’

  Cal swallowed. He’d anticipated something like this, and he already knew what his answer would be. He had to agree. Anything else would get him killed.

  ‘Okay. I’ll do it.’

  Resting a hand on his shoulder, Julian said, ‘Welcome back to the Arai, Cal.’

  Like shadows retreating into darkness, the four men disappeared. Cal stood motionless for several minutes, listening. When he was certain he was alone, he barred the iron gate from the inside then scaled the wall and dropped into the lane.

  If Julian wanted Cal to stop training Nick, if he wanted Nick’s tattoo exposed and his safety compromised, then Cal would do the exact opposite.

  He’d sworn an oath, and this time, he would not break it.

  Chapter 22: Maléya

  The next day, just as Nick was about to leave for morning drills, David stopped him at the front door and said, ‘You’ll train with me today. You need to learn how to shield.’

  He held out a rough leather scabbard. Nick drew the sword and studied the blunt blade and grimy hilt. A large part of him wanted to refuse to go, just to spite David, but on the other hand, he was curious to learn more about this strange maléya. The temptation was too great to resist, so he followed David downstairs.

  As soon as they’d stepped into Market Square, people stopped what they were doing to stare at David or salute. Some of them waved and called out ‘Nallindéra’. Nick scowled, trying to figure out how David had managed to convince so many people to love him.

  They went to a large sandstone house around the back of their apartment block. The soot-stained walls and broken window shutters made it appear abandoned, but once Nick passed through the unlit entrance hall, he found a large enclosed courtyard with hard packed ground. Despite the daisies growing from cracks in the paving stones and thin stringybarks nudging the walls, this area was well-used.

  ‘Put the sword aside,’ David said. ‘I’d like to see what you know first.’

  He removed his jacket and flexed his arms. He had the intimidating physique of a halfback player. Nick ran through all the Yándi combat moves he’d practiced yesterday and began planning ways of countering them. He lowered his centre of gravity, raised his guard, waited for David to prepare as well. But he didn’t. He just studied Nick’s stance with interest.

  ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ David asked.

  Nick aimed a jab at his chin. He tried a few more Bandála combinations but didn’t even get close to making contact. He decided to try some moves of his own and swung into a roundhouse kick. David caught his foot then swept his other leg out from under him. Nick crashed onto the dirt, grunting as the wind was punched out of his lungs.

  ‘You can do better than that,’ David said.

  The amusement in his voice spurred Nick on. He sprang up and attacked without hesitation, trying every move he knew, but nothing got past David’s guard. Three more times David slammed him to the ground, leaving him sucking air, blinking stars from his vision, and raging even more than before.

  ‘You’re better than I expected,’ David said, holding a hand up to stop Nick’s attack. ‘But from now on, try to pace yourself. If I was an Arai, you’d already be dead.’

  Nick wiped the sweat from his face. ‘You told me to fight harder.’

  ‘Yes. I did.’

  ‘So what are you saying? If I want to win I shouldn’t fight?’

  ‘I’m saying you shouldn’t have listened to me. The Arai focus a great deal of their training on defence and provocation. They’ll try anything to stir you into a rage and then ward off your attack until you get tired. That’s when they go in for the kill.’

  Nick pushed his dreadlocks off his forehead. They flopped right back into place. ‘Okay. Don’t fight first. Got it.’

  David unsheathed his sword, but before Nick had time to get his, David said, ‘You won’t need yours yet.’

  Nick eyed David’s sword and asked, ‘The blade’s blunt, right?’

  David ran his palm along his own weapon
but his brown skin remained unbroken. ‘Wouldn’t slice through boiled roots.’

  ‘Why aren’t you using a curved sabre like the ones the Bandála soldiers carry?’

  ‘These are Arai weapons. They’re the ones you have to learn to avoid.’ David patted his chest. ‘Most of the time our maléya can protect us. The vast majority of Arai don’t have that advantage. When they’re in a fight, their weapons are all the defence they have. You have your shields, but you should only shield if it’s absolutely necessary. Shielding tires you out, and it’s hard to swing a sword when you don’t have much strength left. In fact,’ he added, almost to himself, ‘we should probably start with staffs, since your maléya is already awakened.’

  He scooped up a wooden staff, spun it in his hands, around his back, over his head, then speared it into the ground. Nick stared, open-mouthed.

  ‘There are two parts to maléya training,’ David said. ‘Awakening and honing. Awakening is very painful.’

  Nick edged away.

  ‘You’ve used your shields already,’ David continued, ‘which means your maléya is already awakened.’

  ‘Oh. That’s good.’

  David held up his staff. ‘The next bit is honing. Let’s see how long you last. Concentrate on keeping your shields raised rather than blocking each blow. If you do that, you shouldn’t get hurt.’

  Nick watched the staff spin faster and faster, blurring into a brown wheel. His fingers tingled, senses sharpened. A dull numbness spread across his skin like a chill. Everything around him became hazy till only David was sharply defined.

  Without warning, the staff changed course and cracked against Nick’s shoulder. A bright flash lit up the courtyard. The force of the blow threw him off balance and he staggered back. He didn’t feel any pain but prodded the spot where the staff had connected, just to be sure nothing was broken. He couldn’t feel the touch of his fingers on his skin. At first, he thought all his nerve endings had stopped working. Then he realised there was something between his fingers and his arm, an invisible, protective barrier that continued over his shoulder, down his chest, and across his entire body.