by Jeff Gunzel
Viola deflected the clumsy strikes as her mind raced, searching for some way to end this without bloodshed. Awkward, but with his full weight being thrown behind each swing, she had to be mindful of the danger posed by the unskilled but utterly desperate man. The adrenaline dump beginning to play out, she heard his wheezing breath with each wild but slowing swing. She could take him out at any time, but still remained purely defensive in her tactics. There has to be another way! Think!
Eyes wild with fear, arms numbing as the burn of fatigue set in, the little man charged her with his head down. Caught off guard by the surprise maneuver, Viola stumbled backward, unable to avoid the straight charge. He tackled her at the waist, planting her on her back. As the back of her head thumped against the packed sand, her legs fired up to wrap around his hips. Thatra had taught her some ground fighting. She knew to use her legs to control his body while moving her head to avoid his weapon. This was a dangerous spot to be in, and it was all due to her failing to end it when she’d had the chance.
But holding his wrist with one hand, nearly eye to eye with the man, he just gazed down at her with a blank expression. Feeling a warm wetness coating her hands, she released the blade she had all but forgotten about. The sword pommel stayed in place, its blade lodged deep in the man’s gut. With a final breath his eyes crossed, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
She rolled, pushing the corpse aside before retching in the sand. Her stomach heaved again and again until every drop of bile had been emptied, and then heaved some more. All seemed to go quiet around her. The fighting had ended and she didn’t even know who was still standing. She spared a glance towards a pair of feet dragging past her blurred vision. They were taking the bodies away. She didn’t look up. She just didn’t want to know. None of that mattered to her right now.
I killed a man. I killed a man! Impossibly, her stomach heaved anew and she retched again for what seemed like the hundredth time. She swore her insides must have been coming out. “Get her back on her feet!” Ozryn ordered. “Your day is not finished yet. That is, for half of you anyway.” Hands cradling her head, refusing to look up, Viola could hear the fading sounds of bodies being dragged away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the one next to her move slightly. She jumped, eyes going right to the corpse she was responsible for. His legs rose as the soldier pulled, his head turning towards her with wide-open eyes. Accusing eyes judged her for what she had done as he was dragged away.
“Viola?” A hand touching the back of her shoulder made her jerk back the other way. Salina dropped to one knee, tilting her head sideways to look Viola in her eyes. Her hands were bloody and there were blood splashes on her white tunic. It was unclear as to how much, if any, was her own. But she was alive, so she must have been victorious. “Viola, you need to get up. This is not a patient man we are dealing with. You must steel yourself.”
“But I—” Viola choked on her own words, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I know,” Salina replied, her voice soft and reassuring. “I promise you there will be time to mourn, but for now you must get back to your feet and push on. You must put it out of your mind.” Salina glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Later. You must mourn later,” she repeated with a bit more urgency. Wiping tears on the back of her hand, Viola nodded and rose to her feet.
“I have no time for your blubbering,” Ozryn barked at her. “Now fall back into line, and be grateful that pale body of yours is still breathing.” Kuuma watched from above, a sleepy-eyed, nearly bored look on his face. How could a person be so detached from death? This barbaric event was no more than a formality to him. He wanted the top five, and the rest could be discarded. A cold-hearted, businesslike perspective. But undeniably efficient.
“I’ve got you,” Salina whispered, helping Viola along with one arm draped around the back of her neck.
“Why?”
“Hush now. It’s all over with.”
“Why?” Viola squeaked a second time before realizing she was standing in line on her own. A young-looking boy, no older than twelve, came running from the tunnel with an armful of wooden sparring swords. He handed one to each person. With hardly any acknowledgement of the chilling evil that had just transpired, their training was already moving forward.
“And then there were five,” Ozryn said, chuckling to himself. Viola could hardly stand, her trembling hands clutching the wooden blade as she leaned on it like a crutch. She would almost certainly be back on the ground without it. “Now that we have weeded out the weaklings, I can finally get down to training those who actually deserve to be here.”
