by Guy Estes
Having given his decree, Dirke hefted his staff and wound up for a mighty blow that would leave his enemy splattered about the schoolyard like his mother’s fruit preserves. This gave Aleena more than adequate warning, and she responded by shooting the end of her staff into his belly. He doubled over with an explosive “oof” and each end of her staff struck each side of his head with two satisfying cracks. Dirke was laid out in the dust, both arms wrapped around his head and legs drawn up, wailing. He did not even notice Aleena’s final act. After putting her enemy down, Aleena’s instincts and rage told her to slay her enemy. The end of her staff was shooting down to smash Dirke’s skull when Aleena got enough control over her gift to divert the staff’s path. Its end thudded into the ground a hair’s breadth from Dirke’s skull.
Headmistress Rita bustled out and got Aleena by the scruff of her neck, then hurried her through the entrance and onto campus. All the buildings were made of blue stone veined with gold, in addition to gold knotwork designs that decorated the buildings’ trims. The main learning halls were arranged in a square and formed the perimeter of the campus. A collection of other stone buildings sat in the center of the square. These were the administrative and instructors’ chambers. Headmistress led Aleena across the open lawn into the administrative buildings, and then into her chambers, making certain the door was shut behind them. Madigan was also there, for he, too, was an instructor at the academy, and his chambers were adjacent to Rita’s. He watched them come in, his expression slightly bemused. Like Dirke, neither he nor Rita had seen Aleena nearly kill the boy.
“Now, Lady Kurrin, would you be so good as to tell me why you brained your classmate?”
“He mocked me for coming to school. He said I should put straw on my staff so I could sweep his schoolyard. Then he moved to strike me.”
“Did he, now? His schoolyard?”
Rita took a deep breath. She told herself not to look upon Dirke as a trouble-making bully but as a challenge to her teaching ability. She wished herself much luck on this.
“Aleena,” she said while grabbing the girl’s shoulders and looking her in the eye, “I shall ask you only once. Who threw the first blow?”
“He did, Mistress. I swear it.”
Rita released her and sat back.
“If you speak truly, girl, all will be well. Just remember one thing: you may strike only when you are about to be stricken. Understood?”
Aleena nodded. Rita continued, her stern expression laced with amusement. If no one else could put Dirke in his place Aleena certainly could!
“Aleena, you are a member of a very select group. You are one of the Chosen. From the day you could walk you have been teaching yourself the noble art of combat. This is the gift Tamura and Donya have bestowed upon you, but the gods did not grant you this gift so that you could waste it on yapping dogs like Dirke. They are beneath it.”
“Mistress, what does it mean to be Chosen?”
Rita paused. “Has no one discussed this with you?”
“No.”
“Madigan,” Rita addressed him dryly, “I may need your help in this.”
Madigan smiled as he looked down at Aleena and gave her a wink.
“The Chosen,” Rita began, “are people born with two gifts. Their major gift is something they are absolute masters of, their inherent skill coming to them as naturally as breathing. They need no instruction in it. Their minor gift is something they have a strong natural aptitude for, but they require instruction to realize their full potential. The Chosen are seldom born, for it would not do for Tamura and Donya to bestow their blessings on the world too often, lest they go from being divine favor to commonplace.”
“Those who are Chosen are chosen by the gods?”
“That is one belief. However, being one of them you need to know everything. Some whisper that the Chosen are not blessed by Tamura and Donya at all, but that they are creatures of evil. The extraordinary skill of the Chosen, they believe, simply isn’t natural. In addition to uncanny skill, the Chosen are remarkably beautiful and have eternal youth. Even if you live to be a hundred you will never look a day older than thirty. Moreover, your beauty will be immune to destruction. Scars will completely fade. Some people see the combination of eternal beauty with unnatural skill as proof that the Chosen are demonic. They believe that, rather than sending the Chosen, the gods protect humanity from them by making them rare, as if they were such an aberration that even the gods couldn’t always stop them from being born.”
“So which one are they?”
“That, I believe, is entirely up to the individual Chosen.”
