Death Flag

  “Not too bad? That’s crazy,” she said in awe. “Wait, does that mean you really were in there for two days the first time?”

  “Ah, you heard about that too? People around here really do love to talk, don’t they?”

  “Certain people like to gossip,” she answered carefully.

  A noise out in the hallway caught Madison’s attention, and he peeked out through the open door to check what it was. He couldn’t make out who it was in the dim lighting, but there was definitely someone out there moving around. It was probably just someone starting to make the morning rounds, but he didn’t really care to stick around and find out. “If you want to get out of here before someone finds us, we need to get a move on,” he urged, his voice steady but urgent. “I really don’t want to have to explain to someone why I keep swiping gauze.”

  She looked down at his wrapped arm and then back up at him and nodded once without saying a word. She stepped forward, and she was suddenly a different person. She crouched down slightly, balancing the weight on the balls of her feet, and silently crept past him. She peered out the door and then sprang out into the hallway without making so much as a sound. Madison listened intently for a moment, and when he was certain no one heard her, he slipped out into the hallway, carefully shut the door behind him so that it wouldn’t be noticed, and then hurriedly walked down the hall. He kept his stride even and steady, neither walking nor running. If he was spotted, he wanted to look like he was just going about his business without any reason to raise suspicions. He kept his eyes locked on Shayna the entire time, and he had to admit he was somewhat impressed. They both made it down the long stone hallway without anyone noticing, and he never heard so much as a footstep from her.

  When they were finally outside and onto the grassy quad, he commented on it. “That’s a neat trick,” he said admiringly. “Being able to creep around silently, that is.”

  “Mmm. It’s just a trick I learned,” she said dismissively. “It’s not even a very high-level one at that. Pretty much anyone who trains as a rogue can learn to move quietly. It’s sort of the bread and butter of what we do.”

  “Ah . . . right. The towers.” As strange as it was to forget four monolithic buildings that towered over everything around him, they had actually slipped his mind since he hadn’t even made it to one yet. He had been so caught up with running between one thing or another that he hadn’t been able to find the time. “I guess I’m going to be spending a fair bit of time in one of those soon.”

  “Have you decided what it is you want to learn yet?” she asked.

  Madison shrugged and started walking across the grassy quad. The short green grass was coated in a fine dew, and the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. There were a few birds chirping somewhere close by, but it was completely quiet and still other than that. “I just need to learn to fight,” he answered honestly. “. . . Or remember, depending on the source. That’s all that matters.”

  “Why?” She gave him a sideways glance as they walked. “You don’t even have a ring yet,” she said accusingly. “You aren’t even prepared for the day-to-day life in this place, and you’ve already gotten yourself involved in matters that are way over your talent. You haven’t even had your first day of training, and you’ve already bought into the indoctrination? Fight to win? Fight to live?”

  “You said it yourself,” he said pointedly. “Fighting is a way of life around here. Also”—he reached into his pocket and pulled out the simple bronze ring that he had kept there since it was given to him and held it up—"I actually do have a ring. I just haven’t bothered putting it on yet.”

  “Why?” She glanced at the small piece of jewelry in his hand and then down at her own. “That’s the only form of protection you have around here. No one is going to bother a novice. If you don’t, they’re just going to continue beating up on you whenever they want.”

  Madison slipped the ring back into his pocket. “Of all people, you should know best by now that I’m fairly capable of taking care of myself when I have to.” I don’t know how I do it sometimes, but I seem to get by somehow. “And . . . Well, to be honest, I guess putting it on just makes things feel too real . . . It’s like there’s this finality to it, like putting it on somehow makes all this official.”

  Shayna harrumphed, and she didn’t say anything for a while after that as the two walked around aimlessly. He was following her, but before they made it very far, he began to suspect that she was following him. Eventually, they stopped on a small bridge that crossed over the stream, and he sat down on a wooden bench there and watched the stream flow by below. Shayna paced back and forth for a while, but she eventually sat down next to him, although he noticed that she seemed hesitant to do so. She seemed to be mulling over something, but she hadn’t said anything, and he didn’t really expect her to.

  “You have two good friends, you know,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “Sandra and Cruz, I mean. They were really worried about you.”

  Shayna huffed. “They worry too much. I can—”

  “Take care of yourself,” Madison interjected with a sly grin. “I know.”

  She looked at him angrily, like she was going to shoot him a retort, but she never did. Her facial features changed abruptly, and she looked solemn—almost sad. “They really are good friends. But they’re so caught up on each other that they tend to lose track of everything else that’s going on around them.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Madison observed, thinking back. “Sandra was pretty quick to let me know about these visitors that are set to arrive today. Rae had already beaten her to it, of course, but she was still on top of things.”

  Shayna shook her head, and Madison felt her ponytail brush up against his back. “Not like that. They just sort of . . . lost sight of things. They’re not the same as they used to be. When they both got here, they were so . . . different. They both struggled at first. Her especially. But now, they’re happy with whatever life throws at them just as long as they’re together.”