“What was the point of that?” asked the warrior, shrugging at his own question. Stabbing a man in the back of the neck didn’t bother him one bit. He had done it before and was certain he would do it again. But he was genuinely curious. Why go through the trouble of bringing all of them here, knowing there would only be five within a day?
“What was the point indeed,” Ozryn replied, arms folded as he moved closer to the warrior. “I know a veteran when I see one. Tell me, have you ever watched a novice soldier take to the battlefield for the first time? And I mean painfully trained, one who has worked so hard that his sword, bow, or any weapon he so chooses has practically become an extension of his own body.” The warrior didn’t reply, but the gleam of recognition in his eyes spoke volumes.
“It’s quite a sight, is it not?” Ozryn continued, now speaking more to the others than to the warrior. “A paralyzing terror grips his heart as the screams of the dying penetrate his skull deeper than any arrow ever could. Skills that should have been second nature flee from his mind, leaving him a quivering coward who has forgotten all his training. But there is a method to the madness, a solution that can right his ailing mind and turn our warrior back into the tool of violence he was bred to be. That first kill is a remedy like no other.” His eyes flickered towards Viola, but she was completely oblivious to it all. Lost in her own mind, his words were but a distant muttering.
“It’s what permanently changes a man and sets his mind right to do what needs to be done.” Again, Ozryn’s eyes flickered down the line at the shaken expressions staring down at the sand. “Well, I say why wait for that moment? For a few of you, today’s test was nothing. To others, you will never be the same. Believe me, it was better to get that fist kill out of the way here and now, within a controlled environment. No longer can any of you claim innocence. You’re all killers... There is nothing holding you back. So now that your hands are already stained with blood, your real training can begin.”
You’re all killers... You’re all killers... You’re all killers...
Possibly the only words Viola heard from his speech rattled around in her mind. Already Ozryn had pulled one of the men from the line, and was demonstrating some basic sword work. You’re all killers... Like a dream, the scene before her was hazy, unfocused, the two working their weapons in slow motion as Ozryn barked out instructions. You’re all killers... It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real. You’re all killers... Ozryn was right, there was no going back from this. She would never be the same.
*
Holding a beanbag pillow against her chest, Viola lay on the hard wood plank that served as a bed, staring up at the ceiling. Jagged cracks in the stone ran parallel to each other, their deep darkness giving the illusion that through them she was seeing the sky above. When she stared at the black lines long enough, her imagination began to play tricks. Shadowy fingers crept down through the darkness, probing around the ceiling in search of something. But a blink of her eyes sent them away, vanished, like the distorted illusions they were.
Glancing down at her bruised hand, she flexed her fingers. Reddened welts striped the back of her wrist, as well as a fair amount of her forearm. She knew Ozryn had cracked her with a switch each time she made a mistake during today’s sparring, but in truth, she could hardly remember the ordeal. The whole day’s events were a haze, some distant memory that was
difficult to recall. Who had survived? For the life of her, she still could not picture any of their faces.
A light slap of the side wall drew her attention. She looked up to see Salina’s face peeking in. “May I come in?” she asked, eyebrows raised with a hopeful expression. When Viola didn’t answer, she cleared her throat and slunk over to sit on her bed. “There are only five of us now. If you don’t want me here, I can just move over to the next room. It’s no trouble if—”
“I don’t want to be alone!” said Viola, swinging her legs over the side and sitting upright. She could see Salina clearly, those dark eyes webbed with wrinkles. The day’s events had blurred together into a single, incoherent thought. A vile combination of horror and sadness. But just this once she could actually see the person speaking to her. Those kind eyes served as a sort of anchor, keeping her mind grounded, preventing her from swirling into madness. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, or any other night.”
Salina smiled, lowering her eyes to the floor. “All right then. I would be happy to stay here with you. In a place like this, we could all use some company, I suppose.”
“You knew.”
