Basav climbs the steel ladder that soars up into the floor of the tower above. The rungs groan under his extraordinary weight. I climb next, followed by Ethan. The metal is cool beneath my sweaty palms, and the strong breeze whips around my body, challenging my grip all the way up.
I make it though, and once at the top, we can see the vast expanse of cornfields on the east side of the Republic. I had no idea that we occupied so much land beyond the walls. I know that to the north there are the farms where the animals are kept, sugarcane and rice fields grow to the south, and the west offers fruits and vegetables, but for now, I only see corn. The stalks wave to us as they sway with the wind, calling us to duty.
Two guards stand watch inside the tower. They are looking out over the fields through the scopes of their rifles. These are the only Exalted that carry guns. From their perches high up in the sky, they take out marauders before they can get close enough to steal. Occasionally, one slips by and that’s where I will come in.
The inside of the watchtower is bare like the rest of our lives. There are no chairs or any type of surface for the guards to sit on. There are no breaks while on duty—no distractions—which is why the two Exalted keeping watch here don’t acknowledge our presence.
“Get a good look at the layout of the fields. This is the only time you’ll be allowed up here unless you’re chosen to train as a sniper after the Trials. For now, you two will be patrolling the cornfields. Ethan take the north half and you take the south.” Basav points at me as if he can’t even bear to utter my name. I am not worthy. He instructs, “Walk the perimeter and then inspect every couple of rows. When you report to duty, check in with the gate guard, and then go directly to the fields unless you hear otherwise. I expect you to be prompt.”
“Yes, sir!” We reply in unison and bow to our superior.
“Strength be with you. Now get out of my sight.” Basav dismisses us, his mighty baritone voice booming in my ear.
Ethan descends the watchtower first. He grips the sides of the steel ladder, and instead of climbing down, he puts both feet on the outside of the vertical bars. He slides all the way to the ground in one swift drop. Now he’s looking up at me, waiting and challenging me to do the same. Giving in to the Exalted’s competitive nature, I follow suit and drop. My loose hair flies up above my face as I plummet to the ground. My feet land on the hard earth with a grand thump, and my body is jostled from the impact.
“Didn’t know if you were up for the challenge, but well done,” Ethan praises.
“I’m up for any challenge you can throw at me,” I tell him confidently even though my palms are burning from the friction of the drop.
“Strength be with you today, Mena. Let’s walk to lunch together after our shift,” Ethan says to me.
Why wouldn’t we walk together? What a strange comment, but I don’t even bother with considering any ulterior motives to his request. I’m too anxious to start my patrol, so I simply agree and leave for the sprawling south half of the fields. Once out of his sight, I rub my aching hands on my shorts and check for blisters. They seem to be fine, just red with irritation.
There are no farm citizens in the fields that I walk. The golden ears of corn are not yet mature enough for harvest so I walk alone with only the dancing stalks to keep me company. They hover over my head as I pass through their rows, enjoying the rustling that breaks up the silence in the air.
I walk the perimeter for the third time now, and while this is not the most eventful duty, as I had hoped, it does allow for thought. I think about training and the upcoming Trials. Even more so, I think about the United Ceremony and how things will change. My mind is full of thoughts of the future.
Leaving the outer edges of the fields, I enter an inner row that’s long and narrow. It’s like walking into a tunnel. The tall corn nearly blocks out the sun and there is sense of total isolation.
Uph! I fall to the ground, catching myself with my hands. I grab for my fixed-blade skinning knife, but my hands come up empty. My eyes dart to my waist. I unfortunately discover that my entire knife belt is missing. Before I can grab for my ankle dagger a man jumps on top of me, pinning me down. I try to buck and shift out of his hold, but he is prepared for it. He counters my every effort while easily holding a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. He’s strong . . . too strong. This is no ordinary man.
EIGHT
I quit fighting against the marauder that has me pinned down. I focus and try to get a good appraisal of him. He is much taller than me, and though not as bulky as an Exalted, he is plenty muscular. His skin is tanned from the sun like a marauder’s would be. His clothes are brown not black. All signs point to him being a marauder, but I know that he is definitely an Exalted. There’s no question about it.
What is an Exalted doing out here behaving like he’s a marauder? Was he taken? Is this some kind of trainee test? Questions swirl around in my brain like a tornado. I try to fight my way to the right answers, but I can’t find them.
Looking up into his deep brown eyes, I wait for death. Instead, he lowers his face to mine, his long lashes accentuating his intense stare, which is almost negated by the soft upward curve of his mouth. His slight stubble scratches my cheek as he lowers his mouth to my curious ear.
His warm breath makes my pulse quicken. He whispers, “Calm down. I’m not here to harm you.” The weight of his body increases as he relaxes against me. Again, he whispers in my ear, “The Republic has been lying to all of you. They’re controlling you and breeding you for their gain.”
Okay. This is definitely not a test. Exalted would never say such things . . . test or no test.
