by Auryn Hadley
"Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome..." The door was almost closed behind her, but she heard his last word. "Kaisae."
Chapter 2
They entered Prin in full battle dress, their black armor cleaned, their horses shining in the sweltering summer sun. Citizens lined the street to see the notorious Black Blades. The stories of their victory in the Escean Pass had preceded them, having traveled as fast as only rumor can. Sal looked at the faces of the citizens she passed, wondering if the other rumors had spread as well. It surprised her how many slit eyes stared at their procession in shades of blues and greens. Beside her, her partner smiled, at ease in his home town.
"I grew up down tha' way, kitten" Cyno said, pointing down an alley as they passed.
Has it always been like this? Sal thought to him. Their mental link was one of the secrets she refused to share with General Sturmgren.
Wha'd'ya mean? he glanced over at her, confused.
Our kind, she said. We're everywhere.
Yeh. He nodded. Guttertown is mostly cross-breds. That does na mean they will like ya none, but, he shrugged, leaving the thought hanging.
Merriton's different, Sal thought. I've never been this far north.
Prin's like the mixing bowl of the Conglomerate, he told her. It's the best of all, and the worst.
A lot of slaves? she asked.
Na. Slaves are too expensive, 'specially with, Cyno glanced at the throng of iliran mongrels watching them, so many of us willin' ta work for so little. Only the rich have 'em.
Around them, pale-skinned women held potbellied children close, preventing them from running under the hooves of the war horses. Hard faced men, so many of them young, watched the Blades ride past, their eyes tracking them like Sal would a threat.
Think they heard? she asked.
Yeh, Cyno said, sadly. I think they heard, and they do na believe it.
Sal laughed, her response not what her partner expected. Wanna show them? She looked at him deviously.
His deep blue eyes met her white, and a smile spread across his lips. Sure.
Cyno sat back and turned Raven, pointing his mare at a dense spot of pale skinned viewers. Men pushed away, shrinking into the shadows, but one woman dared to look up and meet his eyes. With a smile, he moved closer, halting before her.
"Ya know 'a Inessi Cynortas?" he asked, his strange accent thick.
"Na," she told him, glaring.
"Dru grae Inessi Cynortas?" he tried again in Iliran.
She cocked her head at the sound of the language, but held her face still. When he refused to drop his gaze, she lifted her lip slightly. "What do ya want, Ace?"
He laughed at the slur. "Na, ya got me confused for some ape, kaisae. Was just lookin' fer my amma."
"Ain't no scrubber gonna sit a horse that nice."
Sal made her way to his side and calmly looked down at the woman, aware that she looked like nothing other than a purebred iliri. "No?" she asked, patting Arden's neck, then turned to Cyno. "Corporal, get what you need?"
"Yeh," he said, but Sal could smell the disappointment on him. "Do na think they got the news yet."
She nodded in understanding, then leaned over and looked at the defiant iliri before her. "Black Blades are all iliri. Every one of us, and we're the best military unit in the country. The damned humans can't stop us. And yeah, I ride a horse this nice."
"Yeh," Cyno said, chuckling, "I think that will do it."
"Who'd ya sleep with ta get there?" the woman asked, a growl barely audible in her throat.
Sal smiled. "An iliri. I killed a few humans to make the point."
Another woman pushed forward and, with awe in her voice, asked, "So it's true?"
"Very," Sal assured her. "And we're not fighting for them." She tapped the pin at her collar, a pair of crossed blades. "Anyone with this is one of ours."
"But will they do anything for us?" the first woman asked.
"Everything we possibly can. We won't let them rule us anymore." Then Sal turned to Cyno. "C'mon, Corporal, we've got things to do"
"Yes, Kaisae," he replied, smiling proudly, aware the women heard him.
