The Girl Born of Smoke

by Jessica Billings

  Tarana shook her head. “Not yet. I’m really looking forward to it, though. I’m going to be the one to find the wizard.” She grinned up at him.

  He laughed and several people around Tarana jumped slightly, including Roxanne. “I’m glad to hear at least someone here knows what we’re fighting for,” he chortled. “So many only join for the thrill of the fight and a chance for glory. They have no concept of what it means to be in the Wizard’s Army, to truly be fighting for a greater cause than their own selfish desires.”

  Nodding, Tarana noticed that everyone at the table was now staring in her direction. “I can’t imagine anything more important than finding the wizard and returning the world to how it used to be. And it’s up to us to find him.”

  “Very true, very true,” Kendall replied. “You’ll certainly do well in this army and you very well may be the one to find the wizard.” Apparently done with the conversation, he turned to the woman sitting next to him and began discussing towns and names Tarana had never heard before. Uninterested, she quickly finished her food and left the table. Ignoring Roxanne’s sharp footsteps behind her, she left her bowl in a pile with the other dirty ones.

  As she felt Roxanne’s hand on her shoulder, she reluctantly slowed and glanced over at her. “What?”

  “So you do listen to the things I say occasionally,” Roxanne mused. “Look, that was possibly one of the stupidest things I have ever seen you do, but that’s also the most I have ever heard General Kendall talk in the entire time since I met him. I know you’re trying to suck-up to him and you probably couldn’t care less about what the Wizard’s Army is fighting for, but I really don’t care, as long as it doesn’t affect me.”

  Tarana looked at her disdainfully. “Then what’s the problem?”

  Taken aback for a moment, Roxanne finally fixed her expression into a glare. “Don’t take General Kendall for a fool. You might have succeeded in deceiving him this time, but keep your distance. You got lucky. I like having you around, Tarana, but not enough to jeopardize my position in the army. This is an official warning. If you get out of line or do anything to upset my career, then you’re out of here. I don’t care how long I’ve known you, this is my life.” She waited for a response.

  Finally, Tarana rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t know why you’re so upset over nothing. I didn’t get lucky, I knew what I was doing.”

  “Sure you did,” Roxanne said tiredly. “Now get outside. You have training after breakfast every day.” She grinned suddenly. “And you have a lot of catching up to do. I've got some other things to take care of, but I'll be out there in a little while.” She briskly walked away, leaving Tarana to wander outside.

  The sun was low in the sky as Tarana entered the courtyard - a dim warmth in the cold morning. Dew from the stubbly grass soaked through her boots. A large group of people were milling around in front of the stronghold, talking. Standing slightly to the side of the crowd, she waited and watched as an increasing number of people exited the stronghold and joined them. After several moments of waiting, a group of soldiers, including Roxanne, walked out the main door and headed toward the group. The talking gradually grew quieter until everyone stood silently.

  “Alright!” one of the other women shouted. “Everyone in formation. Now.” Everyone hastily shuffled into loosely formed lines, except for the group that had just arrived, who Tarana assumed were the officers. She recognized several of them from the breakfast table. The officers waited silently as the soldiers shifted into slightly more organized rows.

  “Real good,” Tarana overheard Roxanne say to one of the other officers. “They'll skewer each other now.”

  The woman giving orders sighed loudly. “Spread out, will you?” she growled. When the officers were finally satisfied, they began the training. The entire group, led by the officers, drew their swords and went through simple thrusts and slashes over and over again. Tarana's sword was much heavier than she expected and her arm began to shake as she held it out in front of her. Slowly, it began to drop down uncontrollably.

  “You,” one of the officers walking by noticed her. “Take a lap around the yard. Stick to the wall. Go.”

  Scowling, Tarana dropped her sword, but the officer shook his head. Picking it back up, she sheathed it and took off toward the wall. Sword clanking uncomfortably against her thigh, she found the ground near the wall was bare and uneven; all the grass had been worn clean away. The sun now high in the sky and warming her armor uncomfortably, she jogged along the wall, sticking close and trying to stay in the shade.