I shake my head under his palm. My cheek rubs against his sharp stubble as I try to crane my face around and bite him. He tenses up his hold on me and pulls his face away from my ear. He searches my wild green eyes. Then I notice the corners of his mouth turning up again, like I’ve seen the Ambassadors’ do.
The stranger states, “They are controlling you. They want you to be strong, but not as strong as you can be. Stop taking the Pump and you’ll see. You’ll be stronger than you’ve ever been before . . . It might take a few days, and you may feel strange, but push through it. Don’t let them know. Don’t let them see you come alive.”
And just like that, he leaps off of me and disappears into the green and gold expanse. I hurl myself after him, pushing through the stalks. I pull my ankle dagger out and whip my head back and forth, searching for him. He vanished. Here one second and gone the next.
My belt! My knives! He took them.
I search for them, desperately crawling on my hands and knees in the dirt. After several minutes, I find them a few rows over. He must have tossed them when he jumped me.
I rock forward onto my knees, I let my head fall into my hands, and then I grab fistfuls of my own hair. Weakness and failure hit me in the gut. I have failed my first patrol.
NINE
“How’d it go?” Ethan’s cool, blue eyes stay focused on the path ahead as he asks me about my morning. We’re walking together to the cafeteria for lunch—just like he wanted.
I lie. “Good. You?” I can’t bear the thought of him knowing that I failed. In fact, I don’t want anyone to know.
Ethan’s relaxed tone puts me at ease. “Yeah, it went well. It was pretty uneventful, but it gives me a lot of time to think about how I’m going to beat Az.” He looks at me now, implying things to come. Implying things between us. When did things between us start to change? This morning? Yesterday?
I should welcome his advances. He comes from high ranking parents, but all I can think about is what happened in the fields. Why me? Why today? Who was he? Should I believe him? Will I be stronger if I do what he says? I’ve never had so many questions about my life before. Ever.
We walk the rest of the way without another word between us. It’s a good silence, one that Ethan and I take comfort in. We know each other well enough not to have to fill all the lulls with nonsense. Right now, however, t
he silence leads to more questions in my head. The heat of the day is beating down on me and aggravating all the impossibilities swarming in my mind. I’ve never had so much to think about before.
Ethan and I are the last to arrive in the cafeteria for lunch. Val gives me a suspicious glance when I sit across from her. I shrug it off and decide to ask her about her morning training. “How’d it go this morning?”
She answers quickly, “Same as yesterday. Blah, blah, blah. How was patrol?”
She leans over her food tray, closing the space between us by a few inches as if that will help her hear me better. I know she’s dying to know how my patrol went. More importantly, I know she wants to know whether something happened with Ethan, because being a few minutes late evidently means he made a move on me.
Biting off a huge mouthful of chicken, I allow myself a second before answering her question. I consider telling her about the Exalted marauder later, when others aren’t around, but decide against it almost immediately. While she is my friend, she’s still my competition. I can’t risk the consequences. So I echo what Ethan said of his experience. “Good, but pretty uneventful. It was good experience for what it’ll be like after the Trials.”
“Kwan and I are scheduled to patrol the farms tomorrow morning. Your father patrols there, right?” she asks.
“He does now. He used to work at the East Gate, but was reassigned to the North Gate around the time I went into training.” Again, I race through my meal and conversation with the girls so that I might sneak back to the Capitol building. Maybe I’ll overhear some more talk about the Taken and marauders.
I tap my foot as I wait for the citizen to release me from the cafeteria. Once outside, I keep my pace to a light jog as not to upset my full stomach. I pass citizens that are tending to the greenery and sweeping the sidewalks. None of them see me. They are all committed to their tasks and don’t notice what isn’t right in front of them.
I head to the same spot that I always go. The coarse wall of the Capitol building tugs at my skin as I drag my arm against it. I try to keep out of sight as I peer into the courtyard. It’s empty today. It’s hard to believe that not one Ambassador is around.
I wait until I have to head back for training, but the common area remains abandoned.
* * *
While walking back to the facility, I consider the Exalted marauder’s suggestion to stop taking the Pump. I argue with myself, but they’re supplements. What does that have to do with control? But he said it would make me stronger, and that’s what really matters. Maybe this will give me the edge I need to win the Trials. It doesn’t take much to convince myself, anything for the better of the Republic. Of course, I’ll have to report my findings if it does make me stronger. The Republic will surely want to know if there is something that will make the other Exalted stronger.
The entire group is waiting for me as I make my last minute entrance to combat training. I am not late though. Never again will I be late. I’ve reminded myself of that everyday since I was nine years old.
“Where did you go?” Val whispers to me as I go to stand next to her.
“I went for a walk,” I lie to her. The less I say the better at this point.
“Pair up!” Garret hollers at us. Thankfully he ends any chance Val has to question me further about my whereabouts.
We spend the first hour reviewing yesterday’s session. Then we move on to disarming an attacker with a knife. There’s a way to twist the attacker’s knife hand and steal the blade away. Then with one quick down stroke, slice through the throat or jam the butt of the knife into the temple. It’s very brutal, but very efficient. I prove to be very good at this particular maneuver.