The little girl pondered this, then asked, “But why do the Chosen live at all? Why are they so different?”
“Presumably Tamura and Donya place them here for a purpose, though what that purpose is would, I imagine, vary from one individual to the next. Anything more specific than that is impossible to say. They are so rare no one has been able to discern their nature. As for why they are rewarded with physical perfection, none are sure about that, either. My guess is that it is to compensate for lives that are often quite worrisome. A master of a calling is continually challenged. Those who admire her will place constant demands on her. Those who despise her will constantly plot against her. Given their talent and immunity to age, the Chosen are often required to run the gauntlet of human shortcomings at greater intensity and for longer periods of time than other mortals.”
“How do we know I am Chosen?”
Madigan answered this one, telling her the details of her birth.
“There is no doubt you are Chosen,” he finished. “And as your natural skill at combat – you, a mere child – equals that of our most experienced warriors, I think we can safely conclude what your major gift is.”
“And I will have to face all of this?”
“Yes,” Rita nodded, “but fear not, Aleena. The gods do not give us tests we cannot pass. What does it mean to be Chosen? That, my child, is a question you will spend your whole life answering. And we will help you as best we are able.”
Afterward, all of the first time students were gathered in the courtyard to be welcomed by the faculty and told what would be expected of them. Dirke made sure he sat nowhere near Aleena. All of the students came forward to find out what class they were in while the teachers came to find their students. Aleena found hers. Naturally, it was the same class as Dirke.
“Does he have to be in our class?” Aleena said to the girl next to her, hoping to win an ally. The girl, who had dark hair and eyes and tan skin, merely looked at her. Aleena tried again.
“What’s your name?”
“Valkira.”
“I’m Aleena.”
Valkira looked disgusted.
“My mama said I don’t have to talk to you because your mother lies with demons!”
Valkira flounced away, all the while pointing back at Aleena and jeering, “Her mother lies with demons! Her mother lies with demons!”
Aleena could only sit there in open mouthed shock, her six year old mind incapable of comprehending what had just happened. While she was trying to process the mystery of unprovoked hatred, two other girls sat next to her.
“Valkira’s a pudding head,” one of them told Aleena. She had black hair and blue eyes. “My name is Shannon.
“And I’m Gwendolyn,” said the other. She had brown eyes and hair of copper curls and very white skin.
“My name’s Aleena.”
Gwendolyn, Shannon and Aleena stayed by each other throughout their childhoods. Their fellowship armored them through the challenges of school, Dirke and Valkira and growing up.
CHAPTER 3
Aleena had an inquisitive mind, thirsting and drawn to knowledge. She did well in all subjects save math. She was particularly drawn to stories. As her teachers began to teach the students to read, Aleena raced on ahead of them, reading the entire book when only a chapter was required. No longer did she have to
depend on another to leave this world populated with children like Dirke and Valkira and enter one of epic heroes and thrilling quests. Once she could read she had the key to unlock those worlds herself. She would stay up past her bed time, reading by the radiance of a light stone. Not only did she love reading stories, she wrote good ones, as well. She also did well in music, leading Rita and Madigan to suspect her minor gift was that of bard.
Forever balancing the love her teachers had for her was the hatred Dirke, Valkira and their friends had for her, hatred Aleena found to be completely incomprehensible. If they hated her so much, why waste such effort on her? Aleena hated them, too, but she generally preferred to avoid things she hated. Therefore, she left them alone. Wasn’t that simple common sense? Yet her enemies did the very opposite – they sought out the ones they hated.
By the time she had fifteen winters behind her she topped out at a gangly six feet, towering over even the boys. Dirke, as usual, had not learned his lesson and continually harassed her about her gaunt frame. He would look at Aleena and shake his head, his loathing sculpting his face into that burning contempt only adolescent boys can express.
“Gods, Aleena, why are you so godsdamned stupid?” he’d sometimes ask, his voice poisonous with scorn, lips curled in revulsion. The sudden random nature of running into such pointless hate was like stepping out into the sunshine and being impaled on a spear. Even after years of dealing with him, Aleena was surprised to see how much his words still hurt.
