by C. Ellsworth
Aeric turned down a hall on the right, his hard-soled boots clopping on the stone floor. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but he wasn’t likely to stop and wait for her either, so she kept in stride with him from a few feet behind. They passed a strange window that lent a small view of the courtyard outside. It was tall and narrow, barely wide enough for her to slip through. Curious. There were more of them, too, appearing every half dozen or so feet apart along the wall.
Aeric glanced over his shoulder. “Arrow slits. They allow the archers to fire out, while offering better protection than a window. They haven’t seen use, though, since the skeg war over two hundred years ago.”
She nodded. Arrow slit? Was that important? Would she be tested on that later?
Her blue dress made whisk whisk sounds as she continued. Aeric was quiet, giving only silent nods to the few guardsmen they passed. He had always seemed a brooding giant, but there was an unusual tension now in his shoulders, in the way he walked. What was he thinking? Those few guards eyed her curiously, but they said nothing, not even in greeting. What an unfriendly place.
They took one turn and then another, passing the occasional rack of spears, barrel of swords, or a bucket full of pitch, all weapons close at hand. The barracks was a place waiting for battle, it seemed, despite having seen no war for centuries. But the skeg might decide to change that at a moment’s notice. They certainly seemed to be growing bolder as of late.
Addy’s scar seemed to itch suddenly. The skeg might be brave—or stupid—enough to come inside the walls, despite the Mayor’s promise of increased vigilance, but they would never dare come inside the barracks itself, would they?
Eventually they came to a flight of stairs that lead up to a small, nondescript room, one wall opened to the outside with a waist-high railing to keep one from falling over. There were shouts coming from somewhere out there, and the clang of metal on metal. Guardsmen must have been training down below.
Addy followed Aeric over to the railing, where the sun showed bright from above. She raised a hand to shield her eyes. Down below was a large, open space about forty paces square. A dozen or so people occupied that space, squaring off with partners, weapons in hands, or striking at straw dummies perched on thick wooden pillars driven into the ground. As they darted about, their feet drew small clouds from the thick sand beneath them. The scent of dust and sweat was thicker here, the air warm and stale.
Aeric placed his hands upon the railing and looked down. “This is the training yard.” He could have been telling her the sky was blue. “You’ll be spending most of your time here in the coming months.”
He stood watching the guardsmen below, his dark eyes looking on with a tightness at the corners as if he was judging each move they made in order to sum their worth. He seemed a man appraising livestock—livestock trained to kill. Had Aeric thought of her mama this way, as a mere tool with one specific purpose?
She turned her gaze back to the scene below. All those people fighting. Her stomach fluttered. Rigorous training was to be expected, but those people seemed to be trying to do harm. If and when the time came, could she intentionally strike another person, even in self-defense? Could she have hurt . . . or killed . . . that skeg if she had had a weapon?
Aeric cast her a sidelong glance through his dark eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then snapped it shut again with a small shake of his head. Then, after a long pause, he spoke finally, though his voice was quiet and subdued. “Come. I have something to show you.”
Addy fell in behind, following him into another hallway that was nearly identical to the one downstairs, arrow slits and all. It was all rather . . . gray, lifeless; perhaps jewelry on a pig wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It might brighten the place up a bit if someone were to put down a carpet or two, or perhaps a pot of flowers here and there, nothing too fancy. Or was all this lack of color and depressing atmosphere part of the conditioning of the Guard? Being glum wasn’t a requirement, was it?
The path led them eventually to a circular staircase that wound upward. Aeric started up, taking two steps at a time. “This leads to the main watchtower.”
Addy hiked up her dress nearly to her knees and followed, but after fifty steps or so her legs grew leaden. Her chest heaved, and her breath came in gasps. She picked up one heavy leg and put it before the other until she reached the last step. Finally! She sucked air eagerly into her lungs.
