by Amanda Twigg
“Everyone to your rooms,” Gertha ordered as he hurried to open the door.
Only a few swampers moved. A knot of pain centered between Landra’s eyes, but she managed to stand. Jex found his feet a moment later, and they staggered toward the door together, holding each other up. Landra’s last look took in sprawled swampers. Some hugged their heads, and others lolled in lifeless heaps. There were no obvious scars, only injured auras. Lindart’s limp body sprawled next to his bench, a heap of muscle and bone. He twitched three times before stilling.
Landra refused to watch another aura spread from existence, so she fled. She found her room, threw herself onto the bed, and closed her eyes, hoping to seal the memory away. She hadn’t taken to Lindart, but that didn’t mean she wanted him dead. She hadn’t known the other swampers well, but did that mean…?
More death? Shelk. When will this end? Where can I go to find peace? She huddled into a ball and keened. The night stretched long.
Fourteen.
Or less.
Or none.
Chapter 30
The Templers left the swampers alone for the best part of two days after the garden incident. Landra copied Rhias’s trick, spending most of the time on her bed buried beneath covers.
As another night closed in, Jex stood by his bed, poking a finger in his ear. “My hearing’s still not recovered. Does anyone know…?” He paused, his brow wrinkling. “The garden room. What happened?”
“Magic!” Landra said, dread twisting her guts. Enough magic to kill a swamper. Shelk. Enough to kill Lindart and maybe all of us. Life might be easier here than in the underlevel, but it was no game. She rolled over and stared through the window, her mood too dark for conversation. Soldiers moved along the ramp, and she thought of Father. Do you know the danger our people face from the temple? Landra didn’t think so. Soldiers always belittled Templer powers, but she’d seen that blast. She’d felt its effects. Shelk. This is bad. What happens if Templers unleash their power on our world? Once she escaped, she had to pass a message to Chief Hux. Guess I am a spy.
In the deepest part of the night, a noise startled her awake. The door opened and Gertha crept in, surveying the room by the faint light of his staff. “You.”
Landra’s heart raced. She curled tight beneath her blankets, waiting for the enforcer’s strong arms to grapple her from the bed. Blood pounded in her ears.
“Me, Templer?” Rhias said, her voice weaker than Landra had ever heard.
“Of course, you. Was I pointing to anyone else?”
Thank shelk. But why do you want a young girl?
“Follow me,” Gertha said.
Landra peeked out from her blankets and watched Rhias swing a cloak around her shoulders. Should she ask where they were going? The thought still echoed in her thoughts as the pair disappeared through the door. Shelk. Just like that, Rhias was gone. I’ll ask what happened when you come back. In the morning.
She couldn’t sleep now, and her gaze picked out odd features of the room in the half-light. A beam fell on Jex’s grim face and staring eyes.
“Jex?”
He took a moment to speak. “Do you think…?”
The unfinished question made Landra wince. Do you think she’s gone back to the underlevel? Do you think they killed her, like Ossek did to Lindart? His half-finished question unearthed her guilt. Taking a candidate in the middle of the night—that can’t be good.
“We should have said something,” Jex said.
“Or done something.”
“Yeah,” Dennark said. “You should have done something. Better they took you, Hux, than a young girl like Rhias.”
I’m young too. She nursed the accusation for a while before accepting the truth. Young in years, but not experience. I’m a Hux and the chief elect. You’re right, Dennark. It should have been me.
Landra stayed awake to listen for the girl’s return, but dark dream snatches eventually came. Father planned for war, Turgeth hunted for his brother’s killer, and Preston went to sleep vowing revenge. The visions brought her upright, her breath racing, and a demon-mist panic surged blood through her veins.
The hethra? No, no, no. Can’t be. I killed Preston. It was a dream. Just a dream.
“What’s got into you?” Dennark asked.
Rather than answer, she turned over and pretended to sleep. Once morning light brightened the room, she jumped straight up and swung a cloak over her sleeping skins. Her gaze locked on Rhias’s rucked covers.
