Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  Matoh had looked at her with curiosity. “Who are you?” He asked with more than a bit of awe. “The Arbiter? Like a judge of some kind? What was all that?”

  “I don’t really know,” Adel answered. She looked at her feet as her nerves started to get the best of her. “Up to a few months ago, I thought I was just a girl from the middle of nowhere who wanted to do well by her father, yet now …” She looked down at the sword at her hip and shook her head. “I don’t know. Fellow Callahan and Lady Buika told me …” she hesitated. How much could she tell? How much should she tell? She looked at Matoh wanting to share these secrets with someone, and she couldn’t burden Naira with it, not now after what had happened to her friend.

  “Told you what?” Matoh asked.

  “Some very surprising things about my past, and I don’t know what to make of it all.” Adel sidestepped the question, feeling somewhat hollow inside. If she couldn’t trust Matoh, who could she trust?

  Matoh gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, you found a way to de-escalate the situation back there, for which I know I’m certainly grateful. I … I didn’t know what to do. I never thought being a knight might mean hurting the people I am meant to protect. I froze back there.” He hung his head, ashamed.

  “I had no idea if it would work,” Adel said, “I just did it, and got lucky.”

  “Well, it was the right call, and for the record, I don’t care if you have a title, or what sort of past you might have.” His eyes met hers, and Adel knew he could somehow see straight down to her fears of alienating him with the truth. “I just hope I can still call you a friend,” he finished.

  Adel smiled. Matoh was as good a person as there could be. “For the record, ‘friend’ better be the only title you call me, Matoh Spierling. Come on, let’s go talk to Naira.”

  They made their way past the beds to the back and waited for Naira to acknowledge them, but it became glaringly obvious that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  “Ahem.” Adel feigned clearing her throat to try to pull Naira out of the manic daze she seemed to be in.

  “Yes, I see you,” Naira snapped, “I thought you would eventually get the hint that I’m a bit busy here.” She wiped the brow of a little girl and moved onto the man next to her without looking at Adel or Matoh.

  “Naira …” Matoh started then paused hesitantly. “You need to stop, you are a victim in all this, I–”

  Adel grimaced as Naira whirled to look at him.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Do you understand?” She held a finger pointed at Matoh’s face like it was a spear. “These people need me, I can help them.” The anger in her voice cracked, and Naira turned back to the sweating man on the bed.

  Adel was sure she saw a tear on Naira’s cheek, but it was wiped away as quickly as it formed.

  “I’m fine. Just leave me be. I just have to work. I’m fine.” Naira waved them away.

  “Naira, I didn’t–” Matoh tried to explain as he held out a hand that seemed like some sort of lifeline.

  “Go!” Naira snapped.

  Matoh stepped back as if he had just taken a crossbow bolt to the chest.

  Adel gently pulled him back a step.

  “I’ll see you back at the dorm?” Adel said firmly, knowing she had to be sharp to get through the emotional barrier Naira had put up. “Constables are calling us all in for further training tomorrow morning. Handling civilian populations, I guess, will be at the top of their agenda. Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t,” Naira said, finally looking up at Adel.

  They shared a look, and Adel finally knew what she needed to. In that look, a wealth of information passed between them. Naira needed time to process it all. She was angry, fragile, scared, distraught and, worst of all, embarrassed all at the same time. Adel saw all of this and knew her sister in all, but name would come back when she was ready.

  Adel nodded and just as emphatically told Naira she was here for her, whatever she needed, Adel would be there for her.

  Naira saw it and gave the briefest dip of her head to acknowledge her.

  It was enough.

  “Come on,” Adel said to Matoh, “we have to get back. I need to talk to Fellow Callahan about all this.”

  Matoh let himself be dragged away as Naira went back to the other victims of the night and tried to work through her freshest set of demons.