Aeric was standing in a circular room about four paces in diameter. No, it wasn’t a room at all. It was a wooden-canopied roof atop one of the crenelated watchtowers. The whole town and the entire countryside was splayed out around them.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Lancing into the sky in the distance was the blazing blue Spirelight. So this is what it looked like from so high. The Tower below it was just a spark of light, the sun reflecting off its surface. “It’s beautiful.”
Aeric stepped to look out through a crenellation in the shoulder-high wall. “It is. But look around it, how the land is dead like corpse ash.”
Addy swallowed hard, her breath still heavy. Her stomach sank a little. A barren landscape stretched for miles around the Tower, a lifeless gray carpet with one shining beacon at its center. The Waste. It was exactly as the stories described, and yet it was so much worse seeing it in person. It was beyond description. It was more of a feeling that crept up on you, whispering words of death and sorrow and loss.
In an area between the Waste and the town lay a festering strip of land, like a wound in the earth. A sickly green haze hung in patches there, swirling and shifting as if alive. And where the haze did not obscure the land, distant trees stood awkwardly, looking frozen in the final moments of their death throes, bent and twisted. “Is that the Twisted Lands?”
Aeric nodded. “In some ways it’s more dangerous than The Waste.” The man looked uneasy, the lines at the corner of his narrowed eyes deep. Was he afraid? How could she be expected to go into a place that even the Guard Captain was afraid of?
The Twisted Lands and the Waste. Her stomach clenched. But if she had to go out there, to those places, she would have to get used to the sight of them. Was Mama this afraid? She looked at Aeric out of the corner of her eye. “Am I going die out there?”
The Guard Captain was silent for a long moment, his dark eyes trained outward, jaw clenched. “No.” His voice was blunt, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. He turned to face her. “If you listen to instructions, finish your training, and keep a cool head, you will come back alive.”
It sounded simple enough, but similar words were probably spoken to Mama, and she still failed. What really had happened to her? How could Aeric have left her behind? How?
Aeric turned away and started down the stairs. “Come. I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Through the tall, thin windows—arrow slits—an early afternoon sun showed through as Aeric descended the staircase and led her down the corridors. A guardsman by the name of Luarn Trens came upon them from the opposite direction, striking fist to chest in salute to the Guard Captain before craning his neck to look at her curiously as they passed him by. She breathed a sigh. When would they all stop staring at her?
Before long, they came upon a thick, wooden door that stood open, the sounds of raucous laughter emanating from the room. Aeric walked through, and the laughter abruptly ceased.
The room was just large enough for eight beds, four on a side, with the door between them. The room’s only window—not an arrow slit, but still small—allowed just enough sunlight through to see without candles. It was dark and gloomy and smelled faintly of musk and old wood.
Five guardsmen in the room pressed hands to chest and muttered a respectable “Guard Captain.” Sorsia and Traizen were at the room’s only table, playing cards in hand. Sorsia was a stocky, well-muscled woman with her dark hair in tight braids along her scalp and a light scar under her right eye.
Traizen was a giant, standing a foot tal
ler than most men, his reddish-brown hair cut short above a protruding brow. His dark, deep set eyes turned to Addy, and his wide, thick-lipped mouth stretched into a grin.
Karine, the mayor’s daughter, sat cross-legged upon her bed, her honey-colored hair cascading down her back. Her heart-shaped face was pretty, but an air of superiority on her pouty lips spoiled it.
Another woman—with short black hair and black eyes—was leaning against the wall, drawing the edge of a dagger’s blade across a sharpening stone. She was lean and muscled, standing a little taller than Addy, and she was perhaps a year or two older. Liah? Yes, Liah was her name.
Then there was Ryan, looking thoughtful as he lay reclined on his bed. The briefest of smiles—crooked as it was—appeared on his face before it vanished.
All eyes turned to Addy, and her stomach fluttered. She mustered a smile, but her feet kept wanting to shuffle her right out of the room. In her bright blue dress, she stood out like a beacon amid the plain-clothed guardsmen.
Aeric swept an arm toward her. “You’re all familiar with Adele Swift, I believe.”