They returned to the ranks with little more than a confused glance from Blaec. Sal shrugged at him then looked around subtly as they made their way through the city. The streets of Prin smelled of refuse and sewage, and the city seemed to be divided. The iliri and very poor lived on the southeast side, the wealthy humans in the far north. Businesses lined the larger streets and homes were built up rather than out. In the center of the sprawling city sat the Parliament building, the hub from which everything radiated. In its shadow lay the military base that was their destination.
Once at the compound, the Blades made themselves comfortable for the long weeks ahead. Except for the trials, the unit had no orders, so the Lieutenant gave them leave to come and go as they pleased, with the understanding that they keep their minds open.
Zep and Razor scouted the town, looking for the best pubs and bars. The men spent the next few days sharing war stories around a bottle, their nights flirting with women, the same as most soldiers. Their fame meant there was no shortage of attention for them, but they rarely went home with anyone. The whole thing felt like a vacation, the first one Sal had experienced in her life.
What shocked her the most was Zep. So obviously human, he found himself surrounded by well-bred women, their dark skin and hair showing their lack of iliran lineage. He refused every one. When she finally saw him slipping a date into his room, it was a pale blonde, the girl's slit eyes reminding Sal of her own.
Cyno, of course, kept to himself. He withdrew to his rooms, only venturing away from the compound to visit Guttertown, hoping to meet those he had known before. She often saw him sparring with the infantry soldiers, honing his skills and sharing tips with the men he fought. His freedom made her resent the pile of paperwork she faced each day.
With the politicians demanding every last second of Blaec's time, Sal and Arctic sorted through the stack of applications. They chose fifteen soldiers who might have a chance. Most were iliri, but a few humans had resumes impressive enough that the Blades were willing to consider them. It only took three days before all of the applicants had been notified and a date selected for the trials.
Working in a new base, they had to rearrange everything from housing to meeting areas. Some of their typical tests would also have to be adjusted. Never mind that the world finally knew they weren't just typical humans. But how would the soldiers react when they learned the Black Blades weren't like any other elite unit.
It was the end of the fifth day when she sat at Blaec's desk, scrawling notes before the recruits began to arrive. The door barely creaked as it opened but the scent of Blaec gave away her visitor.
"Sal? What are you doing?" he asked.
"Last minute checks." She looked up with a smile. "Trials start in the morning, love."
Reaching over her shoulder, he grabbed the pages and placed them on the far side. "I know. Stop worrying. If things get out of hand, we'll deal with it. If a recruit can't handle things falling apart around them, they shouldn't be a Black Blade."
She laughed, realizing he was right. "Ok, fair enough. I've just never done this before, ya know?"
"Mm," he said, kissing her neck. "I know. It looks good on you though. Leading."
"Looks better on you, sir." She leaned into his touch.
He shifted back just enough to brush her hair away from her face. "How do you want to handle this," he gestured between them, "with the recruits?"
"Shit," she muttered. "Yeah. Same as we do in combat?"
He looked at her, his head tilting slightly in the iliran sign of confusion.
Sal giggled and reached up to straighten his chin. "Proper protocols, but not hiding it? Chain of command stays intact, the subtle signs are there, but nothing that can get you court-martialed. Anyone that makes the Blades will figure it out before he's in black."
"He? Keep
ing out the competition?"
"No," Sal said sadly. "Only two women applied. Both human, neither with much combat experience, and neither had records that even hinted at hidden talent."
He nodded, tracing his finger down the thin skin of her ear. "I'm not surprised. Only about fifteen percent of the army is female right now, and maybe three percent of that has any visible iliran ancestry." He caught her eyes. "Now you know why I was so shocked to see your application."
"I guess so," Sal said. "Are there really so few of us?"
"Purebreds, or females?"
"Yeah." She meant both.
"Yes," Blaec told her, holding up his hand to indicate that he'd explain. "I think there's like five purebreds in the military. Last I heard, we had less than twenty-five in the country. Well, that we know about. Less now, thanks to Terric."
"What about the females?"
