“Okay, question and answer time,” I say, giving them a chance to rest before they start dual forms and sparring. “You just got out of the Initiate classes, so I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions running through your minds.”
“Are you really the youngest person to graduate the Youngling course?” one of the boys asks. “They say you graduated at sixteen.”
“Seventeen,” I correct him. “And yes. I graduated just over five years ago. I did my first field hunt two weeks later.”
“What’s it like out there?” Kristina asks, her eyes big. She’s scared . . . but that’s not a bad thing. Fear, if you use it right, can sharpen your senses.
“I’m not going to blow dust in your faces. It’s two things,” I reply, smirking a little as I see the anticipation on their faces. “It’s adrenaline and boredom.”
“What?” one of the boys remarks, surprised.
“Adrenaline and boredom,” I repeat, grinning. “And a lot more boredom than adrenaline. Listen, going out on Hunts isn’t like the action holos that you all sneak onto your S-Pads to watch back in your rooms at night. It’s not two straight hours of kicking, punching, twirling weapons, and badass one-liners. Oh, and the mandatory make-out scene . . . or more.”
A few of the students blush, and I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll let your academic instructors handle filling you in on the real details of that. But back to the point, the last Hunt I went on was three weeks long. For twenty of those days, you know what I saw?”
“What?”
I look out toward the walls of Solace, shivering. “The Scorched Earth. Nothing but grasses, trees, mutie animals, and all the other shit that you’ve read about and yet to discover because you’re kept here in Solace’s green zone. But you’ll be heading out there soon enough, and it’s boring. The way the wind can come off the hills, or the way everything just stretches out in front of you . . . and most of it, you’ll be crossing at a walk. Vehicles are too rare for every mission, and your prey won’t let you get near in the average vehicle anyway.”
“What about the other day?” another of the boys asks, and I nod, pursing my lips.
“There’s the adrenaline. I caught sight of my prey on day nine, and it took another day to find their hole. A small coven of vamps, the degenerate kind. They’d been hunting livestock and farmers to the southwest of Solace. Total fighting time was maybe fifteen minutes, but in that amount of time, I was totally exhausted. Adrenaline is your greatest strength but also your greatest weakness. With it, you can punch harder than you think possible, run faster than possible, and move faster than possible. But when it’s over, your body is going to cash in on that debt very quickly. It’s called The Crash. That’s actually the most dangerous time.”
“Why?” Kristina asks, but before I can answer, a high-pitched, raspy voice answers from the doorway to the Academy.
“Because it’s in that time that a smart enemy attacks again. Exhaust you, get you worn out . . . then hit you with their main force,” Telemachus Bright says, coming in. He’s wearing his team leader uniform, the blacks and greens of his rank badge standing out against my current instructor’s greys. “It’s why only the best make the teams. You have to be able to trust your teammates to not let you down when you’re in the shit.”
Or you just get good enough to not work with a team,I think silently. Telemachus and I have bumped edges before, but he is a team leader. I’m technically lower in rank.
“So, are the teams different?” one of the boys, Eric, asks. He’s got that sort of eager look, the kind that wants to be noticed and to please his superiors. He’ll be very good on a team in the future.
“Yes and no,” I reply before Telemachus can fully take over. “Solo Hunters have to be aware as well, but the missions are different. Different roles for different jobs.”
“You mean hit and run away,” Telemachus says mockingly, sneering at me before turning to the students. “If you really want to be the best, you get yourself on a good team with a good team leader. If you want to play pretend, be a soloist. They might just let you rest up in between Hunts by pulling instructor duty in the Academy.”
Okay, that’s it. “Telemachus, if you wish to demonstrate the superiority of a team’s skills . . . by all means, do so,” I challenge, stepping back. “I’m sure you have something to show the Younglings?”
Tension fills the air, and I see Telemachus bristle at my words. He’s talked himself into a corner, and he knows it. He can’t back down without looking bad in front of the Younglings, while at the same time, he and I both know it’s not going to be as easy as he boasts. Finally, he nods and goes over to the rack of training weapons, selecting a pair of hooked hand scythes, his preferred weapon.
