by E. S. Maya
With a groan, Stiv rolled himself onto his belly. He began crawling around on his hand and knees, much to the crowd’s amusement.
Safi had to stop herself from stepping into the sword ring. “Stiv! Forget the sword and quit already!” Finding the hilt of his wooden sword, he raised his head towards Safi and Wulf. “You’re not going to beat him!” she said, balling her hands on her hips. “He’s seventeen years old!”
Stiv’s lips formed a line on his face. Sword in hand, he forced himself to his feet and returned his attention to Noth.
Safi narrowed her bushy eyebrows, making her most serious face. “Wulf,” she pleaded, “you’ve got to stop him.” He gave no response, so she stamped her foot, looked him in the eye, and pointed towards the sword ring. “Stop the fight, now!”
Wulf stepped forward, then paused. For a moment he appeared conflicted, turning away from her. When he looked back at Safi, his face had turned cold with indifference. “I can’t,” he said.
“Sure you can!” she growled, lowering her finger to point at the rope. “You step over this, and grab the fool by his collar, and drag him out of there whether he likes it or not!” Wulf said nothing, and his face was beyond unreadable. She threw up her arms in frustration. “Oh, you boys are ridiculous! If you won’t stop the fight, I’ll do it myself.”
Safi was halfway over the boundary rope when she felt Wulf’s hands on her shoulders. She attempted to shrug him off, but the Anderan was too strong. He kept her pinned firmly in place.
“Come on, farm boy!” Noth said. “You fight worse than your women smell.” Somewhere in the crowd, Hannah squawked with laughter.
Safi watched helplessly as Spanky called for the second round to begin. She expected Stiv to come out swinging again, but this time he lowered his wooden sword. A confident smile came over his face. “Let me show you what a farm boy can do.”
Stiv tucked his sword between his knees, reaching for his right shirtsleeve. Each dramatic fold revealed his wrist, his forearm, his elbow, until, at last, his thick slab of a bicep in all its twitching glory. The crowd made an excited sound. Safi strongly suspected his left arm was nowhere near as impressive.
Stiv charged forward, taking a swipe at Noth’s head. The fifth-year stepped backwards to dodge, then forward with a heavy downward blow. Safi screamed, and nearly looked away, but watched as Stiv threw up his guard.
Just in time, wood struck wood. Noth’s sword ricocheted backwards.
Howling, Stiv marched forward with a series of downward chops. Noth held up his sword and weathered the storm. Stiv battered him backwards with every powerful swing. Soon they neared the edge of the sword ring. Noth flinched when the heels of his work boots bumped into the boundary rope.
“I’ve got you!” Stiv said, chest heaving. With all the strength his big right arm could muster, he raised his sword over his head and brought it down with force.
In the time it took Safi to blink, Noth lunged inside Stiv’s sword range, rendering the blow powerless. He sent the first-year stumbling. Then came the swing of his sword, a blurring downward arc that struck Stiv square in the face.
The boys groaned in unison. Safi twisted and shrieked, but Wulf held tight to her shoulders.
“Point to the recruit foreman!” Spanky said.
Stiv hit the ground on his back, sending up a cloud of glittering orange dust. He lay there motionless, eyes fixed on the sky. Spanky stepped over the boundary rope and knelt at the boy’s side. He leaned over him and said, “Can you continue?”
Safi cringed as Stiv attempted to stand. But his head was about all that moved. Then he collapsed to the ground, slumping into unconsciousness.
Staring down at the first-year, Spanky shook his head with a smile. “The rookie loses! Let’s give a hand to the recruit foreman for another victory!”
Safi looked around at the crowd, stunned to hear her fellow recruits booming with cheers and laughter. There was the sound of passing money, but with the unfavorable odds, hardly a sovereign was made.
Squatting beside Stiv, Noth plucked the sword from his fingers and flung it through the air. With a yelp, Safi leapt out of the way. Then the sword found its true target. It clattered to the ground at Wulf’s feet. She looked at the Anderan. There was no way a boy like Stiv could defeat the Serk, but perhaps if Wulf fought…
Safi stared intently as Wulf stepped over the boundary rope, leaving the sword on the ground behind him. The recruit foreman stood tall and ready, but flinched as Wulf passed him by. The crowd thrummed with restrained laughter.
