by Sharon Hinck
At some point in the night, I woke up screaming, covered in cold sweat. I had been drowning in blood, with horrible multi-toned laughter echoing off the walls. Tara knelt near my pallet. She hugged me the way I hug Anne when she falls off the swings. She rocked me, murmuring soothing words. “You did what you had to do. Shh. It’ll be all right.” I finally fell back asleep.
My mouth tasted sour when I woke up, and emptiness gnawed my stomach. I pulled on several layers of warm clothes and hurried out to the common room for some hot clavo. I sank into a chair with a sigh, but jumped when Tristan stomped into the room and dropped an armful of supplies onto the table.
“Just what did you think you were doing?” he growled.
His irritation rolled right off of me. The tone was too familiar. It was the same one I used when Jon chased his soccer ball into the street and forgot to check for traffic.
“I’m fine, Tristan.” I said, guessing it wouldn’t help. I was right.
“Why didn’t you call for help? What made you think you could take on a Rhusican? And do you realize what would have happened if Kyle hadn’t seen him attack you? You’d be tried for murder!” He was working up a head of steam.
I let him get it out of his system while I sipped my tea. When he stopped for a breath, I answered quietly. “Look, there wasn’t time. I didn’t plan it. I was just there. It happened.”
He ran his hands through his hair and flopped down at the table. “And you didn’t clean your sword. You just left it there.”
I looked around for my pack and sword. They were propped against the wall in the usual place, and I was relieved to see someone had cleaned the sword for me.
Tristan scolded a while longer, but his heart wasn’t in it. He got himself some tea and patted my shoulder as he walked past me. “Next time, keep your eyes open.” Though he turned his head away, I caught a glimpse of his grudging grin.
Cradling a warm mug of clavo and resting my feet on a nearby chair, I basked in the relief of being alive. Linette and Wade, two people I cared about, were safe, and I had a part in that. Not a bad day’s work for a suburban housewife from Ridgeview Drive.
After breakfast, Tristan walked with me to meet Wade. As we followed the well-worn path through the village, he filled me in on a few things. No one knew who the Rhusican was or where he had come from. No one had noticed him before I came across him talking to Wade and Linette. Most of the clan was busy out near the fields, preparing for harvest, but Kyle had broken his test-gauge—a tool for checking the moisture level of the grain—and so had come back early. Bekkah had popped into the village to restock supplies for the outpost.
“We have a new problem.” Tristan watched me, as if unsure I was ready to hear more. “The Council sent a messenger yesterday to request that you report to Lyric. I thought we’d have more time. We’re going to start harvest in a few days, and I hoped they’d let you stay until after the Feast. The healer might be willing to say you are still contagious, but we may have to move you.”
My stomach tightened and the post-trauma euphoria evaporated. I needed to find a way home, and the people in Braide Wood were the only allies I had. I didn’t want to go to anywhere near Lyric, Cameron, or the Council.
•••
The next day, Tristan gave Wade a day off and decided to work with me himself. I think he felt honor bound to break me of my combat technique of closing my eyes in panic. This was why I flopped at sports in school. Whenever a ball headed in my direction—baseball, kickball, or basketball—it seemed a logical impulse to close my eyes and duck. It wasn’t a great approach to sports and, apparently, was also frowned upon in swordplay.
We were warming up with long staffs in a forest clearing some distance out of the village when I heard someone approaching through the woods. I stepped back and held up my hand.
Tristan froze, alert. A moment later, a thin figure in a mottled sweater sauntered into the clearing, a pack hanging from one shoulder.
“Kieran! I didn’t know you were back.” Tristan’s smile lit his face with warmth.
I gripped my staff with both hands, feeling wary.
“Just got in. Don’t let me interrupt.” He ignored me and settled down on a log. He was even leaner than when I had seen him in Shamgar. Tristan watched him with one eyebrow raised. When neither of us moved, Kieran tilted his head toward Tristan. “Go on.” He rummaged in his bag, feigning disinterest. Tristan shook his head, but turned back to me and picked up the lesson.