“Gone for good, I reckon,” Dennark said.
It was hard to breathe. Hard to accept the person she’d become. Who watched a young girl being taken away and did nothing to help? A coward? The truth was uglier. Landra had experienced the world’s evils and was driven to survive.
Gertha flung the door open and ducked his head inside. “Classes resume today. Check the notice board for your schedule.”
Chapter 31
The garden room. Of course. Why had Landra thought the first lesson back could be anywhere else? It became clear how much the candidate numbers had reduced when the students assembled in the dreaded classroom. With Lindart’s potting accident cleared away, it was ordered now. Of the fourteen remaining pots, only seven had owners.
Old Haydis was present, along with a fellow septuagenarian who attended in body, if not in mind. Maddon, a nonpracticing medic with a dubious record, had survived the cull, along with Toby, the last young runaway. Landra, Dennark, and Jex filled the remaining spots.
If there was anything special about the remaining candidates, Landra couldn’t see what it was. None had more than a splash of pink. She leaned on her bench and wondered about Rhias. Where are you now? Facing death in the mud?
Everyone shot up when Ossek strode in. He glared, paced, and glared again. Without a word, he packed away unowned seeds, scooped unused soil into sacks, and stacked empty pots. Snaps of nervous energy shot through the aura cloud faster than the twitch in Landra’s knees.
“Finally, we can begin,” Ossek said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Templer,” the group said as one.
He placed a new seed in his palm. “Watch.”
Only Landra witnessed the overture to the show. Ossek’s aura wrapped around the seed casing, and slivers of crimson caressed the husk in loving strokes. Was there a pop when the seed split down the middle? She thought so. All eyes fixed on the next stage of the spectacle. A tiny shoot pushed through the gap and opened two leaves.
“All it takes to grow an elba plant is magic,” Ossek said. “And all it takes to build magic is positive energy. Maybe that’s why we fail with you swamp worms. You’re too full of resentment and mean intentions to find your way.”
Not so nice yourself. How do you manage?
“Still, we have to try,” Ossek said. “The temple needs recruits, and you’re deemed our most suitable candidates, so I have to work with you. If you can find your magic, you will have a place here.”
Grudging. Pale swirls of doubt in your aura. Do you think we’ll fail or that we don’t deserve a place when we succeed?
Ossek focused on the new plant as he spoke, rather than address the class. “Over the next days, engage in activities to feed your Souls. Hug friends, spend time in the meditation room, share your happiest memories, and pray to the mist. Talking to you plant helps. Better still, spend plenty of time in the music room and play it a tune or sing to it. Nothing feeds the Soul like a good melody. Except sex, of course.”
Toby sniggered.
Landra didn’t know what to make of the instructions. If she had good memories, she didn’t want to recall them, singing wasn’t in her skill set, and under no circumstances, would she let anyone touch her, so that didn’t leave many options. Guess I’ll have to pray a lot. Or escape.
“Through all your activities, take your elba seeds with you,” Ossek said. “It works best if you keep it close to your skin. We have lids for the pots to keep them safe, and your robes have pockets to carry them. If you succeed, your elba will
eventually become your magical staff.”
Or a tree.
His shoot grew tall enough to produce more leaves. Magic lines wound up the stem and continued into the gardener’s aura. Landra’s gaze roved over the walls. There had to be more than thirty staffs on display. Each one culminated in a flourish of unique blooms, but all had the same red shade at the core, like an energy signature. They’re yours, Ossek. You’ve grown them all.
She picked poked a finger at her dry soil. “It needs watering.”
Ossek’s aura surged blue, and he waved his large hands in protest. “Absolutely not. If your seed starts growing using traditional methods, the plant is lost to magic forever, like it can never find a way back.”
Landra slid her finger away from the soil, nervous of the gardener’s temper.
“This is the most vital class you will take,” Ossek said.
Toby sniffed. “Isn’t testing more important?”
“Hardly. Magical skills link together, but you won’t pass testing without growing an elba. Have you ever seen a Templer without a staff?”