In the sword ring’s center, Wulf lowered himself to one knee and reached for Stiv’s arm. Safi understood at once. She hopped over the boundary rope and dashed to his side, helping to lift their beaten teammate off the ground.
Noth raised the tip of his sword and pressed it into Wulf’s back. “Scared, Anderan?”
Wulf kept perfectly still, face empty of all expression. Safi paused too, coming to the unsettling notion that he might actually be considering a fight with the recruit foreman.
Her tummy weighed with fear. She looked at Stiv, realizing that, as much as she wanted the Serk taught a lesson, more than that, she wanted her friends to be safe.
So she wrapped her arms around Stiv waist and pulled, attempting to lift him. A futile effort, but enough to startle Wulf from his thoughts. Easing her aside, Wulf slung Stiv’s arm over his shoulders. Together, they lifted the boy to his feet.
Safi stayed close as they dragged their teammate’s body through the laughs and jeers of the crowd, past the Titan’s feet, and back to the first-year boys’ barracks.
23
Blessing Day Best
Safi crinkled her nose. The barracks smelled of sweat, dust, and boy. It was a miracle someone hadn’t thought to open a window. Boot tracks zigzagged all about the hardwood floors, and not a single bed was made proper. Once the matron saw all this, she was certain the first-year boys were in for a stern talking-to.
She strained to help support Stiv’s weight as Wulf carried him, boots dragging, into the main room. Goggles leapt out of bed to join them. He did not ask what happened, nor where their teammate’s injuries came from, but he did help ease his limp body into bed.
Following a good stretch, the three of them pulled up chairs and sat around Stiv’s bunk. His chest made a wheezing sound, and that made Safi concerned. She knew they should have taken him to the infirmary! Why hadn’t she said anything? Now it was too late.
After some time, Stiv’s breathing returned to normal. His hands wandered to his ribs, and he groaned like a wounded animal. Goggles hunched over in his chair. Wulf lifted his helmet to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Safi scooted closer, to get a good look at Stiv’s face. The little hair he had looked like freshly trimmed grass, and his chapped lips hung open, making him seem dafter than usual. More peaceful, too. She found she quite liked this side of Stiv.
Stiv’s eyes remained closed as he shot up in bed. In what seemed like the span of a breath, Safi felt Wulf’s hand at the back of her dress, yanking her backwards. Her chin narrowly dodged Stiv’s forehead. The Berrid wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve, looking around in a stupor before meeting his glaring teammates. “Where am I?”
“The barracks,” Wulf said harshly. He pressed a finger into Stiv’s side, and the boy cried out in pain. “You took a right beating, but nothing seems broken. You were lucky.”
Safi swept back her hair. At its new short length, it fell right back into place. Through all their travels, she had never seen Wulf so angry. Gone was his cool composure. Now his face lived up to his name.
“That… did not go as planned,” admitted Stiv.
“You humiliated us!” she blurted out. There was an unexpected quiver in her voice. “The whole camp thinks we’re a joke, and we’ve got our first day in the Titan mines tomorrow, too!”
“Who gives a damn what those slaves think?” Stiv sat against the bunk post, arms folded. “Let ‘em gossip like a bunch of girls.”
Safi gave him her best impression of her mother’s morning glare.
“Whoa, Blondie, I’m sorry,” Stiv said, lifting his hand to block her from view. “Please don’t do that with your face.”
“You’re a slave too,” Wulf reminded him. “And Safi’s right. We’re already at a disadvantage with a girl on our team. I’m counting on you to pull your weight tomorrow.”
It was Safi’s turn to fold her arms. A week ago she might have kept her mouth shut, but they were in the thick of it now. “So why’d you choose me as a teammate then, if you think I can’t pull my weight?”
Goggles and Stiv stared at Wulf. They seemed genuinely curious for the answer.
“I don’t know,” Wulf said. “Would you have rather not been picked at all?” He looked away at once, as if regretting what he’d said.
Stiv made a sour face. “Oh, leave her alone,” he said.
