That morning, he stood close to explain exactly what he wanted. Close enough that I could smell the scent of fresh-washed skin and see the curve of his chin and jaw. The scar on the left side of his face only gave it character, as he seldom revealed his emotions, other than the occasional frown if things weren't going the way he wanted.
I wanted to ask if the scar made it difficult to shave; he'd done that so carefully his face looked as smooth as any I'd seen.
"Ready?" Armon grinned as he prepared to launch a weak blast toward me. Kerok stepped away, then, taking his scent and nearness with him.
"Ready," I dipped my chin in agreement.
"Catch it like an egg," Levi reminded me as Armon drew power into his hands to form the blast.
The first three attempts were only partially successful. I'd never imagined using my shield to capture something, only to hold it back.
In this, I found I needed to thin the shield and make it pliable. The fourth time, I caught Armon's blast, and then promptly dropped it in my excitement. Levi laughed aloud as I stared at the fizzling blast in amazement.
"Do that again," Kerok barked.
"Yes, Commander." Armon tossed another blast. I managed to shove it away, but not far. Now, I was determined to do better. Armon fired, I caught and launched, until the last one we tried sailed far over the lake.
"Let your shield around it drop," Kerok shouted. I pulled it away, and the blast burst over the water in a shower of sparks, hissing and spitting as the fiery remnants hit the lake.
"Very, very good," Levi said. "That was perfect."
"Not perfect yet—that was a weak blast, Lieutenant," Kerok pointed out. "It has potential, however, and that's exactly what I wanted to see. Armon, get her to breakfast and make apologies to Lilya for her tardiness."
"As you say, Commander."
I was still blinking in amazement at the spot above the lake where the blast detonated, once I'd pulled my shield away. Kerok's idea was true genius, and I wanted to thank him. He'd already stepped away, however, when Armon took my arm to step me to the trainee's mess.
K erok
Training is going very well, and we may have a few extra things to present to Father when he arrives, I informed Hunter. Some may take more time to perfect, but their potential is worth the effort.
Let me guess—Sherra is involved in all this, somehow.
She is, I hedged.
Have you changed your mind?
Hunter, no, I snapped at him. Do not do this.
Your father wants this, you know.
The law is that he cannot command me to choose one over another, I pointed out.
Then I still have two weeks to convince you.
You'll be wasting your time and effort.
It's my time and my effort, and I'll waste it if I want.
Hunter was as stubborn as they came, when he believed himself right in any matter. Father adored him for that quality. I often did, too, just not in this case.
You can be just as stubborn as your uncle Hunter, my mind, traitor that it was, informed me. Face it—she smelled good. Felt good near you, too.
"Shut up," I snapped aloud and went back to my messages from the battlefield.
Sherra
Lilya gratefully accepted help in her attempts to explain shield angling to her cohort. I could see that this was a difficult task for someone who'd never done it themselves. I began to realize that perhaps the drudges who trained us had passed all their tests when they were trained early in their lives, before failing at this one last lesson.
It made me want to ask Lilya questions about her training, and then ask Kerok or Armon about the removal of the instructors' power afterward. I wanted to know why it was done, because they didn't have any power at all, now. I also wanted to know whether it could be restored.
Like the washouts Wend and the others helped me train, I imagined that I could do the same for Lilya and the other instructors—if it were possible to restore what they'd once had.
Power should only be burned out of those who couldn't be trusted—like the Bulldog. She should never have been placed in charge of trainees; it made me wonder how she'd managed to be chosen for that task.
"See the shield in your mind, catch the ball softly in it like an egg tossed at you, and then push it away gently," I told the trainee. "You can do this—I've seen you make excellent shields."
"I see it as making a hollow in my shield," Caral stepped up beside me. "A soft hollow, as if I were a mother hen protecting the chick inside her egg."
Caral had performed the exercise successfully from the start after I'd explained it to her. I was grateful for the early practice with Armon and Kerok.
I'd arrived at the training camp without hope.
Now—I had the glimmerings of hope in my mind. My determination to keep as many of these women alive as I could grew stronger every day.
Armon and Levi had it, too—a hope that they wouldn't burn out their roses in a handful of years. Kerok's face stayed shuttered most of the time, and I wondered about that.
Perhaps he'd seen too much death and preferred not to be involved, other than working to save his troops. I wanted to ask Armon about Kerok's last escort, too, but held back. I did and didn't want to know about her.