At first it was a struggle to focus, but once we were back into sparring, I tuned out the audience. I blocked several swings, anticipating Tristan’s sweeping attacks. But as I countered one overhead blow, struggling to push his staff away, he swung around and under, knocking my feet out from under me. My back hit the packed earth with a whomp that rattled my teeth. I looked up at the pine branches framing the sallow sky and stayed down, waiting to catch my breath.
Tristan walked over and offered his hand, hauling me back to my feet. I glanced over at Kieran. Bony elbows rested on jutting knees. His chin balanced on his fists. His gaze shifted from Tristan to me and back again. Then his eyes narrowed.
Tristan tossed me a gourd full of tart orberry juice. “Take a break. Kieran and I have a few things to discuss.” The two men headed deeper into the forest to talk, disappearing from sight.
“You’re babying her,” Kieran said when they halted some distance away.
“You came all the way back to Braide Wood to tell me how to train first-years?”
Even Tristan didn’t realize how keen my hearing was becoming. I felt no compunction about eavesdropping. Not after I’d heard Kieran offer to get rid of me back in Shamgar.
“You’re not doing her any favors,” Kieran continued. I heard a twig being snapped and shredded—probably Tristan. He didn’t like being nagged. “She spars like she’s dancing. When she’s down, she waits. She trusts you not to press an advantage. When she attacks, she holds back. She’s just going through the motions. You’re wasting your time.”
“Fine,” Tristan’s deep voice answered. “You work with her.”
“You know that isn’t possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible. You just can’t be bothered.” Tristan’s voice rose with real anger. “You don’t want anything to interfere with your schemes. It’s all about protecting yourself, never mind what happens to anyone else. Why did you even come back?”
I held my breath. Why was Tristan deliberately baiting his friend? For all his slouching nonchalance, Kieran was dangerous. Even I could see that.
When he finally answered, Kieran sounded faintly amused instead of angry. “Fine. I’ll make a trade. I’ll work with her the few days I’m here, out at the caves. I don’t want anyone knowing I’m around.” Tristan started to say something, but Kieran cut him off.
“In exchange, I want your promise.” Kieran’s voice dropped, and I closed my eyes, straining to hear. “If, after I work with her, I decide it’s a waste of time, then you forget all these myths and come with me to Hazor.”
I heard Tristan’s angry exclamation and struggled to hear more, but my head throbbed with the effort, and I couldn’t keep the voices focused anymore. Whatever Kieran was up to, he was dealing with enemies. From everything Tristan had told me about Hazor, Kieran’s involvement with them meant treason at worst, or forbidden alliances at best.
Their voices grew audible again, along with approaching footsteps.
“Come on,” Kieran wheedled. “You’ve been trying for years to prove to me that the Verses are true. Now’s your chance to convince me.”
Terrific. Tristan would take that as a challenge he couldn’t refuse. My wariness of Kieran deepened into anger. He was a master manipulator.
The men entered the clearing. “Let me talk to Skyler,” Tristan was asking.
“No.” Kieran’s jaw tightened, and grabbing his pack he
walked over to me. “I’m not here.” His glare was hard with warning. “You haven’t seen me.”
“I wish,” I muttered under my breath.
When Kieran continued to stare me down, I ducked my head and busied myself retying my boots.
“Don’t worry. She won’t say anything.” I looked up to see Tristan rest a hand on Kieran’s back.
Kieran turned to his friend, and his expression softened. “Is Kendra any better?”
“They don’t think she’ll last much longer.” Tristan’s voice was thick. “You should go see her.”
“I can’t. Not now.”
So Kieran wouldn’t even visit his father or his dying sister. His secret agendas were all that mattered to him. How could Tristan trust him so much?
“I’ll bring you some supplies.” Tristan offered his hand.