“Form up and watch,” I order the Younglings as I select my preferred set, twin short swords. While a Hunter cannot be reliant on just one type of weapon, we all have our favorites. “Contest rules, best of three?”
Telemachus nods, grinning. “Of course, in a real fight, you don’t have anyone declaring rules or letting you face off against the other person honorably.”
“Which means you should be at even more of an advantage, being so much larger and stronger,” I reply, an edge in my voice. Make excuses now, Telemachus, because I’m about to show you why I’ve refused to go on the teams before.
The fight starts, and I take advantage of my speed, catching Telemachus’s left hand with the inside edge of my blade before chopping down on the back of his neck. These are training weapons, so the moves aren’t deadly. The field generators inside the handles make sure that I can’t actually contact his skin, but still, getting a feedback buzz through your neck hurts like hell. The closest I can estimate is if a hundred sand biters crawled under your skin along your spine and skull and all started pricking you at once.
The result is predictable. Telemachus goes stumbling, rolling across the ground before getting to his feet, pausing to rub at the back of his neck as he gives me a good stink eye. “Nice move.”
“Strike hard, strike fast, and walk home,” I reply, the motto of the solo Hunters like myself. “Let’s continue.”
We square off again, and this time, Telemachus is warier, circling in the dirt. I’m not going to catch him with a deft little move like that again. Telemachus is aware again that he’s not fighting some paranormal who is going to rely on their senses or their supernatural weapons.
No, I’m just a human . . . but that’s all I need to be.
Telemachus kicks at the dirt, a spray of sand flying up at me and catching me off guard. I was stupid, thinking he’d respect training rules and not use dirty fighting techniques that these Younglings haven’t been exposed to yet. But as I feel the butt of his scythe slam into my gut, knocking the wind out of me before his training blade drags across my throat and making even breathing feel like I’m sipping fire, I’m quickly reminded that I can’t make any assumptions.
“Your enemy is capable, fierce, and nine times out of ten will be on their home turf unless you get selected as a Wall Guard,” Telemachus says, the last two words coming out with all the condescension that he can muster. It’s a common trait among the Team Hunters, who see the Wall Guards as soft, unprepared warriors who only patrol the perimeter of Solace and go to sleep in a nice bed every night.
Me? I see them as being necessary and don’t fault them. At least the Wall Guards aren’t cocky pricks like Telemachus is.
I retake the line for the third point, anger and adrenaline filling my body. Telemachus thinks that his move last point has disabled me, making it hard to breathe . . . and he’s right. Even now, breathing feels like I’m downing the hotshot booze that you can buy in the Ringtown taverns. But I’m pissed, and I’ve dealt with this much pain and worse over the past six years.
He makes the first move, and I roll out of the way, intent on teaching him a lesson. Whirling, my foot connects with his calf and makes him stumble. One of the Younglings laughs, thinking that I’ve made a mistake because I di
dn’t sweep Telemachus’s foot out from underneath him.
But I didn’t want to. That would end things too early. Instead, as Telemachus tries to regain his balance, I’m back up, throwing a forearm to the back of his shoulder blade and paralyzing his left arm. He cries out, dropping the scythe in his left hand as he limps, one-armed and one-legged, away, his eyes filled with hateful fire.
He won’t give up, even though that’s allowed in contest rules. His pride won’t let him. It’s another difference between a Team Hunter and a Solo Hunter. I’m going to get my Hunt completed . . . but I’m also smart enough to know when to run away.
Telemachus backs up as I press my attack, and I chop with my blade to the inside of his wrist, totally disarming him, when a strong feminine voice cuts through the air.
“That’s enough, Huntress Lightmoon!”
My blade’s a half-inch from Telemachus’s throat, and he glares at me, pure hatred etched on his features. I smirk, stepping back and giving him an ironic bow before turning to address the voice, the Academy’s headmistress, Lily Highmoon. Petite, compact, in her sixties . . . and someone I would never underestimate.
