by Amanda Daul
“Then what do you want?” Arissa felt like she had already asked the question too many times. She was already having a hard enough time keeping awake, she would be lucky if she remembered any of this in the morning.
Trax grinned. “As I already stated, I want to know you. It only makes sense to become more acquainted with each other, no? Whether you like it or not, and it’s quite clear that you don’t, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until the end of this war. I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re trying to think of a way to have me simply removed from your path, because you think that will make it easier on yourself. I can tell you right here and now that you’re only wasting your time. As much as you hate to let yourself even think the words...you need me, darling. You need me and you know it. Don’t correct me if I’m wrong, because the notion is somewhat amusing to me, I’ll admit, but if I’m not mistaken, that’s the reason you feel the need to keep me out of every move you make. You simply can’t stand the thought of somebody else making decisions with you, rather than because of you. Again, the amount of my personal knowledge about you is limited, but I would bet my last bottle of rum on the fact that you’ve never had anyone willingly work beside you, ready to share the responsibility of your actions and decisions. Everything I’ve witnessed from you, love, has been simply all or nothing. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that an attitude like that is not going to sail in situations like this. You need somebody who is just as equally valiant and stubborn as your own lovely self, Arissa. I do believe that is where I come in and that, my dear, is why you need me.”
Arissa remained still, utterly shocked by his words. She didn’t know whether she should be angry that he would make any of those assumptions about her or terrified because he was right about all of them. His words all played back in her mind, his voice echoing from every corner of her memory. Whether she should be upset or not still hadn’t occurred to her, she felt shell-shocked, unable to react.
Before she even had time to respond or even gather and clear her thoughts, Trax sat far ahead in his chair, leaning as closely to Arissa as possible. Something unreal, resembling passion and desire burned in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen. It was simply paralyzing and she found herself not even wanting to fight back against his reproachful speech.
The only thing she wanted was to be as far away from this man as possible, but before her delayed reaction could manifest itself, he was speaking again.
“By the look on your face, I can only assume that you’ve taken quite a blow to your ego. Fear not, I’ll be leaving you now. But don’t tell me that after our little...dalliance here tonight, that you’re not at least curious about getting to know me.” His words flowed smoothly, ridden with the accent of his homeland that was unknown to Arissa. Accents were unheard of in this land, forbidden and taboo. She still didn’t understand how he was clearly so foreign, yet still a part of the General’s army. He was obviously extremely good at deceiving, and that’s what unsettled Arissa the most about him.
With a low and tantalizing tone, his breath dangerously close to her ear, he smoothly added, pronouncing each syllable sharply, “Think about it.”
Cold shivers flashed through Arissa’s body. His footfalls were light and nearly soundless as he made his way to the doorway. The long, black jacket he always wore followed him like a cloud of smoke, silent and debonair. She didn’t bother to turn or glance in his direction, but she knew he had paused in the doorway. Her startled, unmoving eyes still had not left the same knot in the wooden table that she had been staring at since his discourse.
Apparently he couldn’t resist tossing one more cryptic comment over his shoulder. “You really might consider cleaning up in here. The floor seems a bit cluttered.”
With that, the gentle sweep of the door falling shut behind him left the room with a darkened, chilled ambience. In the exact moment that she was alone, it suddenly felt like she could breathe again and unknowingly gasped a huge lungful of oxygen. Feeling anxious, Arissa leapt to her feet, inattentively rubbing her arms, as if shielding herself from the chill she now felt.
Her eyes darted to the still, smooth door, as if she could still picture him standing there, tall and mysterious. It was so unlike her to feel threatened, she didn’t exactly know what to do with herself except remain frozen and try to comprehend what had just happened between her and Trax.
Arissa felt wounded. Hearing him talk with a sense that he knew more about her than what was possible seemed to weaken her. She felt like the walls that she had spent so many years to reinforce, designed to keep people as far from her as possible, had just been punched through. His words and accusations had indeed ripped a new hole in her safeguard, one that she was already working on fixing, but what startled her the most was how confident he was in thinking that he was correct. It wasn’t possible that he knew more about her than what he let on, but she couldn’t help but feel stripped of her shielded barrier that she never allowed anyone to see through.
What had he meant by his last, obscure remark? She recalled it had been something about clearing the floor of clutter. It puzzled Arissa, especially since the floor of this building was completely bare except for the table, chairs and a neat stack of boxes in the corner. Besides that there was nothing.
“Wait...” Arissa whispered to herself, allowing her gaze to drop to the smooth, wooden floor. Somehow, her brain suddenly recalled the random object that she had seen Trax toying with, recalling that he had discarded it to the side, completely nonchalant. It seemed crazy in her mind, but perhaps she needed to start thinking more like Trax if she was going to be able to associate with the man.
In only a moment, she found the tiny item, cast off toward the edge of the room, barely within the reach of the lamplight. Quickly kneeling, Arissa picked it up and discovered it was a piece of parchment, folded intricately into a tiny package. It took her a few moments to unfold it without tearing any edges. A single, written line was scratched onto the surface in thin ink.