  It took her several minutes to get all the way around and by the time she rejoined the group, her arm had regained some of its energy. The training went on all morning and into the afternoon. By the time they were dismissed, sweat was running down all their faces. Licking her salty lips, Tarana slowly trudged back up to her room and collapsed on her bed, exhausted. Her bedroom door slightly ajar, she heard the others coming and going in groups, their doors constantly opening and closing as they walked up and down the hallway.

  That day, and all the days afterward, training took up the better part of the day. Besides eating, training and recovering made up most of Tarana's time between sleeping. As the days passed, more and more people showed up at the stronghold and the meal hall grew louder and the training sessions more crowded.

  She assumed that soon she would be forced to move back in with Prisca. As she attended more training sessions, Tarana began to grow less tired during the endless, repetitive motions. Each morning, her muscles were slightly less agonizingly sore. Slowly, she found herself adjusting to the grueling schedule.

  After a little over a month of living in the stronghold, Tarana finally found herself one afternoon with energy to spare after training. Standing at the foot of her bed and feeling slightly surprised that she didn't immediately feel the need to collapse, she instead walked back out of the room without bothering to take off her armor. It occurred to her that she had never ventured further into the stronghold than her own room.

  She wandered down the hallway, light spilling out of the open doors on either side of her. Following the hallway around a corner, she discovered it was identical to the row of rooms she had just passed. At the end of that hallway, the corridor split off into two different directions. She continued to meander through the stronghold, seeing fewer and fewer open doors and other soldiers as she moved deeper into the building.

  As she turned one of the corners, she heard a familiar laugh. Slowing her pace, she saw the door next to her was only slightly ajar. Reaching out to push it open, she halted suddenly when she noticed Kendall lying on the bed in the room, hands behind his head. He spoke in a low voice and she strained to hear what he said, then froze as Roxanne walked in front of the doorway. Without even daring to breathe, Tarana saw her pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the side, her back to the door.

  “Well, I think I might have saved a little energy for this,” she said, apparently replying to what Kendall had said. Without turning around, Roxanne reached behind her and firmly shut the door. Staring at the closed door, Tarana heard her laugh again, the sound muffled. She edged away from the door, breathing quickly and shallowly. Walking quickly away from the bedroom, she gradually slowed and began winding her way back to her bedroom, avoiding eye contact with everyone she passed.

  It took her a long time to find her way back to her room, since every hallway looked familiar and every door looked like her own. When she eventually stumbled across it, she immediately lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She found that if she stared, unblinking, for quite some time, the shadowed indentations in the stone above her would appear to move, swirling into a massive whirlpool of liquid rock.

  Prisca peeked her head in the door. “Hey, Tarana,” she called, “I'm going into town to buy a few drinks. You coming?”

  Tarana lifted her head and opened her mouth to say no, then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I guess I'll come.”

>   Nodding once, Prisca turned away and paused. “Oh, and I already checked with the commander this morning in case you cared,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Not particularly.” Tarana hopped off her bed and pulled off her armor and clothes damp with sweat. The evening breeze through her window felt deliciously cool on her bare skin. Rummaging through her drawers, she found a plain set of clothes provided by the army and slowly pulled them on, muscles aching. Without hesitation, she also picked up the small knife Roxanne had given her and strapped it to her belt, tucking it underneath her loose shirt. She strolled out of her room and found Prisca waiting for her down the hallway.

  “That's what you're wearing?” Prisca asked, wrinkling her nose. “You look ridiculous. Did you even comb your hair?” Prisca's own long hair was pulled back in a tight braid without a strand out of place.

  Tarana shrugged. “You're one to talk.”

  Smoothing back her hair with one hand, Prisca shot her a glare. “Whatever. Let's go.” The two walked down the long steps out of the stronghold and down the gravel road into Ralinos. The sun lazed low in the sky behind them, illuminating the streets and buildings. Tarana followed Prisca into a bar lit brightly by large fireplaces on opposite sides of the room.