  * * *

  “Has Naira talked much about her mother with you?” Adel asked as they walked back into the armoury to check their weapons and gear. The building was set just behind one of the gatehouses as they entered the Academy grounds and at the moment was buzzing with people returning from or gearing up for duty.

  Adel showed Lana, the amoury attendant, her special writ of permission Fellow Callahan had given her which allowed her to carry the black sword around on campus.

  The attendant gave Adel an odd look after reading the writ of permission. It was highly unusual for an initiate to be allowed a weapon on campus.

  Matoh leaned towards the counter with a conspiratorial grin. “Trust me, Lana, she needs it. Heck, we need her to be carrying it as well. If she hadn’t been carrying that sword when she first arrived, all of Sentinel Woods might have gone up in flames.”

  Lana’s eyes widened, and she handed the sword back to Adel as if it might bite her. Lana wrote a note in her ledger quickly. “Very good. I trust you don’t also have a special writ?” She quirked an eyebrow at Matoh.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t have a weapon which helps me control my particular afflictions,” Matoh said, and usually he would have laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. Adel could see his thoughts were still miles away, no doubt still swirling around Naira.

  Matoh handed in his metal-lined club and small wooden shield absently and without comment. Lana seemed relieved to be back in familiar territory. She marked the items returned in her ledger and waved them past, though she still scowled slightly as Adel left with the sword still on her hip.

  “In answer to your question, no, she hasn’t told me much other than a few stories. I didn’t want to pry and figured she would get around to telling me when she was ready,” Matoh said with a sigh. “Why?”

  “There is a lot of history there, and not much of it good. One of the things Naira’s mother always used against Naira was her good looks and how it was going to get her into trouble. To distrust men, as all it gets you is trouble and babies you don’t want, that sort of thing.” Adel didn’t really know how to start explaining the tangle of emotions Naira had with her mother.

  “She would say that sort of thing to Naira’s face?” Matoh asked horrified.

  “That and a lot worse. Naira could eventually give back just as mean, but eventually stopped because the fights were just getting worse and worse. They came to blows several times, and as Naira kept getting stronger and training more with father and me, it soon turned into Naira’s mother getting the worst of those exchanges. Naira stopped fighting after that. My father went to talk to Naira’s mother not so long back, and things seemed to calm down a bit after that, at least the physical stuff did. Although, I doubt anyone could stop the verbal abuse, Naira’s mother spits at anything that moves.”

  “Wow.” Matoh shook his head, looking shocked. “How could someone living with a mother like that turn out as amazing as Naira?”

  “I like to take credit.” Adel grinned, and Matoh laughed. “But really it’s all Naira. She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever known.”

  “Well that’s something coming from you,” Matoh said honestly. “They grow them tough in Blossom Bay.”

  “Naira’s had to deal with more terrible things in her life than anyone has a right to, but every time I insisted on helping her, it turned into a fight. The best thing you can do is just be quiet and be there when she sorts it through in her head. You might have to take some misdirected venom from her as well, but that’s what she needs as far as I see it. Even with something as terrible as what happene
d, she wants to be in her own head right now.”

  Matoh nodded and seemed introspective. They walked a to the end of the street and were turning towards the small garden path into Fellow Callahan’s when metal-shod boots running on the stone slabs of the street were heard in all directions.

  “Adel Corbin! In the name of High King Ronaston, you are commanded to halt!” an official’s voice yelled in the night.

  Adel glanced at Matoh, confused and saw the same look on his face. They stopped walking and watched as palace guards hustled into a circle around them and a fully armoured Syklan knight atop an equally armoured warhorse trotted towards them.

  “What in the hells?” Matoh asked out of the side of his mouth.

  The Syklan knight lifted his visor, and a strong voice called out. “Ah, Matoh Spierling, we meet again.”

  “Sir Garrick, good to see you.” Matoh saluted formally. “Can I ask what this is about?”