The path is most clear at sunset.
Arissa read the line over, slower, thinking that her tired mind had somehow jumbled the words. When it still didn’t make any sense, she read them again. And again. And again.
She studied the paper until her eyes felt like they were burning, even studying the backside and the edges of the paper for any other clues. Something was telling her that she should understand what the sentence meant, but the message remained unclear to her. Now she thoroughly felt disturbed by Trax’s behaviour.
Turning back to stare at the closed door he had disappeared through, still gripping the paper in her hands, Arissa muttered to herself in a soft voice, “Who the hell is this guy?”
Chapter Five
Arissa was nearly ready to murder the next person who talked to her. Between Trax’s impulsive visit the night before, the constant reminders of the last moments before leaving her home in Daer and trying to decipher the damn words of that piece of paper, Arissa had gotten zero sleep. Her head pounded with a building headache and she couldn’t focus on anything she wanted more than to collapse and let her eyes close. If only she could.
Normally, everyone in the camp that wasn’t on guard patrol would meet in several of the long, low shelters that had been constructed as mess halls. Supplies and furniture were low, so most settled for a block of wood as a chair and a smooth rock to hold their rations of whatever food anyone was able to kill or steal the day before. Each morning, Arissa would join the ranks at every mealtime, often accompanied by Cayl or Landon or whoever happened to be around her at the time. She could count the names of the men she personally knew in the camp in only a few seconds, the rest simply avoided her, spare for practises or when she would deliver information to them. It was just as well, anyway. There was no way that she had time to work with each individual soldier, that was why she and Trax had devised the schedule to appoint leaders in certain areas, to help with the training and maintenance of the field.
This mornin
g, however, Arissa had skipped going to the halls, not feeling at all like eating. Instead, she brewed a mug of tea from her personal supply of fruit and herbs found in the forests. Hoping the steaming liquid would help awaken her, she found herself still staring at the parchment in her fingers. The material had become worn and much softer than before, she had handled it so much while pondering overnight.
Her brain felt so drawn and scattered that she didn’t even know what to do with herself for the day. At this time the day before, she had fully intended on pulling together a small group of the most advanced soldiers they had and send them back out into the fields. The plan was for them to regroup with their original fleets, the ones who were still loyal to the General and unaware of the change of allegiance.
The reason they had started such a vigorous training program wasn’t only to give them an advantage when it came time to stand up to the enemy. It was essentially because of something Trax had informed her of when they had first met. Arissa mentally shook her head at the thought, regretfully remembering once again how much she actually owed the man.
According to Trax, once a man was accepted into the General’s army, they received little to no training at all, other than how to understand what would happen to them if they were to disobey orders or stray from their pledge to always serve the General. It was obvious that the General was more concerned with quantity rather than quality. Arissa had been pleased to learn this, already knowing how to use it to her advantage.
However, the odd recruit did know a thing or two about wielding a sword, tracking in harsh terrain or levelling a difficult challenger. Those were the men that always gained the most respect with the General and they were the ones who were always quickly promoted. The higher a man was able to climb in the military, the more information and secrets he was able to obtain. That was exactly what they needed, to gain an intellectual advantage.
She could still send out a group. The last thing she wanted to do was to deal with training that day when she was supposed to be home, enjoying being with her family for once. Cayl had only sometimes attended the camp with her, usually staying behind to care for Janelle and to work out of his brother’s wood shop. Since his wife became a wanted criminal it was best to keep out of sight, which was why Cayl had moved his work from the city, to the hidden estate that his brother and young wife lived on. When he first told Arissa that he planned on coming with her to help at the encampment, she had been excited to be able to see him more than once a week, but it didn’t turn out that way.
With his lack of combat skills, Cayl didn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the camp. He tried and did his best to understand what everyone else was doing, but it was easy for Arissa to realize that he was out of his element, she just didn’t want to admit it. She had actually started to find his presence there distracting, rather than helpful. Perhaps it was a reason for why she had wanted to leave him behind from now on, if for no other reason than to protect him.
“Stop thinking about them,” Arissa mumbled to herself. She forced herself to turn her thoughts back on the day’s regimen, deciding what to do through foggy and heavy thoughts.
The sudden knock on the door caused her to start, nearly spilling her tea. Furrowing her eyebrows with slight annoyance, she simply moved her cup to avoid spreading the spill, pausing a few moments before inviting in the guest. The moment the invitation escaped her mouth, she regretted it. It was probably Trax and the last thing on earth she wanted to do today was talk to him. She didn’t even want to see him, not even from a distance. After last night’s encounter, she would be glad if he suddenly turned to smoke and drifted on up into the air.