“What?” She looked up at Viola’s red-eyed gaze. Unblinking, hands on her knees, her stare was not one of anger. Anger was emotion, and emotion was not what she saw in those eyes. Cold, emotionless, the eyes of a girl who had just lost part of her soul.
“This morning, you knew what was about to happen, so you refused to work with me. How did you know?”
Salina’s gaze circled the room, as if searching for some sort of inspiration. Eventually, she looked back at Viola’s bruised wrist. “How is your hand?” she asked, changing the subject.
Viola looked down and flexed her fingers. Her grip was a little tight, but that seemed rather unimportant to her right now. “It’s fine,” she answered softly. “I don’t really remember how it happened.”
“Viola, answer me truthfully. Today was the first time you ever took a life, wasn’t it?” Viola’s eyes snapped up at the blunt question. Her bottom lip began to quiver as emotion swelled up inside her. Her numbness throughout the day had been nothing more than her mind trying to forget what she had done, trying to block out all reality for as long as she could. Suddenly, she could see his face clear as day, his accusing eyes glassy and lifeless as he was dragged away. “Viola, are you all right?”
“No. No I’m not,” she squeaked, tears flowing as she began to cry. The numbness had masked the pain, but it had worn off now. She could feel it all, and it hurt so bad she wasn’t sure she even wanted to live. Salina hopped over from her bed and sat next to her. Pulling Viola’s head to her chest, she held her close.
Now bawling intensely, all Viola’s built-up emotion flooded out in a painful rush. “I don’t want to be here! I want to go home!”
“I know, dear. I know,” Salina whispered.
Home? I don’t even know what that means anymore...
Chapter 5
Stirring beneath her many layers of thick blankets, Bella was finally breaking from her long, heavy sleep. Slowly, her senses were returning. Half awake, half asleep, her mind struggled between focusing on the comfort of a plush bed and the danger of not knowing where she was. Dulled instincts called out in alarm, yet her fatigued body still refused to move. I’ll just sleep a little longer. These blankets are so warm. I’ll just stay here a little while longer before— Here. Here? Where is here? Where am I?!
Alarmed, confused, she sat up with a jolt as her warm blankets fell away. But when the chill in the air hit her, she nearly pulled them back up. Despite the cold, the room she was in had a comfortable feel to it. There was a bookshelf in the corner filled with well-kept books, and a table with two hand-carved oak chairs at either end. The walls were clean and painted a dark blue. But what caught her eye, and nose, was the steaming silver tray of food at the foot of the bed. Still hot, it couldn’t have been there that long. What looked like strips of roast mutton, surrounded by roasted carrots and potatoes, was practically calling to her. Her mouth watered at the sight. It was all she could do not to rush the tray and inhale every morsel. No... I need to figure out where I am.
“Ah, good, I see you are awake.” With a start, she turned to the man standing in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. “Your Highness,” he added, bowing his head respectfully. His reddish-brown beard was trim and well kept, its color matching the thick helmet of hair on his head. His fine robe was dark blue with slashes of white across the chest and sleeves, and his black sandals were little more than leather wrappings hugging his feet.
“Who are you? Why am I here? I demand that you—” Bella stopped in midsentence, certain she was probably making a fool of herself. She was in no position to be demanding anything. Those days were long gone. She was no one now, a commoner at best. Not even a commoner. Right now she was obviously a prisoner.
“You have nothing to fear, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing his head a second time. “My name is Ghatrie. As for why you are here.” He pointed towards her with his chin. Following his gaze, she looked down at her own arms covered with tiny bumps. Lifting her other arm before glancing at her legs, she could see that the stings were everywhere. The hunger, the bees, it was all coming back to her now. Mostly healed, it was clear they been treated. “I assumed you would prefer life over death. Was I wrong in this assumption? Should we have left you to die?”
She dropped her arms and looked up at him. “You’re the one who saved me?”