They clasped forearms, and Kieran met Tristan’s eyes. “Watch your back.” He shouldered his bag and disappeared among the trees.
Tristan pulled out the blunt practice swords. “Let’s get to work.”
With a groan, I pushed myself back onto my feet.
At supper that night, Tristan waited until Dustin was showing off his woodcarvings to the family to pull me aside.
“I took supplies out to Kieran this afternoon. He’s agreed to help with your sword training. It’ll be a good chance to work with someone else. When Bekkah finishes her patrol at Morsal Plains, she’ll take you on as her student. But the more experience you can get, the better.”
He was talking too much. The longer he tried to convince me that this was a good idea, the more my stomach muscles tightened. Besides, I was getting tired of all the effort to become some sort of guardian, when what I really needed to do was find a way home.
“I’ll show you where the caves are tomorrow, first light.” He was still talking. “And remember to keep your guard
high enough to protect your head when you parry a lateral swing.”
“Enough!” I covered my ears and groaned.
A good night’s sleep left me with more optimism. I trudged into the rock-studded clearing that Tristan had pointed me toward. He was right; it would be good practice for me to spar with someone else. And Kieran wasn’t even a guardian. He had a much slighter frame than Tristan or Wade, so I wouldn’t have to compensate as much for my smaller size. How bad could it be?
I didn’t spot him at first. He was sitting tailor-style on a boulder, his back to me. Ragged traveling clothes bound up with crisscrossed straps of fabric matched the mottled greys and greens of his surroundings. He was whittling a piece of wood.
“Let’s get on with it,” he said without turning.
His hearing must be as good as mine, I thought uneasily. He sprang off the boulder and faced me.
I untied my cloak and shrugged out of my long, narrow daypack. “Fine, I’ll warm up.” I did a few stretches and pulled a band of fabric from my pack to tie my hair back in a tight ponytail.
Kieran rolled his eyes. He walked over to the cave entrance and disappeared inside.
I swung my arm around a few times to loosen my shoulder. I was crouched on the ground digging the practice swords from the pack when Kieran emerged from the cave. He held a sword in his right hand, while his left grasped the scabbard. He pulled the sword out in a smooth, practiced motion, tossing the scabbard aside.
My mouth went dry. “Um, Tristan didn’t tell me you had guardian training.”
He shrugged. “Oh, I picked up a few things here and there. We won’t need those.” He tilted his head toward the wooden training weapons. “Draw your sword.”
Tristan and I never sparred with live blades. I carried my real sword everywhere, but it was a security blanket to me, not a weapon. Yes, I’d used it against the Rhusican, but that was purely by accident.
I opened my mouth to inform him that I wasn’t that far along in my training. But Kieran’s eyes were challenging me, and I thought of the deal he had suggested to Tristan. I hoped Tristan hadn’t taken the dare, but even so, I wanted to make my teacher proud.
“Fine.” My fingers felt cold and clumsy as I fumbled to untie the straps that held my sword to the side of the pack. Suddenly I felt something harshly cold against my neck. I turned my head in slow motion and looked up the length of a very sharp blade.
“Lovely.” Kieran’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I’m sure any enemy would have too much honor to attack you until you’re ready. That must be why you’re completely unprotected and paying no attention whatsoever.” He glared at me for a long punishing moment. Then he eased the sword back an inch. “Lesson one. Stay on guard.” Reaching past me, he flicked the tip of his sword and easily sliced the ties on my pack.
I scrambled to pull my sword free and backed away into the center of the clearing.
We faced off, and Kieran wasted no time. He attacked, and I barely blocked in time, stumbling back a few steps as I did. Instead of explaining and demonstrating strikes and parries, Kieran immediately pressed his advantage.
My heart lurched into a faster rhythm as I reacted out of instinct, throwing my sword up and retreating again. Within seconds, Kieran’s sword slipped through my feeble defense and sliced across my right shoulder. I grabbed at the wound with my free hand, my sword hanging down, my eyes wide with shock.