“Headmistress, a pleasure,” I reply, bowing to her respectfully. Unlike the Headmaster when I was a Youngling, Lily shuns the robes of the academic and still wears the tactical tunic of an active Hunter. She can back it up as well. “Team Leader Bright was just assisting me in a demonstration.”
“I’m sure,” Lily says, a smirk lifting the left side of her mouth. “Actually, I came with good news for the Younglings. I’m going to have to unfortunately end today’s class a little early. Return to your rooms until lunch. You have some free time. And Jessica, you have time to complete that paper for your afternoon class that I’m sure you haven’t finished yet.”
The Younglings scatter to their rooms, all except the academically tardy Jessica grinning broadly who goes running for the library. In the now empty training grounds, Lily looks at Telemachus and me before shaking her head. “Bright, get to the infirmary and get that shoulder looked at. Cerena, walk with me.”
I nod, following the Headmistress up the three flights of steps to her office. It’s the second highest room in all of the Academy in the second-tallest building in all of Solace besides the Wall itself which towers another two stories up. Only the Elder’s office is higher, in fact directly over the Headmistress’s office.
The office is bare, stone walls and floor that curve around in a single unbroken space, with the Headmistress’s desk dominating the space in front of the only window. From here, Lily can look out over the training grounds without missing a single stone.
“Have a seat, Cerena,” Lily says, indicating the chair across from her desk. She’s not playing a power game. The room only has three chairs and one small couch, the rest of the wall space either bare or dominated by Hunter trophies and lore. Sure, the Hunter museum downstairs might contain more artifacts . . . but up here are some of the rarest. “And please don’t tell me you broke his arm.”
“No, although he won’t be bench pressing for a few days,” I joke with a smile. “What can I do for you, Headmistress?”
“You can stop with the Headmistress shit while I’m in my office,” Lily says with a chuckle, sitting down behind her desk. “You’re not a Youngling or a Probationary Hunter any longer.”
“True,” I reply, smiling. Lily trained me, mentored me, and in some ways raised me. A lot of what I am today, I owe to her. “But you’re not in the habit of interrupting weapons class. You know those kids are going to need those skills some day.”
“True . . . but I also can’t have you showing up team leaders like Telemachus,” Lily says, leaning back. “Cerena, I knew from your second year in the Academy that you weren’t going to make it as a team Hunter. No matter how hard I tried.”
“But you also knew I’m too damn good to be kept behind the walls or on Wall Duty,” I counter, “which is why you had me hone my solo skills. Which also means you know I’m not always the most . . . agreeable when it comes to being called out.”
“Hmm,” Lily says, musing. “That’s true, and I’ll admit Bright can be a loudmouth. Still, his team’s one of the most effective, and I’d prefer not to have two legends of the Hunter Corps tearing each other apart. But that’s something we can discuss later. I know you chafe wearing that gray tunic.”
I brush some dirt off my top, nodding. “You know I hate gray. Goes terribly with my eyes.”
Lily rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Cely used to say the same thing, back when she trained me. Your mother always hated being taken out of the field, but the rule’s there for a reason. I listened to your little lesson to the Younglings, and your point on boredom and adrenaline. But you know that boredom’s just as grinding and draining as the fighting. They’ll learn it too . . . but it’s also why we rotate Hunters in and out of the field.”
“It’s a good idea, in theory,” I admit, “but I’m terrible behind the walls, Lily. Yeah, the rest and getting the little kinks and twinges worked out of the body helps, and everyone can benefit from a good cleansing by the autodoc. But I’ve been off field duty for three months now. That’s more than enough for recovery.”
“I agree . . . although Crassus might not.”
I growl lightly, thinking about my betrothed. “Crassus would prefer I put in a request to become a full-time instructor or Wall Guard so I can become the good little wife and we can get to work replenishing the human race.”
Lily chuckles. “Which isn’t a bad thing. I’ve had seven myself, three of whom have followed me into the Hunter ranks. The process is fun, at least when done right.”