“I did as I was told,” he said as he shrugged. His eyes flickered towards the silver tray, then back at her. “Are you not hungry? You’ve been through quite an ordeal. I would imagine you are starving.” She wiped the back of her hand across her watering mouth, but still made no move towards the food. “Oh, I see. Perhaps we are trying to poison you? Is that it? Well then, let’s just see what we have here.” He picked up a strip of meat and slowly, tauntingly, tipped his head back and lowered it into his mouth. After doing the same with a roasted carrot, he glanced back at her with his mouth half full. “I’ll eat it all if you wish, but I’ve often found that dinning with company is much more appealing. Don’t you agree?”
Unbearable hunger hastening her decision, she scrambled across the bed on all fours and snatched a piece of meat. Perfectly spiced, it melted in her mouth like butter. Even if she hadn’t been starving, the food would have been fit for royalty. But she was starving, and all sense of etiquette had vanished from her thoughts. Ignoring the utensils laid out on the side of the platter, she grabbed another two strips of meat with one hand and a fistful of vegetables in the other.
Gorging like an animal, she had all but forgotten that Ghatrie was still standing there. When she glanced up, mouth stuffed with juices dripping off her face and from between her fingers, he just smiled down at her, acting as if watching a queen shovel food down her throat was quite normal. Embarrassed, humiliated at how far she had fallen, she pushed the tray away and broke down sobbing.
“What has happened to me?” she cried. “How did it all go so wrong? My life has become one living nightmare after another.”
“And yet...you are still alive,” said Ghatrie. His youthful blue eyes watched her intently. “Do not forget that. Death is the only true end to the journey of life, and I have a feeling that your journey has only just begun. Each breath you draw from this day forward must be a reminder of your second chance. I ask only that you remember that, Your Highness.”
“Please stop calling me that,” she said breathlessly. She was tired, so very tired. “That title belonged to another person in another life. It means nothing to me now.” He nodded, then picked up the tray and moved it to the table. After setting out two plates and filling two goblets from a nearby pitcher, he rounded the front of the table and pulled back a seat.
“Then the two of us shall dine together as equals,” he said, gesturing down to the chair. She moved over to the table, accepting the offered seat and allowing him to push her in. For al
l she knew, this was the part where he poisoned her, or drugged her at the very least. It no longer mattered. Nothing mattered. Determined to go out with dignity, she snatched the goblet in front of her and attempted to drain it one swallow, poison and all. She would not show weakness or fear in her final moments. Expecting the clear liquid to be water, its sweetness surprised her, causing her to cough.
“Pear nectar. Do you like it?” he asked, sipping on his own to prove once again that there was no poison.
“It’s good,” she said softly. Prepared to meet her end only seconds before, she was surprised to feel relieved that she hadn’t. Perhaps there was still some fight left in her after all. “So then, am I your captive?” she asked bluntly, setting down the goblet.
“No,” came his disinterested answer as he proceeded to fill both plates from the tray. “You may leave whenever you like, but only after you’ve regained your strength.” He placed a generously full plate in front of her, then took his seat beside her with the other. “And only after you’ve spoken to the Moon Mistress.”
Still plenty hungry, she tried not to seem too eager as she carved at the food. “And who is this Moon Mistress you speak of?” When he shifted his head, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. Tiny golden scales overlapped the lower portion of his neck like some sort of skin disease. As they were mostly covered by the robe, she only caught a glimpse.
“She is the one who will answer all your questions,” he replied. “Know that I am just her humble servant. Once you are finished eating, and hopefully feeling better, I will bring you to see her. Those are my orders.”
“So I’m her captive,” Bella reasoned.
“No,” he repeated, sounding irritated for the first time. “I admit my ignorance when it comes to the ways of humans. But from the few encounters I’ve had, I can freely say that I find your endless distrust of all species, including your own...tiresome and boring. I’ve already told you you are not a captive. I said you would be free to go if you so choose after you’ve spoken to the Moon Mistress. Nothing has changed.”