“Don’t drop your guard!” He struck again.
I dodged to the side, but still felt his sword scrape across my ribs. I swung my blade up, keeping my weight low and my knees bent. My mind raced. I tried to remember what Tristan and Wade had taught me. Tristan was a technician. He treated sword work as an art form. Kieran apparently belonged to the school of “whatever works.” We circled each other.
“Come at me.” Kieran beckoned with his free hand.
My cuts stung, even as they healed. I clenched my jaw and took a wild swing.
He deflected it easily. “You can do better than that.” Kieran was taunting me now. “Aim for me, not for my sword.”
In ten minutes, sweat was stinging my eyes. My arm trembled, and I switched to a two-handed hold on the sword’s grip. It felt heavier with each minute that passed. My clothes were stained with blood from a dozen small cuts. My breath came in gasps, as if I had run a mile uphill.
Kieran’s face was expressionless, and he gave me no time to recover. He wasn’t teaching me. He was brutalizing me. As he moved forward to swing again, I stepped back and lowered my sword.
“Wait,” I panted. “I can’t . . .”
Kieran lowered his sword and stepped closer. “You mean you surrender?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes. I surrender, all right?”
“Sorry, that’s not an option,” Kieran replied in clipped syllables. The hilt of his sword slammed against the side of my head from out of nowhere. The ground sprang up to crash against my face and sparkles of grey dissolved into black.
A picture faded into place around me like a hologram. A woman sat under a bare light bulb, in a dusty attic, writing in a journal. I floated closer and could see words, but the letters drifted off the pages and swirled around the rafters of the room before I could read them. The woman looked so tired and sad. I wanted to help her. I reached out and tried to say something to her, but there was dirt in my mouth.
I spat it out, but still felt as if I were choking. I opened my eyes. Why was there a pinecone so close to my nose? The attic had transformed back into hard dirt, and I was sprawled on the ground. Pain throbbed in my skull as if someone were tapping a rock against my temple over and over. I moaned and curled in around myself. The ache began to ease as my head healed, and I pushed myself up to sit, still confused.
“Find your weapon first,” said a quiet voice behind me.
I looked around quickly, causing sparks to dance in front of my eyes again. Kieran sat on a tree stump, chin in his hand, looking bored. “Your first priority is to find your sword. Then c
heck your surroundings. And watch your back.” He spoke like a college professor lecturing on themes in English literature.
I glared at him, but reached for my sword. “What kind of training is this? I thought you were supposed to help me.” I spat out dirt in between the words and rubbed grit off the side of my face. As I stumbled to my feet, using the sword for support, I kept my eyes on Kieran.
He rose to his feet as well, and his face showed no remorse. “When you go into battle, there’s no time to rest. No surrender. Kill or be killed. Nothing else matters. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” I snarled.
“Do you?” He moved closer. In the second it took me to consider stepping back, he grabbed my arm, twisted my sword free and tossed it away. He gripped my upper arms and pulled me close. His face was inches from mine. “Do you really understand? This is no polite competition. If you let your guard down, you will die. And so will others.”
I glared back up at him, angry at the pummeling he had given me, and equally angry at the mindset he was trying to force on me. I thrust my arms up to break his hold and managed a snap kick that drove him back. Some of Wade’s training had stuck with me. I dove for my sword and came up with it in front of me, crouching to face Kieran.
He reached behind the stump and pulled out his own sword. His grin was feral. He was enjoying this.
In that moment, I hated him. I wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt me. No, worse. I wanted to run him through. The rage was an uncontrollable creature inhabiting my body like a hissing poisonous lizard. Feeling red-hot evil charge through me pulled me up short. I kept my sword up but stepped back out of my crouch. “I can’t do this. Don’t make me do this. I don’t want this hate.”
“It’s the price you pay to stay alive.” Kieran advanced slowly, his eyes fixed on mine.