Landra opened her mouth but changed her mind. Better to stay unnoticed.
“Come back every morning to measure growth,” Ossek said. “Other than that, you have no need to visit the garden room. Well, that’s it. What are you waiting for? Go.”
Landra collected her lid but hesitated before closing the pot.
“Worried, Hux?” Dennark asked.
Yes, but not about what you think.
“Give it up, Hux. You’ve no chance of growing a seedling.”
“Stop calling me Hux. I told you. That’s not me.”
Before Dennark could add his next jibe, Maddon swept past them with a determined stride, as if on a mission.
Landra hugged her pot tight to keep it safe. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Where do you think? To have sex with my seed.”
Landra stared after the medic then regarded her pot with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you’ll settle for a chat?”
Chapter 32
Now that there were fewer swampers, some rules relaxed. Skipping music and meditation, Landra hid in her room without fear of reprisal. Can’t hold a note and thinking’s easier on my own. She went through the motions of trying to activate her chain, setting the links across her palms and closing her eyes, but all her thoughts focused on escape. Four doors. One through the shower room, one in the medic’s office, and two in here. All locked. Without seeing where the testing room doors led, she refused to believe what lay beyond. Could all be a trick.
On the third day of presenting her lifeless seed to Ossek, the gardener stared at her undisturbed soil. Anger hardened his chiselled face, and red flashes disrupted his aura.
Oh, oh. What did I do wrong now?
“Why hasn’t it sprouted?” he asked.
She glanced at the other lifeless pots, wondering why she’d been singled out. Only Maddon’s plant had any life, and the medic beamed with pride.
“I don’t know, Gardener Ossek.”
“This doesn’t make sense. It should be growing.”
Jex shot her a worried glance, which reflected her own fears. Being set apart from the others felt dangerous. “Could the seed husk be empty?”
“Of course not,” Ossek said, and Landra shrank from his blossoming aura power. His staff’s buds twisted and opened, and leaves grew over his hand.
Shelk. This is how it started with Lindart.
She rocked back on her heels, set her boundaries tight, and readied to run, but Ossek calmed his whirling colors. Instead of focusing energy in a death bolt, he closed his eyes and spread his aura around Landra’s pot, forming a protective cocoon. His head wobbled once, twice, but then he opened his eyes. “Your seed’s dormant and waiting for a connection. One you’re not providing. This isn’t good enough, candidate. Nourish your elba at once.”
“I… I don’t know how.”
“Is your meditation going well? Are you singing beautiful songs?”
Her mouth fell open, and Ossek turned to Jex.
“Have you bedded her yet?”
The engineer flushed, right up through his ears, and his aura surged.
“This is hopeless,” Ossek said. “Gertha, maybe they’re shy. Move the old man to a different room. I want them to have privacy to copulate.”
“Yes, Gardener Ossek,” Gertha replied, without any hint of embarrassment.
Landra wanted to slap Toby for the way he snickered.
Ossek snorted his disgust and then moved on to examine the boy’s pot. “Tut.”
“I’ve never had sex,” Toby said, “but I’ll give it a go if you put a girl in my room.”
The gardener shook his head and moved on. Each dormant seed received the same cursory scrutiny, until he came to Maddon’s tiny plant.
Bending down, Ossek squinted, put his nose up to the tender seedling, and sniffed. “Have you passed the test yet?”
Maddon shuffled uneasily. “I can’t seem to make the chain warm, Gardener Ossek.”
“Not surprised. Don’t mistake lust with passion, candidate. This seedling has a weak stem, as if undernourished. Once you germinate an elba, you have a responsibility to give it adequate love, and a relationship with your hand isn’t going to suffice.”
Toby laughed out loud this time.
“You have something to add?’ Ossek asked the boy.
“No, Templer,” Toby replied, straining to supress a smile.
“This isn’t good enough all round,” Ossek said to the group. “None of you have a connection. Hardly surprising from underwellers. Broken, the lot of you. If I had Chanda’s job, I’d send you all back now. As it is, you’ve got five days left to succeed.”