None of the five responded; they just looked at her, considering.
Aeric continued, turning his head to speak directly to her now. “This is your company—Traizen, Sorsia, Liah, Ryan, and Karine. They’ll help you get settled and tell you how things work here at the barracks. Training starts tomorrow morning.”
And with that, the Guard Captain left the room, his booted footsteps fading off down the hall.
For an uncomfortably long moment, nothing happened. Addy stood quietly. Was she supposed to do something? Was there some . . . special . . . guardsmen greeting she was supposed to have known about? And why was Ryan looking at her like that all of a sudden? He looked . . . sympathetic.
Sorsia—her hair a mass of dark, tight braids along her scalp—sniffed, her full lips bending into something between a frown and a sneer beneath that hawkish nose. She stood from her chair and crossed the stone floor toward Addy, the swagger in her step decidedly masculine.
A hand taller than Addy—as tall as many men even—Sorsia came to stand before her, her dark emerald gaze piercing. Eyes of that color were quite rare; in fact, colors of anything other than shades of brown were nearly unheard of. And yet she earned no gibes from anyone for her looks; one did not test Sorsia Lewin if one wanted to live a long life.
“What a pretty dress.” Sorsia raised a hand to pluck at the shoulders of Addy’s dress with calloused and scarred fingers.
Addy’s heart began to thump. Sorsia was suddenly a curious bear that was sniffing at her heels, trying to decide if it was hungry enough to take a bite. And not one of the others seemed about to intervene. Be calm, Addy. Be strong. “My . . . papa gave it to me. It belonged to my mama.”
“Awww, sweet.” The woman’s tone was mocking now.
Addy felt sweat slick her skin. What’s happening? Is this some sort of initiation?
Abruptly, Sorsia took hold of Addy’s dress by the neckline and yanked it down, the fabric tearing away. Addy gasped, her heart clenched, and Mama’s blue dress fell around her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a thin shift. Mama’s dress!
Sorsia snorted. The others—all but Traizen, who looked on with amusement—turned their eyes away, but none of them made the slightest move to help her.
Face flushing hot and vision blurring through tears, Addy snatched up the remains of her clothing and clutched them to her breast.
Sorsia regarded her with a cold stare. “Everything you were—” Her voice was like a dagger drawn across steel. “—everything you possess . . . must be left behind when you join the Guard. You are no longer Adele Swift, woman. You are Adele of the Guard.”
Addy clamped her teeth together, her lower lip quivering. I won’t cry. I won’t cry!
Sorsia strode to the table and dropped back down onto her chair, her expression smug. “Your bed is there.” She pointed to the bed next to Karine. “You’ll find your new clothes in the chest beside it.”
Still clutching the tattered dress to her chest, Addy swallowed hard against the threatening tears and went to the iron-bound wooden box. It was old and cracked, in need of Papa’s fine touch. She lifted the lid, its hinges creaking loudly in protest. Inside, she found a plain, cream-colored, short-sleeved shirt made of cotton; and a vest, pair of trousers, and a pair of calf-high boots, all of soft leather. It was the same outfit the others were wearing.
Addy looked around. There wasn’t a place in the small room that offered privacy—not a closet, not a shade. Where was she supposed to change? Surely they didn’t expect—
Sorsia snorted. “There’s no room for modesty here, Princess. We’re all the same in the barracks. Not men, not women. Just guardsmen, all of us. The sooner you learn that, the easier things will be for you.”
Ryan breathed a sigh. “Go easy on her, Sorsia. It’s her first day.”
Addy blinked. Finally, someone spoke up for her!
Sorsia bolted to her feet and turned a furiously glare on the man. “Go easy?” Her fiery stare turned to Addy. “If this . . . girl truly is the one to end this cursed Faege once and for all, do you really think we should go easy on her? Bloody rot, I hope the Guard Captain works her like an ox in the fields!”