It was the same with Valkira. It seemed to Aleena that one day Valkira was a girl, just like her. The next day she was a grown woman, with all of the physical attributes. She had been a nerve-racking brat as a small child. Now, as a beautiful young woman, she was insufferable. Aleena, tall and gawky, avoided contact with Valkira whenever possible, but sometimes she was forced to deal with her.
“Headmistress Rita wanted to speak with you about something,” Aleena told her once, carrying Rita’s message to her. Valkira, backed by her friends, looked at Aleena as if she was a court jester, malicious amusement lighting her face and lifting her brow. She started to laugh, a stumbling girlish chuckle accelerating into a maddening titter. Her friends joined her. It was always the same on those few occasions when Aleena had to address her, and many times when Aleena simply walked into the room.
Why bother to hate someone you don’t even know? Don’t they have better things to do? They’ve assured me that I’m quite worthless, but if that’s true why do they devote so much effort to me? What possible interest can one, quiet girl be to anyone?
She mentioned her troubles to Ulfberht, the dwarf who had been her father’s teacher, when he was on one of his periodic visits.
“Ah, don’t let them bother you, lassie,” Ulfberht advised her with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“I try not to, Uncle Ulfberht,” she said, addressing him by the title she’d applied to him since she was little, even though they weren’t kin. “But it’s not so easy as all that.”
“No,” he acknowledged after a moment, his blue eyes gazing up at her from a craggy face. He had a heavy brow and a bulbous nose. His hair and beard were still mostly brown, but the grey hairs were gradually replacing the brown ones. “I suppose it isn’t.”
They were quiet for a while before Ulfberht spoke again.
“Yer knowin’ how steel is cleansed. Ye’d better. Yer Ivarr’s daughter, for gods’ sake.”
She nodded.
“It’s heated and hammered and folded over and over again,” she told him.
“Aye, it is,” he said, nodding. “And spirit is strengthened and cleansed much the same way. Take heart, lassie. One day ye’ll be done with these fools and be free to go onto better things.”
Ulfberht’s words were of some comfort, but Aleena still had to run the gauntlet of hate every day. Her antagonists made so little sense to her it was like they were another species. She said so to Madigan one day.
“I don’t understand why they act like that,” she said, trying – and failing – to keep the tremor from her voice.
“Because they fear you.”
Aleena looked at him, frowning with incomprehension.
“What? Fear me? Don’t be daft. I have never harmed Valkira. I wouldn’t have harmed Dirke, either, if he’d left me alone. What did I ever do to them?”
“Nothing, but that’s not the point. The point is, Aleena, you’re different, so very different from them. You’re every bit as incomprehensible to them as they are to you. People naturally fear what they don’t understand, and they naturally hate what they fear.”
“I don’t understand them, either, but I leave them in peace.” She paused and gave a slight, defiant toss of her head. “Nor do I fear them.”
“Your comfort with your solitude, your silent ways, all of those simply magnify their incomprehension and hate. By functioning without their approval, you demonstrate you don’t need them, an unforgivable offense to people who base their entire worth on social standing. But let us not deceive ourselves, Aleena. You do fear them, don’t you?”
Aleena flashed angry eyes at him, then cast her gaze to the ground.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“More specifically, you fear their hate, their scorn… their rejection. Though your pride rebels at the thought.”
“Yes,” she growled.
Madigan smiled and chuckled quietly. “Don’t care for the idea that you’re as human as anyone else?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like such a foolish thing to fear.”
“Perhaps it is,” he said with a shrug, “but it is also a very human fear. Their fear for you, however, is more primal. Aleena, if you ever got the urge, you could walk out there and slaughter the whole lot of them. And they know it, whether they admit it or not. You’ve held yourself in check, but they’ve seen your eyes when you’ve fought Dirke. They’ve an idea of the power that lurks within you. Their taunting you is their way of trying to assure themselves they really aren’t afraid.”
Madigan’s explanation made sense to her mind, but her heart was still utterly confused. Still, the fact that her classmates chastised her for being herself did not stop her from following her natural impulses.