Landra saw blue flares of panic in every candidate’s aura. Five days. No one told us how long we had left. A full sixty-day cycle wasn’t enough time to train with Thisk. It felt like growing magic would take a lifetime.
“Everyone go straight from here to the music room and grow some Soul,” Ossek said. “Especially you.” He pointed his gloriously bushy staff at Landra.
She licked her dry lips, baffled by his attention. “Yes, Templer.”
As they filed out, Jex caught her elbow.
She yanked away, an aura flare flashing before her eyes. “Don’t touch me. I don’t care what Ossek says. We’re never having sex.”
The engineer flushed brighter than when the gardener had suggested the idea. “I was just going to ask why Ossek’s so angry.”
“No idea.” Wish I knew. “I think I’ll skip the music room.”
“Don’t do that or you’ll be out on your ear.”
Judging by Ossek’s outburst, my time’s up anyway. She wanted privacy to stow food, make a weapon, and gather clothes for the underlevel, but disobeying a direct order risked a speedy eviction. She pasted on a fake smile. “Take no notice of me, Jex. I’m just shaken by Ossek. You’re right about the music room. Which way do we go?”
Chapter 33
A red-robed Templer woman stopped mid-tune, her fingers poised over a keyboard. “Milleta, come here,” she said, gathering a child into her robe folds. Her graceful pink aura coils juddered as she cast her new audience a wary glance.
Gertha followed the last candidate in and stood by the door.
Trained to guard? Or a habit?
“Blessings of the mist, Musician Pearly,” he said.
“Blessings, indeed.”
“I’m sorry to bring trouble. Ossek’s given orders for all swamper candidates to attend your session today.”
“It’s what I expected when I took the position, but I wish you’d given me warning. I’d have arranged a sitter for Milleta. Should I send her out? Are these lost Souls dangerous?”
Jex is inquisitive, Toby’s mischievous, the elders can’t pose a threat, and Maddon was a careless medic but wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose. Only Dennark’s trouble, and he can’t match my murderous past. Shelk, I’m the biggest threat here.
Best keep the child away from me.
“We culled the worst, but I’ll stay on guard,” Gertha said.
“Thank you, Templer Guardian. May the peace of the mist hold you forever.”
Landra observed the interaction with silent distaste. Mist this and blessings that—too soppy for a soldier race. Had they forgotten who they were? Every Soul on base descended from Warrior stock. And what’s this calling Gertha a guardian? You should name him what he is: trouble.
“Look at all those musical instruments,” Jex said, pointing to the stage where Pearly sat. “Tutors denied me music in the soldier academy, and I’ve really missed it. Isn’t this place just wonderful, Lanya?”
Hmm. She slumped into a seat at the back of the room and folded her arms.
“Not keen on music?” he asked.
“Nah.”
“But you can sing, right?”
“Worse than a midlevel siren. I nearly went on report for humming once. Does that count?”
Jex frowned. “I can’t imagine that. A junior barrack’s chaperone used to take us out on temple visits to learn. No one thought anything of it in my city.”
That didn’t sound right. Music had zero place in Hux Hall, and Landra found this environment more alien than any she’d experienced so far. I’ll speak at the wrong time, touch the wrong thing, or try to sing and a weird noise will come out. “You go ahead. I’ll watch from here.”
He strode up to the stage, and an excited bounce lifted him up to the platform.
Bold and dangerous. Landra’s breath stilled, Gertha readied his staff, and Pearly gripped her daughter tighter than one of Thisk’s shoulder nips. Unconcerned, Milleta struggled free to gouge a boogey from her nose.
Jex ignored them all. He plucked strings, rapped out a beat on the drums, and finally held pipes to his lips so he could give a tentative blow. Encouraged, Toby followed him up onto the stage and threw a cheeky glance toward the thin crowd. He grabbed a violin by a tuning peg and swung it across his hips, as if it were a guitar. His first scrape of the bow across the strings sent juddering agitation through every aura in the room.