I shrug, looking out the window behind Lily. Yes, she’s barely entering middle age and still can throw down with Hunters nearly twice her size, but the idea of being a wife and mother . . . I shake my head. “I’m not ready.”
“Is it that, or is it Crassus?” Lily asks, amused. “He’s a good man, Cerena. Comes from a good family, and your DNA profiles say you’ll produce strong, intelligent children. The metrics say your kid will be kicking my kid’s ass by the time they’re Younglings.”
“Life is more than metrics,” I counter. “You taught me that as well, Lily.”
“Fair enough,” she admits, picking up a file from her desk. “Just something I wanted to ask you about. Cras and I had tea this morning, and he mentioned you. Then I got this file, and it stuck in my head. Like you said, you’re chafing behind the walls.”
“Only thing I like about walls is that I’ve got a good mattress in my quarters.”
“Yup . . . and Elizabeth thinks the same thing.”
My breath catches. Elizabeth, the Elder currently in charge of Solace, has a mission for me? “How can I serve?”
“She has a mission . . . a field mission. I think you’ll find it very . . . interesting.”
The way Lily says interesting worries me, and I lean back, lifting an eyebrow. “I suppose you need to give me the details.”
“Well, first . . . you’re going to be in a team.”
I roll my eyes, looking to the arched stone ceiling of the office. “Why not just stake me out in the Scorched Earth to be eaten by droogs?”
“Hold your horses, Cerena,” Lily says, using her old training officer voice that tells me she’s not fucking around anymore. “Yes, it’s a team. But Elizabeth thinks, and I agree, that you’re the best Hunter for the job.”
“Why?”
Lily slides an S-Pad over to me, and I pick it up. It’s my mission briefing. “I think you’ll see . . . this isn’t going to be your normal team.”
Chapter 2
Cerena
I leave Lily’s office, my brain swimming with the information embedded on the S-Pad she gave me. Instead of pondering it right now, I head downstairs, walking the granite hallways as I look in on the classes in place. While a lot of outsiders think the Hunter Academy only produces killers, we’re well-educated killers. We know more about ancient technology, gove
rnment, literature and science than ninety nine percent of the residents of the Scorched Earth. In fact, Hunters can often be called upon to be diplomats, scientists, or subject matter experts to our allies, not just warriors.
I walk by the classes on ancient literature, chuckling as two teen Younglings struggle their way through Juliet’s balcony scene, both Younglings uncomfortable with such declarations of passion.
If they think that’s uncomfortable, they should see when they get to their final-year classes and Cultural Expectations. It took me two months to learn that How low can you go? wasn’t just a song lyric.
I pass the mathematics and history classes and pause as I see the Initiates on the training ground now, running the Confidence Course. It’s the foundation of Hunter training, physical preparation and reaction. They won’t pick up a weapon until they become Younglings, but already, the Initiates are fit athletes, jumping the four-foot gap between balance beams, climbing the fifteen-foot Initiate rope, and more.
It’s a course I still run, even after all these years, although I make sure I scale things properly for a Hunter. Leaving the Academy, I make my way through the wide streets of Solace, enjoying the cool breeze that for some reason never quite makes it inside the training grounds. I don’t quite know why, but the air’s always still and hot there. The cool kiss of the breeze and the warm sun on my face feel good, even though I know it’s only a temporary respite from what I’ll face out in the Scorched Earth.
The apartment blocks for the Hunters rises, twin stacked cracker boxes that line the streets for a whole quarter of the city, divided up into different sizes based not on rank, but gender, marital, and sexual statuses. I make my way over to my apartment, a second-floor place in the block reserved for unmarried, strictly heterosexual females.
Walking down the corridor and opening the door, I realize just how little I use this space. The place just looks . . . unused. The small kitchen is almost pristine. I don’t do much cooking for myself and prefer to eat tavern food or food from the Academy’s mess hall. In fact, other than the pot of tea on the stove and the single cup in my drying rack, I haven’t used anything here in two days.
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