  “You can, though I’m afraid I have no answer for you. I was on duty in the Red Tower and was told to come to fetch the young lady here and bring her before the High King. I was told to take an escort.” Sir Garrick looked at Adel then and gave her an appreciative nod. “The High King thinks very highly of your martial skills, initiate Corbin, and would like you to come peacefully.”

  Matoh whispered to Adel, “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know,” Adel whispered back and then raised her voice. “Of course, Sir Garrick. I would be honoured, though I must admit to being very confused about why.”

  “As I said, I was only sent to escort you to the Red Tower, and I must take you unarmed I’m afraid.” Sir Garrick smiled apologetically.

  Why is everyone trying to take my sword! Adel grimaced to herself.

  “She has a special writ to–” Matoh started, but Adel put a hand on his arm.

  “It’s all right. I’m fine at the moment. The bracelet isn’t even glowing.” Adel let Matoh see the bracelet and unbuckled her sword belt. She wrapped the leather around her black scabbard and handed it to the palace guard, who extended his hands for it.

  “Sir Garrick, Adel has a somewhat unique siphoning condition. She may need the sword to channel the sudden surges of energy she can be afflicted with.” Matoh stepped closer to Sir Garrick and was looked up at the man pleadingly.

  “I’m fine, Matoh, really,” Adel said, though she wished she felt as confident as she was trying to portray. Something strange was going on, and she didn’t want her condition, as Matoh put it, to make anything worse.

  Sir Garrick seemed to listen to Matoh, however, and nodded to him.

  “If you’d come with me,” Sir Garrick said as he turned his horse and started up the hill towards the Red Tower.

  They stepped into line and matched the pace of the palace guard beside them.

  “Is this about what happened back in the Xinnish district do you think?” Matoh asked quietly beside her.

  “Probably.” Adel nodded. Stupid! She screamed at herself. Of course, there would be consequences to such a display. This was the bloody capital of the Nine Nations, there would be people and politics of all sorts here. She wasn’t in Blossom Bay any more where if she proclaimed she was the Arbiter in the town square all that would happen is that people would look at her as if she had cracked.

  The more she thought of her sudden outburst, the more she cringed inside. She had sworn by Halom above to get justice for the dead! What had she been thinking? Even she knew you never made promises like that.

  The people in power within the city, the same people who had eyes and ears everywhere, had heard of what she had done. Now came the consequences.

  “Well, whatever it is, I got your back. If things start going sideways …” Matoh’s whispered words paused for a moment, and Adel saw him sizing everyone up, “just say the word.”

  You fool, Adel groaned to herself. Not only had her impulsiveness gotten her into trouble, now she was going to drag Matoh down with her. “No! You don’t have to get in trouble for this. There are things you don’t know,” she whispered angrily.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Matoh shot back.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Matoh Spierling,” Adel whispered sharply. “The High King has his reasons for this, and none of it involves you.”

  The side of Matoh’s mouth crooked upwards, and he chuckled to himself. “Now you sound like my brother, and I’ll tell you what I tell him, being an idiot is kind of my speciality.”

  Adel rolled her eyes, he was being a hero and didn’t need to be. Not now. Not for her.

  Soon, they were ushered up the stairs towards the enormous doors of the Red Tower, which swung open slightly to admit their party. They walked directly into the cavernous reception and throne room of the Red Tower, and there in the centre, seated upon his throne, was High King Ronaston Mihane.

  The High King wore a wolf skin over the top of armoured shoulders. He was in half-plate with an acid-etched breastplate displaying a great hammer upon his breast. He was a brute of a man, looking every bit like the conqueror spoken of in the stories, and Adel could see the years of battle written in the scars on his face.

  Adel and Matoh both took a knee and bowed before their High King.

  “Your Majesty, I present Adel Corbin, she came peacefully and surrendered her weapon,” Sir Garrick said and gestured for the palace guard holding Adel’s sword to show the High King.