Either way, hearing of her death would be painful, and would present a glimpse into my future, when I, too, died beside a warrior.
K erok
"We watched all the groups while they trained today. Lilya's was obviously the best," Armon reported. "With Sherra's help, and then Caral's, those women learned in half the time."
"How difficult will it be, do you think, for them to offer power to a warrior? I know that's reserved for Secondary Camp so it'll be fresh in their minds, but what could it hurt to test it now?"
"I don't see that as a hindrance," Armon shrugged.
"Then select several of our best, and arrange to have them on Lilya's training field tomorrow morning. I'll send a message to Lilya, explaining what I want. Tell your men to gauge the drawing of power and keep it to a small amount only, or punishment will be considered. This isn't a contest, and I expect you to make them understand that."
"I'll tell them, and have them blasted if they don't follow orders," Armon agreed.
"Ask Levi to handle Sherra, all right?"
"I will."
"Hard to believe we'll be back on the battlefield in two months or so," I sighed.
"I know. Every day is a new day, Commander."
"You have the truth of it," I conceded.
He was right. Once the trainees passed their final tests and made choices from the lists, they would serve a final internship at another camp—where they'd get to know their warrior partners and work with them every day, to get used to working with each other and hone their skills.
Some called it a honeymoon period, because they'd eat together, train together and, if desired, sleep together.
I wanted nothing to do with the last one, and intended to tell my escort the truth straight away.
Training only, meals perhaps, and nothing else.
You'll be watching Sherra and whomever she chooses, a small voice reminded me. "Shut up," I growled.
"What's that, Commander?" Armon asked.
"Nothing—certainly not meant for you," I said. "I believe you'd say I was thinking too much, Captain."
"Then stop," he grinned. "I'll go tell the others." He turned and left my office. I released the breath I was holding before going back to the messages on my desk.
"A message from the General," a courier from the battlefield stepped into my office. He placed a sealed note on my desk.
"Here." I handed him two messages for General Linel. "Everything all right at the front, Dayl?"
"Yes, Commander. Awaiting your return, as always."
"I'll be there in two months, and will likely visit in between," I said. "Feel free to tell the General that."
"I will, sir."
"Anything I should know, s
oldier?"
"The General looks weary. That didn't come from me, sir."
"I'll be in and out, then, when the trials here are finished."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're dismissed."
He stepped away while I watched him disappear. Couriers were more than capable of stepping; they'd merely failed in their blasting lessons. It was a position offered to the best students who'd never become warriors; they were allowed to keep their talents, such as they were, to carry messages and other written records.
General Linel didn't have mindspeaking talent, more's the pity, or I'd have saved the couriers time and effort, passing written messages back and forth. More often than not, the messages came to me first, and were passed in mindspeak to Hunter immediately after.
Yes, I could inform my father directly, but I wasn't aware of his schedule and could be interrupting something important.
That's why Hunter was the King's advisor—he'd not only preserve a temporary written record of the communication, but would pass the message to Father the moment he could.
He was my mother's only living brother, now—Merrin's father had died early and Merrin was raised by his mother and grandmother.
Talent ran strong in both families—it was one of the reasons Father married Mother. Drenn, unfortunately, had no talent. I, on the other hand—Hunter said once I'd gotten both measures—mine and what should have been Drenn's.
I'd studied warfare from the moment I could read a sentence. Even then, Father had plans for me to command the army, placing a Prince at its head—something that hadn't happened in nearly a century.
War was complicated, and it was difficult enough making sure the army was supplied with food, water, uniforms, supplies, medicines and everything else. Much of what was grown under the far southern domes went to the army.
As for warriors and escorts—those were produced in the scattered villages, and they were dwindling.
Since Father stopped the census, I had no idea whether the regular population was falling in numbers, either.
If Drenn had any sense, I'd ask him to quietly send out couriers to speak with heads of villages about how their numbers were holding up, and whether there was enough food grown and available water to support their populations.
Drenn would not only refuse, he'd go straight to Father about it, just to cause trouble between us.
"Fuck," I grumbled softly. As Armon said, I was thinking too much, and it was only frustrating me more.
I've been away from the battlefield too long, I told myself and slipped a finger beneath the seal of General Linel's message to open it. If Grae were here, she'd smile at me and take my hand, leading me away from my desk and the infernal paperwork atop it.