Her stomach muscles clenched tightly from the tension rising in her, but a moment later, she felt it start to melt away after she heard the familiar sound of the guards armour. Protective armour was another supply that they had managed to lift from the real military camps and had indeed been useful to the appointed sentries around their makeshift encampment. The sound of metal scratching on metal was impossible to misinterpret.
“Your presence is required at the borstal.”
Arissa was on her feet in a moment, feeling her muscles twitch again. “What’s happened?”
It wasn’t unusual or rare for someone to be brought to their provisional prison. Being the leader of the camp, Arissa didn’t bother enforcing the laws of the government, since they were shot to hell anyway. However, she did implement a rather strict group of rules within the camp and they were made clear to all of the new recruits as they were brought to them. Theft and fighting were too minor to acknowledge, especially since that was exactly what they were being trained to do, to use against the General. It would be counterproductive to punish something that they were strangely trying to encourage. Besides, there was nothing within the camp worth stealing that wasn’t already stolen anyway.
The only reason they used the jailhouse was if Arissa suspected someone in their ranks was not as sincere and committed to them as they claimed. Only soldiers that Trax and the other officers knew were trustworthy were ever asked to join them, none ever hesitating to leave the General’s command, but Arissa never had been able to fully exercise the term ‘trust’ and was constantly suspicious of every person with them. If she had a gut feeling about someone or their behaviour was askew, they would be detained, interrogated and if the situation was deemed questionable, Arissa would swallow her honour, turn her cheek and order the disposal of the soldier. Every time she had to say the words, it took her back to the years she had spent doing exactly the same thing under the General’s watch, deciding who was granted the opportunity to live. She had to ignore her already cold, darkened heart and remind herself that they couldn’t afford to take a single chance on anybody.
Besides questioning, the only other time they arrested anyone was when any of the General’s military or bounty hunters would travel too close to the proximity of the camp. They had gained several men that way, ready to trade their allegiance for their lives, but again, Arissa had had to make the terrible call of ending the others’ to prevent word of their organization.
The guard at her door, his face distorted from the darkness of her temporary home, hardly let a second pass before answering her question. “They’ve captured someone at the border. He’s not one of ours and he’s not in the General’s uniform. They think he might be some sort of spy.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“He’s detained. Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere.”
Arissa nodded, feeling the sense of urgency leaving the air. “Fine, then. I’ll be along soon. There are a few things I need to handle first.”
Knowing better than to question her delay, the guard nodded to her and left. Arissa knew she needed to attend as soon as possible, if there was a threat, but she needed a few minutes first to focus her brain into the appropriate mindset. After the stressful night she had spent, the last thing she felt like she was ready for was an interrogation. She needed a moment to prepare.
The heat of anger instantly returned to her skin when her eyes fell on Trax’s note that she had left on the table. She had spent hours staring at the cursed words, if she didn’t know what it meant by now, then a few more hours wouldn’t change anything. Sick and tired of thinking about the obnoxious man, Arissa swiftly grabbed the note, folding it a few times before shoving it into the pocket of her cinched attire.
Her eyes fell to study the room for a moment, suddenly depressed by the thought that this would be her home for the remainder of the war, most likely even her life. It was empty and dark. Much like how her heart and soul felt at the moment.
Huffing a heavy sigh, Arissa skilfully snagged her hooded cloak from the hook where she had left it. The garment had nearly become a part of her, unable to travel or be seen without it. The ability to pull the hood low over her eyes and conceal herself was always comforting to her.
The air outside was warmer than she had expected. In the back room of the building she was staying in, th
ere was a tiny wood burning furnace that generated enough heat to warm the small enclosure. Spare for the bitterest of nights, Arissa never used it, preferring the cool chill in the air. She was glad that she could no longer see her own breath mingling in the outside air, though. Training and travelling was even more miserable in low temperatures.
There were few people milling around the camp, drifting from shelter to hall and back again, all giving her a clear path to her destination to remain out of her way. Arissa walked purposefully, quickly striding towards the borstal, her cloak fluttering after her in the still morning.
It was set a short distance away from the main part of the camp, completely out of sight. Most of camouflaged shelters that served as living quarters for the soldiers were all within ten paces of each other, scattered in and around the small clearing they were stationed in, spreading scarcely into the tree line, but still within sight of the mess halls. For both privacy and caution, a sturdy wall of vertical logs had been built, completely surrounding the small building, save for a narrow gap to walk through. Two armed guards stood abreast, blocking the passage, each heavily armed with a variety of weapons. They both carried daggers and a sword, as well as a bow and arrow and one even held a rifle.
The selection of weaponry that was available to them was uneven and scattered. They possessed several of nearly every type of weapon, ranging from firearms to swords and the rare set of throwing knives. It was all former property of the Generals’ army that everyone in the camp had managed to steal. There was no set choice of weaponry when it came to the military, either. Any deadly object that could still function was acceptable. After the wars had destroyed all the lands in existence, such utilities had become rare, what with even the factories and machineries being demolished. People got what they could find and did their best to hold onto it before somebody else came by and stole it for themselves.