He squatted on the floor beside her chair and grabbed her knee. "I know you missed a lot of this growing up with humans," he said gently. "Only one in five children are girls. It's just the way of our kind. The more human breeding we have, the higher the rate of female offspring. Half-breeds tend to produce about one female in three children, so not too far off from humans."
"So, out of twenty-five iliri in the entire country, maybe five of them are female," she said, showing she understood.
"No," Blaec corrected. "Thing is," he looked away and sighed. "Humans. You forgot what humans do to us."
"Yeah."
"All the purebreds we know of are male, except you. It's pretty rare for a purebred iliri female to live past twenty."
"Are they trying to kill us?"
"I dunno, love. I really don't. Malnutrition, pregnancy, abuse... we don't do well in captivity." He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "I'm just glad you made it."
"Yeah, me too," she said, then laughed at the foolishness of her statement.
"Sal." Blaec's tone lost any hint of amusement. "You know they won't like this, right?"
"Parliament?"
He nodded. "Them, and the rest of the humans. We just painted a real big target on our backs, love. Don't trust anyone."
Sal looked up at him, her face serious. "Except our pack. I never have."
Chapter 3
The next morning, soldiers began showing up to check in for the Black Blades' recruitment trials. Sal leaned against the wall, one more drop of black, united in a pool of black. Each of them reclined in their parade armor, amused at the show. That feeling of being a part of something bigger made the Black Blades her home, her family.
As men in blue walked up, a Blade would break off, check his papers, and assign him a number. They coordinated it silently, speaking only in their minds. Outside the walls, Blaec waited on Scorch for the signal to make his grand entrance.
Sal watched a young man, not much more than a boy, slink toward them. His hair was so pale blonde it was nearly silver. His charcoal eyes glanced around, showing the slit pupil.
I got this one, guys, she sent.
She walked up to him, her hand out for his papers. Fumbling in his pocket, the boy handed them over. He had to look down to see into her iliri eyes, but dared to meet them with a smile.
"Zyrn Audgan?" she asked, reading his name from the papers.
"Yes, uh. Yes, Kai… ma'am," he stammered.
"It's sir. Every Blade is referred to as a sir."
"Yes, sir." This time, he sounded only marginally more confident.
She nodded, then continued, "You will be number 9. Please place your belongings there," she gestured to a row of numbers drawn on the ground in chalk, "and be at ease. The Lieutenant will be here shortly to give you orders."
When she handed the letter back to him, she was very careful to avoid physical contact. There was always the chance that touching could accidentally pull a recruit into their link like Arctic had done with her. The corner of her lip curled upwards as she returned to her group. Behind them, the numbers slowly filled as men hoping to become one of the most elite arrived for the recruitment trials.
Is it always like this? she asked.
Nah, Cyno said beside her. This part is, but we change it up as we go depending on what we see. But number 9 is a lucky number. Why'd ya give it ta him?
I have high hopes for that one. I was number 9, you know?
Yeh. Cyno laughed in her mind. I know. I'm the one that assigned it ta ya. Circus gave it ta me.
She smiled. Unknowingly she had passed on a tradition.
Once all the recruits were in their places, Arctic alerted their commander through the link. When Blaec acknowledged the summons, they called out in unison, "Attention!" making the two syllables into distinct words.
As scripted, the Lieutenant cantered through the front gates, making a dramatic halt. With a shift in his weight, he asked Scorch to paw the ground, then patted his neck affectionately before dismounting. Zep stood ready to take the stallion.
The Lieutenant's black resin armor soaked up the daylight, giving him the air of a walking shadow. At his back, a full quiver of arrows was accessible over his right shoulder, an impressive acrylic sword over the left, and a jakentron was strapped to his leg, turning him into a walking arsenal. Blaec unfastened his helm and slipped it off, revealing perfectly chestnut hair, the coloration so close to human, but not quite. His green eyes looked over each soldier before him. The Blades nodded properly when his eyes passed, but the applicants seemed to retreat under his pale stare.