  Chatter and laughter enveloped the room, echoing off the walls and blending into one loud drone. The room was uncomfortably warm and smelled like alcohol and sweat. Prisca strode confidently across the room to sit at the bar. “This is where the locals go,” Prisca stated proudly as Tarana took a seat next to her.

  Tarana glanced around at the roomful of mostly middle-aged men and raised an eyebrow. “This place sucks.”

  Sighing loudly, Prisca frowned at Tarana. “Why did you even bother to come? You're always so annoying.” She noticed the young bartender standing in front of her and shot him a smile. His light blond hair was slicked back and his face was set into a frown. “Hey there, we'll each take one of your drinks on special.” The man didn't return the smile, but nodded.

  “What makes you think I even want a drink?” Tarana asked.

  “Alright, what do you want then?”

  “I guess that's fine,” Tarana said flatly.

  Prisca snickered as the drinks were set in front of them. “Oh, thank you!” she called to the bartender's back as he walked away.

  Taking a sip of the foaming drink, Tarana grimaced at the bitter, watery taste and swallowed several gulps quickly. Prisca nodded in approval. “Good, huh?” She took a swig.

  “Terrible.” Tarana took another gulp, trying not to make a face as she swallowed.

  Prisca looked at her for a second. “You know, I can never tell when you're being serious or not,” she said slowly.

  Tarana shrugged slightly. “So why did you invite me here?”

  Prisca grinned widely, showing more gums than teeth. “We're celebrating!”

  “Celebrating what?” Tarana asked dully.

  “In a week is the Young Soldier's Awards ceremony and General Kendall has all but given me the award already. Apparently, I am by far the best young recruit they've ever had, maybe even the best recruit, period. I'm to be commended on my dedication, hard work, and success.”

  “So basically,” Tarana took a gulp of her drink, “you killed a lot of people.”

  Prisca rolled her eyes. “There's a lot more to it than that. Don't be so ignorant.” Finishing her drink first, Prisca ordered a refill for both of them, which she drank almost as quickly as the first one.

  “If you keep ordering me drinks like this,” Tarana said, “I'm going to make you pay for both of ours.”

  Prisca grinned. “Pay? Why do you think I'm being so friendly to the bartender? With any luck, neither of us will have to pay. Why do you think I chose the bar least occupied by girls our age?”

  Tarana blinked. “Somehow, I doubt that will work. But if it does, it almost makes these terrible drinks worth it.”

  Giggling, Prisca pushed away her empty glass. “If you think this is bad, just try the other stuff here.” She turned to the bartender again. “So what's your name?” she asked loudly, over the loud mumble of the other customers. The bartender either didn't hear or ignored her as he walked to the other end of the bar. Waiting awkwardly until he walked back in their direction, Prisca tried again. “Hey, how's it going?” she asked him, flipping her hair back.

  He stared at her, a bored expression on his face. “Do you want something?”

  “I was just-” she paused for a moment and he turned away again.

  The two continued to drink until it became glaringly obvious that the bartender had no interest in either of them. “Haven't you had enough of this yet?” Tarana asked tiredly.

  “Just one more drink,” Prisca mumbled, staring blearily at her empty glass.

  Tarana groaned and stumbled down from the stool. “Fine, but I'm going outside.” She had had enough of the hot, smelly bar and felt restless. Reaching deep into her pocket, she tossed a few coins on the counter. “Meet me out there.” Prisca glanced at her in reply, then focused her attention back on the bartender who was still ignoring her. Shaking her head, Tarana headed for the door, ready to welcome the cool night air. As she exited, a man bumped into her, also exiting through the door.

  “Wizard scum,” he grumbled, glaring at her. She immediately spun to face him.

  “What did you say?”

  He spat at her feet. “Someone oughta exterminate you Wizard vermin from our city. That's right, I can tell you're not from around here. I know your type. You invade our city, eat our food, and drink at our bars with your loudmouth friends. You crawl through our streets like a buncha drunken rats and there's no getting away from you. You're everywhere.”