Grunts and huffs from my fellow trainees momentarily fill my mind and keep me focused on the exercises instead of on the Exalted marauder from the cornfield. I’m making Val weary from the force I’m putting into countering her attacks, each time disarming her instantly. When it’s my turn to attack her, she struggles to disarm me. She even completely fails to do so several times.
I sneak several quick looks in Ethan’s direction. He seems to be holding up pretty well against Az. His movements are swift and precise. He notices me watching him, and I hurriedly shift my gaze to Kinah, who is overpowering a girl named Adira. Adira falls to the ground over and over again. Kinah spares the girl nothing and shows no signs of letting up.
Before finishing for the day, we give a few blows to the punching bags that line the back wall. We then do our stretches to cool down.
Val and I walk back to our dorm together. She complements me by saying, “You’re becoming stronger in training. What’s gotten into you?” She looks sideways at me, and then adds, “I’ll take some, whatever it is.”
What I should say to my best friend is, I was ambushed and I failed miserably. I need to get better fast. What I actually say to her is, “I guess the patrol got me ready for what’s to come . . . and as much as I hate to admit it, what Az said at dinner gave me the motivation to try harder.” This is partially true so I’m not actually lying to her.
When we reach our room I tell Val to go ahead and take first shower again even though it’s my turn. I say, “I’m going to go up to my parents apartment and then have dinner with them in the United’s cafeteria tonight.”
“You’re going to throw me to the wolf?” she asks. Then she adds, “I’m talking about Kinah.”
“Sorry?”
“Fine.”
* * *
Dinner outside of the trainee’s cafeteria is permitted once every other week. This is much more than the twice a year we were allowed at a younger age. Some trainees grow so accustomed to not seeing their parents over those years, that when they are finally allowed dinner once every other week with them, they choose not to join them. By then we’ve learned to rely only on ourselves. So consequently parents become just a source of ranking or status to those trainees.
I’ve always taken advantage of my time allotment with my parents. They are wise and have much experience in this life as an Exalted. I’ve learned a great deal from them, and there’s also something else that keeps bringing me back to them. I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s something from my childhood that I can’t recall. Every now and then I remember snippets of when I lived with them. Things were different then, but again, I’m not sure how.
With the strange dream about my father having occurred last night and the incident with the Exalted marauder this morning, I feel like I need to see them today. I also want to see if my father and mother know anything about what happens to the Taken after they’re taken. I want to know if they’ve ever seen a marauder. There are so many things that I’ve never asked them. There are so many things I’ve never thought about before.
Once Val leaves, I take my time showering and redressing in a simple black fitted tank and black shorts, like usual. I sweep my mane up into a messy bun and finish by lacing up my standard issue black boots.
My parents’ apartment is on the 7th floor of the same building I live in. I ascend the stair in the empty stairwell two at a time. Once reaching their floor, I take a right and then a left at the first corridor. Theirs is the first apartment on the left. I knock.
My mother’s face remains somber, but I see a glint of something in her eyes as she swings the door open wide and welcomes me back into my old home. It still smells the same as it always has. I breathe in the familiar scent. I will never forget that smell of lemons and menthol.
My mother sometimes, well a lot of times, sneaks lemons back from her patrols in the fruit orchards. She says she likes the way the lemons make her water taste. The menthol comes from the cream my father uses to soothe his aching muscles. Life as an Exalted has a tendency to wear the body out sooner than a regular citizen or an Ambassador.
One of the things I remember, from my childhood here with them, is that I hated it when my father would take out that blue jar of menthol rub. I would run into my room and hide under my bed. It’s stran
ge that I don’t have the same reaction now . . . or any reaction to it.
“So good to have you join us tonight. Will you be eating with us as well?” my mother asks. Her short brown hair is the same color as mine. It frames her delicate features in a way that makes her seem almost childlike. She shuts the door behind me and takes a seat next to my father on their couch. They sit close to one another, thighs touching. They wait for me to respond.
I want to rush into all the questions I have before we go into the cafeteria with dozens of listening ears. I start out slowly with a little polite conversation. “Yes, I thought I would. It’s been two weeks now since I last ate with you.” I find a chair to sit in and tuck my feet underneath me. And as casually as possible, I ask, “So, did you both hear about the Taking the other day?”
It’s my father who answers. “We did, but it was not in our area. I suppose the Ambassadors are panicked. We had trainees in your year assigned to patrol this morning. This has never happened before.”
I nod. “I was on patrol this morning in the cornfields outside the East Gate.”
“Why, isn’t that where the citizen was taken from?” My mother’s voice rises slightly, almost as if she’s scared, but that can’t be. Only Ambassadors get scared.
“The Ambassadors want more Exalted patrolling. They’ve made it part of our training. It’s pretty dull, though. Walking up and down those endless rows.” I don’t tell them what really happened because they’ll be forced to report it.
My father reaches over and pats my mother on her arm. I have always noticed that they show more affection than any other United couples in the Republic. I briefly wonder if my United will ever pat my arm like that.
EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) Page 4