"Welcome, applicants," he said in a gentle voice. "I know that all of you are excited to show your strengths and prove that you are made for the Black Blades. I want to make it clear that I do not owe any of you a position in my outfit. Each of you was selected because I hope to find two soldiers who will be what we need, but I have refused entire groups before, and I'm not afraid to do it again. A weak link is more likely to kill us than help us. None of you is guaranteed a position."
As he spoke, LT walked through the ranks, letting his attention linger on each recruit. "When you're released, the first row will report to Zep, the second to Razor, and the last to Shift." Blaec gestured at each man as he named them. "Each officer will assign barracks for the duration of our trials and a time for me to speak with each of you privately. You may be at ease."
He turned and retrieved his horse, leading the animal away, and Sal stepped forward, her eyes challenging each of them. She knew what she was about to say would only make things harder for them, but the Blades were done hiding.
"You have all served in the CFC military for a minimum of two years," she said, "many of you for longer, but the Black Blades is not the Conglomerate Army. For those of you wondering why I am speaking to you – me, an iliri woman – well, if you want to pass these trials, I suggest you get used to it. I am Sergeant Salryc Luxx, and I am the Second Officer of the Black Blades. If you cannot take orders from me, you may as well leave now. If you think you are better than me because you have darker skin or your pupils aren't quite as narrow, you are welcome to resign from the trials."
Sal paused, looking at the eyes of each man before her. The boy at number 9 stood with his head up, but the small lines around his eyes betrayed his relief. The man standing on number 14 cursed softly, then grabbed his things. Sal pointed toward Arctic and he nodded. One down. A flare of resentment hit her, but she smothered it. The best unit in the military, and the fool hated her enough to walk away. He was the only one his decision would hurt.
She turned to the rest. "The Black Blades are proud to boast the highest combat rating of any outfit in this nation. We also have the largest percentage of iliri ancestry of any elite operations unit. Yes, the rumors you have heard are true. We are iliri, and we will not hide it." She paused, smiling proudly, her two sets of pointed canines making her look feral.
"If you are still interested in proving your worth, please place your baggage in the crate corresponding to the number you are standing on. We will have your luggage moved to the recruit barracks. Afterward, make your
way to the stables post-haste. Dismissed!"
The recruits began to move, rushing toward the side in their haste to be the first to their new location. Audgan took his time, unwilling to push through the crowd before him. Another man, this one with sooty hair, watched her carefully. When his eyes met hers, he held her gaze for a second, then glanced away respectfully. As the crowd thinned, he set his bag in a bin and walked directly toward her.
"Laetus, Kaisae," he said respectfully, looking at the ground before turning and walking away.
Much respect ta the mistress of the pack, Cyno translated. It's proper to show respect to the dominant female of the family. To na, when ya know, is considered a slight. He was raised as one a us.
Is it always so easy? Sal asked. To find the next Black Blade, I mean. Do they always stand out so plainly on the first day?
You did, Arctic told her. We saw you walking up nearly a block away.
And yet we have trials. Why even bother?
Razor glanced at Sal. Because some are the exception, kinda like me. Never know what you'll find in a mixed group like this, unless you look.
Zep huffed under his breath. And to keep military command happy. Gotta make them think we're obeying their rules, ya know.
Sal nodded in understanding. Ok, that makes a lot more sense.
Zep, Razor, and Shift broke off to meet their recruits and set their appointments. With tensions high and so many men wanting to prove their combat ability, fights weren't uncommon, so Risk and Cyno had been assigned to keeping order. Sal cocked her head at Arctic, and together they made their way to their office. Blaec was tacking down Scorch and would meet them before the recruits were even settled. The pair were lounging behind the simple desk when Blaec walked in, grinning.
"So, we wanna scare the piss out of these boys, or set them at ease?" he asked.