No one breathed a word, but Traizen gave Addy a wink, his large mouth still grinning. Addy’s heart beat furiously, her breath heavy. Pull yourself together, Addy. No one said this would be easy. If you really are the one to end the Faege, you’re going to have to be stronger than anyone before you.
Setting her jaw, Addy shot Sorsia a defiant glare and snatched up the pants from the old chest. Then she turned her back to them and pulled the shift over her head, exposing her nakedness to everyone behind her. The scar! Too late. Everyone could see it now, the shape like a bird in flight. But no one commented. Not a single word.
Traizen, though, whistled appreciatively through his teeth. The brute! But Addy was quick to pull the leggings up over her bare hips before digging back into the chest.
When she was fully dressed, save for the leather boots, she faced them all with a suitably cold stare. With all the heat in her cheeks, though, she was likely beet red! She shifted slightly. The soft leather pants didn’t feel so soft, now that they were on. At least the cotton blouse was comfortable.
Everyone was staring at her now. Even Liah spared a moment from her sharpening to look at her thoughtfully, maybe even approvingly.
Heart still pounding, Addy picked up her dress from the bed and placed it reverently in the chest. She would repair it someday, Mama’s dress. If she survived all this.
Chapter 11
Addy stared for a moment into her bowl of stew. It was nothing like what she had made back home; the potatoes were overcooked, and the carrots too thinly sliced. She breathed a sigh and lifted a spoonful to her mouth, chewing absently while those around her spoke.
The dining hall was large with six long tables—three to a side—and the lofty ceiling caused echoes from the voices of the two dozen or so present. Addy sat with those of her company, but she was a green apple amid a bowl of red, an outsider with little in common with the others. They largely ignored her as they carried on conversations about their previous exploits and various goings on in the barracks. How was she supposed to make friends with these people if they ignored her?
She sat in silence for a moment longer. Should she say something? She had to get to know these people somehow. The months to come would be miserable if she could not get those five to like her—or at least tolerate her. Turning to Liah, she put on a friendly smile. “How did you come to join the Guard, Liah?”
Liah gave her a brief glance and no more. So much for making friends. The woman had heard her.
Karine swallowed her stew and cleared her throat, casting careful looks at the dark-eyed woman beside her. “Her father sent her here.”
Now that got Liah’s attention. If those dark eyes were daggers, Karine would be bleeding!
&n
bsp; Traizen chuckled. “She tried to kill her betrothed.” Then he shoveled a large spoonful of stew into his equally large mouth.
Liah turned her narrowed gaze to the freckled man and placed her spoon on the table. She looked about to leap across and strangle him with her bare hands. Instead she turned back to Addy “The man was not who I thought he was.” Her voice came out a soft mutter.
She tried to kill someone? What could Addy say to that? “I’m sorry.”
Liah picked up her spoon and continued to eat, clearly unwilling to say more. There was a story there, but it might take a delicate touch to wring it out of her over time.
Sorsia motioned to Ryan with her spoon, chewing noisily with mouth open. “What about you, Ryan? Want to share your story with the Princess?”
“No.” Ryan’s face darkened, his eyes never leaving his bowl.
Addy breathed a soft sigh.
Traizen swallowed the food in his mouth. “C’mon, man. The four of us know what happened. Might as well share with the new girl.”
Ryan glanced up, a slight flush to his face as he regarded them all in turn, jaw clenched. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The words came out through clenched teeth. Then after a moment of everyone staring at him expectantly, he shouted, “What? I told you I don’t want to talk about it! What about Karine? Let’s talk about Karine.”
It was Karine’s turn to blush now, but she remained silent, a scowl forming on her face. Her perfect little nose rose slightly into the air.
Ryan persisted. “What do you say, Karine? Want to tell us about the little spat you had with your papa, the mayor?” Karine’s face grew darker with each word he spoke. “Didn’t he practically lock you in your bedroom because you were batting your eyelashes at Jorgen Thamon? And so you decided to rebel by joining the Guard. Am I right?”