“You shut up,” Wulf snapped. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess.”
Safi ignored them, speaking to no one in particular. “I just wanted to stay out of trouble, do my work, earn my freedom…”
“That’s the reason you became a miner?” Wulf said incredulously.
“To find a Siegestone?” Safi said, as if it were a simple thing, like sweeping floors or fetching water. “What about it?”
“Nobody finds a Siegestone, Saf,” Wulf said. “That’s just something they tell the miners to keep them working. A dream, a fantasy. Titan tale make-believe.”
Safi frowned. She liked Titan tales.
“Somebody’s got to find them,” Stiv said. “Why in the hell would we be here otherwise?”
Wulf let out an exasperated sigh. “It won’t be any of us.”
“I’ll find one,” Safi said, making sure her eyebrows were hard and determined. “I like make-believe.”
“If you were lucky enough to find a Siegestone,” Wulf argued, “you wouldn’t be in here in the first place.”
“I don’t care,” Safi said. She had made up her mind a week ago, in front of the warden, and nothing would change that. “I’ll find a Siegestone, no matter what you say.”
Wulf raised his voice. “You’re being ridiculous!”
“If she wants to find one,” cried Stiv “then let her find one!”
“You make it sound so easy!” Wulf said.
“You’ll never find one with that attitude,” Safi said.
“Attitude’s got nothing to do with it!”
“Enough!” Goggles said, leaping from his seat. The three of them stilled their tongues while his chair clattered to the floor. He picked it up and sat back down. “Safi wants to find a Siegestone. We all do. Arguing about it won’t change a thing.”
Safi nodded. The big-eared boy did have a point. She would find a Siegestone, and she’d do it with or without Wulf’s help.
“Um, guys.” The four of them looked up. At the foot of Stiv’s bed stood a skinny, dark-skinned Abedi boy. Jabbar was his name, Safi remembered, the fifth member of their mining team. He had trained with them all week, yet had hardly uttered a word.
“Hey, recruit,” Wulf said, sounding embarrassed. He lowered his chin, yet there was no hair left to hide the flush on his forehead.
Safi swooped between them, grasping Jabbar’s hand. Sticking out from between his fingers was a small, gray stone, carved into the shape of a man. “A Titan figurine!” she gasped.
Jabbar chuckled self-consciously. “I was in the middle of prayer, when you guys, well…”
“My father had a whole set of these!” she said.
“Made from real Titan stone,” Jabbar said proudly. “I pocketed it from the field during training. It took me all week to carve.” He placed the figurine in her palms. “Here, have a look.”
She ran her thumb over the surface of the miniature Titan. Her father’s figurines, of course, were finely detailed, carefully sculpted things. This one was crude in comparison, but a fond sight nonetheless.
Stiv leaned forward in bed, giving the figure an appraising look. “I never guessed you for the religious type, blondie,” he said.
Safi eyed him hesitantly. He probably saw it as nothing more than a crummy piece of rock. “I’m not,” she said, “but who knows what’s out there? Or who’s listening?”
Stiv shrugged, and Wulf scoffed. Goggles looked thoughtful but said nothing.
“The Titans listen,” Jabbar said with finality. He reached for Safi’s fingers and squeezed them shut around the figurine. The stone felt cold in her hands. “Keep it. I have a feeling you’ll need it more than I will.”
Safi sat in bed, running her fingers over the rough stone of her Titan figurine. The girls’ barracks lay in silence, and for that she was grateful. Silence made it easier to push her thoughts away. Easier still, to forget the day’s events. Yawning into her fist, she lowered her eyes to the ragged, half-stuffed pillow beside her.
She shook the thought from her head. She couldn’t sleep now! Not without telling Raven what had happened, and certainly not before supper.
So Safi sat, and waited, and some minutes later started in bed when the doors to the barracks flew open. She clutched her figurine tight, lowering her head, and did her best to appear small and inconspicuous. Then she watched as the girls began to enter the room.
Hannah led the way into the antechamber, all smiles and curls in the dim afternoon light. Was that silk hanging from the head girl’s shoulders? The fine blue fabric hugged every inch of her curves, gliding over her shapely body.