  Madison thought he understood what she was trying to say, even if he had to read between the lines for what was left unsaid. “They stopped fighting. They stopped training to get stronger; they’re only going through the motions now.” When Shayna nodded slightly, confirming his suspicions, he added, “They stopped fighting to escape. They gave up on the lives they left behind and accepted the gospel of K’yer Utane.”

  “No one escapes K’yer Utane,” she said quietly, gazing off into the distance as she repeated the mantra. “Once you’re here, you’re here. You belong to them now.”

  Madison leaned into to her, nudging her with his shoulder. “Nope!” he declared confidently. “K’yer Utane is here for my personal use. I’m going to learn everything I can and walk away. There’s no way I’m going to be stuck here, and there’s no way I’m going to be a pawn in someone else’s game. Whatever they’re planning on using me for, it won’t work.”

  He watched as her expression turned from confusion to shock to admiration and then back to her default setting of anger. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” she declared suddenly. “A pervert and a creep and an idiot!” She jumped up from the bench and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “This is just a trap, isn’t it? You’re pretending to be nice to me so that I’ll let my guard down! But it’s not going to work. I’m going keep my eye on you from now on!” With that final promise, she turned around and ran off toward the main building.

  Madison sat and watched her leave. She’s definitely a strange one. I know I pick on her a good bit, but . . . He left that thought unfinished and returned to watching the water roll by.

  CHAPTER 10

  Madison sat where he was and watched the sun come up. It began in soft red hues and grew into a brilliant display of reds and oranges that colored the sky before creeping over the edge of the valley to begin burning away the dew and illuminating the land. He assumed he was watching it rise in the east. As long as that assump
tion was correct, he now had a better map of the valley’s layout in his head. That meant he had come in from the north and walked a short distance before passing beyond the high outer walls. It wasn’t a big detail, but if he was serious about the claims he made, he had to start learning these things. He might only get a single chance to escape, and the more he knew about the world outside before that time, the better his chances would be.

  People began stirring sometime just after sunrise. Warren hadn’t been wrong about that. They trickled out alone at first, and then in pairs, and then in small groups, and they all headed straight to the dining hall. Whatever plans the cooks were making must have been finished during the night because it didn’t look like anyone was turned away at the door. Seeing that, Madison slowly made his own way there as well. He wasn’t in any particular hurry, but he wanted to take advantage of the fact that he was awake and would be able to beat out almost everyone else. Since he had skipped out on two meals the day before, he was also pretty eager to get some sustenance in him.

  His assumptions proved to be correct, and he was able to pick up a giant plate of food and a rather large cup of the coffee substitute without much ado. He found a seat at a small table by himself and sat where he could watch the front door as people began streaming in. People watching had been one of his favorite things to do back home whenever he was out in public, and he hoped that he might be able to learn something about the people here just by paying attention to them as they came to eat. It was amazing how much he was able to pick up on just by watching people as they interacted with one another.

  It turned out, however, that he wasn’t able to pick up very much he didn’t already know. Despite being an official day for training and classes, most people seemed to show up in the same casual attire and with the same relaxed attitudes that he had seen the day before. They walked in wearing light clothing of various colors, barefoot or in sandals, and often in pajamas. He hadn’t exactly expected everyone to walk around in full battle armor with weapons at the ready at all times—Shayna might have been an exception in that regard—but even some small indication of what they were training for would have been nice.

  He knew that everyone was expected to choose from one of the various schools as a primary skill trade, although they were free to study from the others as long as they had the aptitude for it, so he had thought that maybe he might be able to pick up on something that would distinguish one from another. Primarily, he needed to find someone who could teach him a few things about magic. If he was going to train with his clone the way he intended, he was going to have to learn how to either estimate the flow of time between the two worlds while he was inside the testing room, or he was going to have to figure out how to control it. But, as far as he could tell, you either had to know what someone was good at, or you had to ask. Mages didn’t walk around with floppy hats and robes, rogues didn’t walk around in light armor and with daggers or bows, and warriors didn’t walk around in plate armor with axes strapped to their back. The one exception might have been the healers he had seen in the infirmary. They all wore the same strange combination of golden-white robes he had become accustomed to that made them look like crosses between candy stripers and nuns. Still, they didn’t appear to even wear those if they weren’t on duty or on their way to or from the infirmary.

  So, in the end, he didn’t actually learn very much. One thing he did pick up on was that Warren had been right about Randall: the guy was treated as something of a celebrity everywhere he went. Women doted on him and men seemed to gravitate to him, sucking up for every bit of attention they could. The self-absorbed pretty boy walked in about the time Madison was finishing eating, and he brought an entire entourage along with him. Despite the early time of day, there was a young blonde clinging to his arm, and there were several surly-looking young men who went ahead of him and behind in the same way that bodyguards might a rich, well-to-do celebrity. It was almost comical to watch as they walked in, checked out the area, and had two of them go to secure a table large enough for them all while the others went and grabbed food.