“Leave me alone,” a small, pale boy wailed at Dirke.
“Why should I, you sniveling pup?” Dirke roared. “You make me sick! You deserve to be beaten, you spineless fop!”
Dirke was shoving him as he yelled at him and the boy fell, Dirke’s face bearing the driving determination to make the boy as miserable as possible, the sight of which immediately ignited flaming outrage in Aleena’s heart. Without even thinking about it, she went over to them, grabbed Dirke’s arm that was cocked back and put him face first into the grass.
“Before preying on weaker folk, Dirke, you must first prey on me.”
It took a few moments for Aleena’s conscious thoughts to catch up with her body, which seemed to have acted entirely on its own accord. The other students stood and watched. The look on Aleena’s face was chilling. Her storm cloud eyes were like those of a tigress with a rat pinned under her paw. She felt her lips curling into a smile. She knew smiling was wholly inappropriate and she tried to stop, but her face wouldn’t listen. The corners of her mouth kept sliding up while her eyes gleamed brighter, giving her face an expression of barely restrained mania. She remembered what Madigan had said about the others fearing her.
Let them, some part of her gloated.
Dirke tried to wriggle free from the lock Aleena had him in, but she merely tightened her hold. He squealed. She let him experience a few more moments of humiliation before letting him up. He got up and swung. She blocked and punched him in the gut, dropping him back to the ground, groaning. She spent the moment fighting the instinct to finish him off. Defeating her opponent satisfied a deep, primal urge within her. The control required to deny her gift its demands was comparable to the control required to stop lovemaking right on the threshold of e
cstasy.
As a result of that day, though, the other late bloomers tended to gravitate towards her. Aleena was of two minds about them; she felt the need to defend them, yet she was slightly disgusted with herself for seeing Dirke’s point. Their slouched bodies, frightened faces and subdued voices all but invited scorn. They might as well have “easy prey” tattooed on their foreheads. There were times when Aleena just wanted to shake them and say, “For gods’ sake, could you have some pride? Could you at least pretend to have some dignity?”
Still, though they annoyed her, Aleena protected them. The last thing she wanted was to be like those she despised and kick the downtrodden, she knew what it was to be an outcast and she was naturally inclined to defend the defenseless.
Aleena had hardly turned sixteen and donned the black tunic of provost when she met Cormac. Gwendolyn and Shannon, Aleena’s only friends in school, had left Sharleah when their parents discovered they could make a better living in a different province. Then Cormac arrived. It was the noon meal. She wasn’t watching where she was going and bumped into him, spilling both their lunches. The surrounding students laughed. She looked at him for the first time and saw this new student, an adorable young buck, looking back at her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, flustered, turning her face down and away. She immediately began trying to clean him up, wiping the mess from his shirt front. She grabbed his hand and was cleaning it when he said, “I’m not.”
She returned her gaze to his face and saw a merry twinkle in his gorgeous green eyes.
“You’re not?” she finally managed. His smile got wider and his eyes brighter under his tousled brown hair.
“Not a bit. It got you to hold my hand!”
Her mind took a moment to process what he’d said. He wasn’t angry with her. He wasn’t making fun. He was genuinely pleased. She wasn’t accustomed to her classmates being pleased with her. Aleena felt her heart glow as she smiled back hesitantly, fearful that any sudden move would shatter the moment.
To her soaring joy, Cormac was placed in her class. They ate lunch together every day, stole looks and giggles at each other in class, and held hands as they walked home. She wrote poems and songs about him. Aleena spent every spare moment with Cormac. One day they stopped by the river on the walk home. They said nothing as they stared into each other’s eyes. Then Cormac kissed her, introducing her to a whole new world of intoxicating sensation that suddenly exploded into being, the unprecedented passion, the daring of setting off in a new world of emotion, the unquenchable thirst. As the weeks passed, Aleena felt like she was on a raft on an accelerating current, heady and surging. Soon after, she bestowed her maidenhood upon him. The midwives had assured her at her first bloodmoon that she was barren. Therefore, she had no fear of childbearing.