Safi scowled at the sight of her, seething with fresh jealousy. She recognized someone’s Blessing Day best when she saw it. She had, after all, once owned a fine blue dress herself.
Behind Hannah entered the fifth-years, followed by a flock of younger girls. They wore dresses of pious blue and Blackpoint red, though none as fine and expensive as the head girl’s. Bringing up the rear was Raven and Rebecca, dressed in simple browns alongside their fellow first-years. Rebecca hurried off to change while Raven stretched and yawned, sauntering across the room.
“Had a good prayer, did you?” asked Safi.
Grinning, Raven put her palms together in front of her chest. “In the name of God, the Creator of Stone, and all that.”
“It’s Father of Stone.” Safi remembered that much. Her mother had made sure of it.
Raven raised her palms and shrugged. “How could I forget?” She slouched forward and sighed. “Becca dragged me up front, but you should’ve seen all the good stuff happening in back.”
Safi raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure what Raven meant, but then her expression softened, for there was still the matter of the morning. “Raven,” she said carefully, as if testing a wound. “About Stiv…”
Raven stood up straight. She blinked twice and parted her lips, but her words took a moment to follow. “Now why’d you have to go and bring him up.” She gave their bunk chest a kick. “I’ve spent all afternoon trying to forget.”
Safi set her pillow upright in her lap, hugging it tight. “That makes two of us.”
“The fool!” Raven said, throwing up a hand. “I’d sneak into the boy’s barracks and beat him silly myself, if that Serk hadn’t already done so good a job.”
Not knowing what to say, Safi pressed her cheeks into the top of her pillow.
Raven thumbed her eyes and toughened her face, then ducked her head beneath the bunk frame. “He’s fine, ain’t he? I mean, those injuries didn’t look all that life-threatening.”
Safi hid her smile against her pillow. “Are you worried about him?”
Raven took a step backwards, then forwards again with a pointing, accusing finger. “Are you kidding me! I don’t give a damn what that boy does!” She let her hand flop to her side. “He annoys the hell out of me is all, and you can’t blame a girl for being curious.”
“That’s good.” Safi lowered her pillow and stared out the window, making a show of biting her lips. “Since Stiv’s injuries were worse than we thought.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, Stiv,” Raven said with a shudder. She lowered her head and pounded her fist against the bunk post. “Oh, Titans.”
“I’m only fooling.” Safi threw back her head and guffawed. “He’s sore all right, but nothing’s broken.”
Raven’s pale face contorted into a glare. “Why, you no good mud-skinned Southerling brat!” She raised her hands and bent her knees, to deliver upon her bunkmate a most assuredly deserved pinching.
Just in time, a long arm snagged the neckline of Raven’s burlap dress. “Profanity and violence?” Rebecca gave an intentional sort of sigh. “And you were so well-behaved during prayer.”
The anger drained from Raven’s face. She turned away from the girls and folded her arms.
“How was church?” Safi asked, easing away from the subject.
“You should have joined us, Safiyas. It was a wonderful service. Never would I have expected a true monsignor in a place like Camp Cronus!”
“Only the best for the warden's recruits,” chirped Raven.
“You watch your tongue,” Rebecca said. “Joke all you want, but I won’t forgive anyone who disrespects Holy Law. This is your soul we’re talking about.”
“You ain’t got to worry ‘bout me. My soul’s safe and sound.” Raven turned to grin at them. She crossed two fingers over her chest. “Thieves’ honour. I do solemnly swear on my feathery heart.”
Frowning, Rebecca noticed Safi’s hands. Her eyes went wide with fright. “Safiyas!” she pleaded. “You have to get rid of it at once!”
“What, this?” Safi said, holding up her Titan figurine.
Rebecca recoiled at the gesture. “Do you know what they’ll do if they find you with such a thing?”
Safi looked at her figurine, pouting. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s heresy,” Rebecca said seriously. “If the matron finds out, you’ll be in all sorts of trouble.”
Safi scratched her eyebrow. The who?
Raven snapped her arm towards Safi, a blurringly fast movement that left her hands bare and empty. “Look at me, I’m breaking the law!” Raven said, waving the tiny Titan in Rebecca’s direction.