  “It’s his sword all right,” The High King said as he looked down at Adel. “Your father was meant to be dead. At least, that’s what he had me believe. There were over a dozen eye-witness accounts of his death, so how, initiate, do you come by his sword?”

  “My father gave it to me, Your Majesty,” Adel answered.

  “And your father is Leonard Corbin?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Once is enough. You may address me as ‘sir’ after the first, at least that’s what I’ve been told.” The High King squinted down at Adel, as if not quite knowing what to make of her.

  Adel had no idea what to say, so she remained silent and kneeling as she was not given leave to rise.

  It was then that the largest woman she had ever seen walked into the room. The woman had dark lines of ink all over her face, and in her movements, Adel saw someone with a martial skill probably surpassing her own. It was like having a tigress suddenly enter the room. The giant golden sword on her back identified who it had to be. Yuna Swiftriver, possibly the greatest warrior ever known in the Nine Nations, and behind her, walked her antithesis, an image of grace and beauty rather than death and violence.

  “Ah, there she is. My daughter makes it at last. Hopefully, I haven’t pried you away from anything important?” The High King’s voice held both love and frustration at the same time.

  The High Princess, Adel thought, Echinni Mihane. What was going on?

  It was then she felt herself start to warm, and she saw the orange line begin to glow in her stone bracelet. No! Not now! She barely had any idea what this was all about, and now her body had betrayed her yet again. Adel felt the flow now, and resisted it, tried to force the energy out of her, but it felt like trying to stop a river by sticking your hand in it.

  “You may both rise. And who are you, young initiate?” The High King addressed Matoh.

  “Matoh Spierling, Your Majesty.”

  The High King paused and looked him up and down, nodding after a while. “I see it now, one of Natasha’s boys. I can see her features in you. Glad to meet you. Actually, I’ve just had a new trisk delivered to me by your father. A very industrious man, your father. Tell him it fits perfectly.” The High King shrugged his shoulders as if testing the fit of the trisk, which he no doubt wore beneath his armour.

  “Yes, sir,” Matoh said, looking slightly flushed at the scrutiny.

  The High King looked at Matoh for a moment longer before finally tilting his head slightly and steepling his fingers as he turned back to Adel. “Now, where did this sword come from, and what’s all this about bei
ng the Arbiter? The last time we heard that title was back when there were rumours of some sort of religious coup within the Singer Faith. This was all back around the time the Navutians sacked New Toeron. Things were all very messy back then, so I’ will hear your explanation of all of this.”

  Adel cursed herself inwardly. She knew it. It still had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she wished there had been another way, any other way, yet she couldn’t change that now. Nothing for it then, she just had to hope the truth as she knew it would be enough. “The sword was my father’s, Your Majesty, he gave it to me just before I left for the Academy.”

  “And your father, namely, Leonard Corbin, is still alive as far as you know,” The High King interjected.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The High King looked to the side and nodded at a man who then bowed, turned on his heel, and swiftly left the room through a set of side doors at close to a run. The big man’s head turned back to Adel. “Continue.”

  Just then voices down the hallway from where the runner had just left could be heard yelling in anger. The doors burst back open and nearly a dozen fully armed Hafaza and the same again of professional-looking soldiers pushed past the startled door guards and into the hallway. They all wore the golden symbols of the Singers and at the groups head was Lady Buika.

  “Not another word, Adel Corbin! I’ll handle things from here.” Lady Buika held her double-bladed glaive at the ready as the palace guards, and Syklan knights all drew weapons and formed up to protect their High King.

  More soldiers, and even some Syklan knights, Adel was shocked to see, kept pouring in through the door, so many now that the palace guard and the High King’s own knights were outnumbered. It had all the makings of a blood-bath with severe losses on both sides considering the talent involved.

  “This is not the way!” an older voice said from the rear of the group crowding into the throne room, and Adel felt a sigh of relief as she saw Fellow Callahan stomp into the room angrier than she had ever seen him before.