  Being a Sworn, Randall was able to jump the entire line of people waiting and pick up whatever he wanted—a privilege that was granted to him as a benefit of his rank and apparently one that was also extended to the girl who trailed along with him. Everyone he cut in front of seemed happy enough to allow him to go ahead, though several cast nasty stares at the young woman, and Madison had to wonder if it was because they simply didn’t like the fact that she was taking advantage of her relationship with Randall or if it was because they were jealous of her for that same relationship.

  Not wanting to stick around for whatever show was about to start, Madison collected his things, dropped off the dirty dishes, and then headed for the door. He needed to find Warren or someone else who could tell him exactly where he was supposed to be and when. He wasn’t exactly eager to continue his role as the punching bag, but he wanted to take this as seriously as possible, and that meant being on time.

  Before he could make it down the steps outside the dining hall, however, a young girl came running up to him. She couldn’t have been over ten years old, and she flagged him down just as he was about to head back toward the men’s dorm to find Warren.

  “You’re Madison!” she exclaimed in a high-pitched squeak as she stopped in front of him, huffing and out of breath.

  “I am,” he answered, looking at her curiously. What in the world is this about? “Who are you?” He asked as politely as he could despite the fact that it was a rather blunt question. He might be a bit of a jerk to people, but that wasn’t an attitude that normally extended to young children.

  “Ryder sent me to find you,” she answered in between breaths. “You’re supposed to report to Ryder’s office immediately. He said to skip breakfast if you haven’t eaten already.”

  “Did he say why?” Madison asked.

  She stopped gasping for breath and looked up at him in surprise. “What?” she asked. She seemed genuinely astounded by the question.

  “You’re not related to Shayna by chance, are you?”

  “Wh-what? Who?”

  “Never mind,” Madison answered, shaking his head dismissively. “You just have that same confused lost-puppy look she does whenever you ask her something she doesn’t have an immediate answer for. I take it you don’t know why he wants to see me.”

  “N-no.” Her eyes managed to grow even larger as she looked up at him. “W-why wou—"

  “Well, thanks for the message.” He threw a hand up as he walked past her as a means of saying goodbye and kept walking. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could feel her eyes watching him all the way to the main building.

  So, what is it now? I wonder if he’s going to assign me some type of training regimen or something. Or do I get something like a class list? Something that says be in X location at Y time? I really need to start asking about these types of things beforehand. And someone really needs to start telling me what’s going on. This is like starting a new job without anyone bothering to tell you what your job is beforehand. Oh, sure, you know you’re supposed to ‘clean,’ but what does that even really mean? Clean what? Where? When? ‘Train hard,’ they said. With whom? Where? At what time? Train hard for what?

  He made his way through the main building and arrived at Ryder’s office—or at least what he thought was Ryder’s office. The only thing he remembered that distinguished Ryder’s office door from all of the others was a simple woven rug that had been laid out to cover the stone floor, so when he found that, he just assumed he was in the right place. He had pushed his way in unannounced last time, but he hesitated to do so now. He knew that Ryder was expecting him, but now that he had seen what the man was capable of when he was in a good mood, he didn’t really want to piss him off over something as trivial as simple manners. So, Madison knocked. When there wasn’t an answer, he knocked again. After the third time, he began to question whether or not he was actuall
y in the right place. So, he pushed the door open and silently stepped inside.

  The office was laid out exactly as he remembered it. There were bookshelves along each of the walls, several small reading tables, and a heavy desk placed against the far wall in front of a large glass window. Everything was also spotless. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere to be seen, and everything seemed to be in the exact spot where it belonged. He was vaguely aware of the fact that this was probably how some people’s grandmother’s houses looked. Everything was neat and tidy and clean and perfectly arranged. I wonder if he has people clean his office for him? Or if he’s just neurotic about keeping things orderly? So, this is definitely the right place. But where’s Ryder?

  Madison stepped inside completely and let the door swing shut behind him. I guess I’m just supposed to wait for him? Shrugging to himself, Madison settled into one of the more comfortable-looking chairs. He was tempted to take Ryder’s since he’d be able to see out of the large window that way, but he decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he chose a high-backed chair next to one of the reading tables and began looking over the book that was open on the table there.

  The ancient tome had a musty smell about it and was written on something that looked like parchment but was much rougher to the touch. Like every other text he had perused, it was also written in a language he couldn’t understand. The book looked like it might crumble apart at any moment, so he left it lying where it was without picking it up. Carefully, however, he began to thumb through its pages. He was hoping that something would jump out at him that he might understand. He knew that some people had a gift for languages. They could pick up a language just by studying it for a few weeks or decipher the written text by picking up on patterns. Unfortunately, he wasn’t one of those people, and the manuscript was written in something that was probably closer to hieroglyphs than any phonetic alphabet.