  Tarana shoved him against the wall outside the bar, throwing all her weight into him. He stumbled backwards, looking surprised, then furious. “Stupid girl,” he growled. He swatted at her with his fist, but she ducked away, almost losing her balance in the process. Recovering quickly, she pulled the knife out from her belt, unfolded it with a quick motion of her hand, and held it up to his chest. The man took a moment to realize what it was, then stiffened. “You have just made a very big mistake, girl.” He slowly reached his hands upward in defeat. “The army will pay for what you have just done.”

  Grinning slightly, Tarana prodded his chest with just enough pressure to cause discomfort, then slowly increased it, leaning into the knife. “If you care to discuss mistakes, I think you’ve made one of your own,” she hissed. “How dare you insult the people who are safeguarding this city against harm? You people are too pathetic to defend it yourselves. You should be thankful we're here to support you.”

  The man groaned and shifted slightly under the blade. “You're just a kid. You have no idea what you're talking about. I pity you, I really do.” Tarana alleviated all pressure on the knife suddenly and the man relaxed, feeling his chest. “Realized your mistake, have ya?” Tarana turned, keeping her eyes on him, and kicked him in the stomach.

  The man doubled over with a whoosh of air and gasped for breath, eyes closed. She held the knife to his eye and waited for him to open it. He did, his stubbly eyelashes brushing against the blade. It took him a moment to focus on the blade and when he did, he held terribly still, his gaze flickering between the knife and Tarana's face. Expressionless, she pricked his eye with the knife.

  He bellowed, straightening upwards and the knife grazed his cheekbone. Blood dripped down his face while he swung his fists wildly at Tarana, his eye squeezed shut. She easily dodged away and deflected his hands with her knife. When he turned his head to look for a way out, she stabbed him in the stomach and pulled upwards. He gasped with pain as she wrenched upwards through the resistance of organs and muscle.

  Falling to the ground, he squirmed in agony, his life seeping out of the deep gash. She bent down, wiping the knife off on his shirt, then tensed as she heard someone move behind her. Knife still in hand, she whipped around to find Prisca, eyes widened.

  “What...ha
ve you done?” she whispered.

  Tarana tucked the knife back into its sheath on her belt and turned away to head home. “Don't act so surprised,” she said calmly. “You’re supposed to be the big expert on killing people. This is nothing new.”

  “You don't understand!” Prisca cried. “People will know this was an act of the Wizard's Army and there will be consequences. Even if no one saw you actually kill him, they will blame us. And you especially will be ruined, along with the commander and probably me, as well. What could you possibly have been thinking?”

  Turning to glower at Prisca, Tarana twisted her face into an expression of concern. “Well, I don't know what I could have been thinking! Perhaps I had too much to drink,” she said in a sarcastic tone of voice.

  Prisca didn't catch the sarcasm. “Obviously. Well, maybe it's not all bad. If both of us deny we had anything to do with it, they might not be able to prove it was the army. We might be alright. But neither of us can say anything, alright?”

  Tarana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Not a word.” They headed wordlessly for the stronghold while Prisca sighed repeatedly. Back indoors, they each went straight to their separate bedrooms. Tarana closed her door and flopped down on her bed without even bothering to undress.

  What seemed like only a few moments later, she awoke to the sound of a loud knocking on her door. She opened one eye blearily, wincing at the sunlight streaming in her window. She half-rolled off her bed, landing lightly on her feet. The knocking continued, much to her irritation. Opening the door, she scowled out at the noisy intrusion. “What is it?” she snapped.

  Roxanne snickered at the sight of Tarana. “You look awful, kid,” she said brightly. “And you slept through training exercises this morning, along with Prisca. You two out late last night?”

  “You woke me up to tell me that?” Tarana grumbled. “And since when have I ever hung out with Prisca? I'm going back to bed.” She closed the door before Roxanne could reply and crawled back into bed, pulling the blanket over her head. To her relief, she heard Roxanne's footsteps trail away down the hallway. After dozing half the day away, Tarana finally arose and managed to open her eyes without too much pain. She changed clothes and wandered out of her room, amused when she wasn't immediately apprehended. Apparently Prisca kept her word.