Those memories didn't crop up often, but I was reminded of Grae's loss every time I looked at myself in the mirror. The scar no longer looked red and angry, but it was deep—a lasting postscript from a terrible, soul-crushing day.
As for replacing her—I wanted someone competent who was self-sustaining, wouldn't get in my way and wouldn't mind if I ignored her most of the time. I had no idea whether there were any like that in this crop of escort trainees, and I'd be forced to select one of them or stay away from the battlefield for another six months.
Fucking hell.
CHAPTER 9
Sherra
Lilya was smiling at our noisy tables at dinner. All her trainees were discussing the new methods and how to better themselves. If nothing else, they spoke with hope in their voices—perhaps for the first time since they'd begun their training.
The Bulldog would have shouted at us to shut up, and frowned at anyone who made noise while they ate.
I didn't miss her.
Perhaps Veri still missed her, but she could be the only one.
Whenever Fourth worked with First, too, Veri always sent nasty looks my way, although she knew better than to slack off in her training—her instructor kept a close watch on her every time.
"I heard the lists went to the warriors today," Wend elbowed me before leaning in to give me the information.
"How do you hear all these things?" I frowned at her.
"Drudges," she grinned. "Besides, while you're working with the two early washouts every afternoon, I ask what's new of the others—who are still working as drudges outside our training classes. They know everything."
"Of course they do," I said. "Does this mean they will or won't be ready for their testing tomorrow?"
The warriors were coming to test the washouts we were training, and Armon said there was something else in the works, too, but didn't elaborate. I figured it was something Kerok wanted, so I forced myself not to ask further questions.
"They're ready—they can do so much more than we were able to do that first time," Wend agreed. "Levi is very happy with their abilities."
"It's too bad we didn't get this much attention and special training before we were shoved in front of warriors," Jae observed. "Things would have been so different."
"I know." She'd wept after failing the shielding test the first time. That had probably stayed with her, and could affect her choices with the warriors.
I hoped that wasn't the case—Jae was more than capable, and I'd pick her over most of the others. Only Caral, Wend and I could form better shields, in my opinion.
Jae should be given third pick in First group, if there were any fairness left in that ranking process. Caral was already sentenced to Fifth group because of the demerits levied against her, or she'd be in First group for sure.
I wanted to blame the Bulldog for those circumstances, but I couldn't. How we'd been trained initially had likely been the standard practice for a very long time. The Bulldog was merely a symptom of the disease, not the disease itself.
The favoritism, revenge and almost-murder, however—those misdeeds fell squarely onto the Bulldog's shoulders. Armon told me that she'd been sentenced to work on a potato farm, but I'd heard nothing since then.
I hadn't asked, either, as I didn't really care. She'd harmed Wend intentionally, and I had no sympathy for anyone who'd do that.
I also considered that when I arrived at training camp, I'd been alone and friendless. Friends surrounded me now—friends I cared a great deal about, and I felt responsible for keeping them alive.
"You think you're so smart," Veri walked up to our table. "The Bulldog called you useless tripe. I'm calling you useless cow dung."
I blinked at her in shock—how had she gotten away from her cohort, to come and taunt me? First Cohort was at the other end of the mess hall, eating.
Somehow, Veri had escaped her instructor's eye.
"Trainee, you have two demerits for leaving your cohort," Lilya snapped from behind Veri.
"You can't do that; you're not my instructor," Veri hissed.
"Three demerits, and I just did," Lilya said. "Any instructor can level demerits. If the Bulldog were still here, I'd point out the demerits she leveled against trainees in other cohorts, just to make you and the other one stand out at the end."
Veri's face flushed deep red. "Go back to your cohort, before I level another demerit," Lilya said, her voice even.
Veri turned and fled, although Nina met her halfway. Most of us heard Nina ask Veri how many demerits Lilya had given her. Veri was forced to answer truthfully.
"Three," she hung her head to hide the embarrassment.
"Then I'm adding one more to the tally," Nina said. "Get back to your cohort, trainee."
"Yes, Lady." Veri walked as fast as she could toward First's tables.
"I'm sorry," Nina walked forward to apologize to Lilya. "It won't happen again."
"It has been remedied," Lilya nodded. "You have no need to apologize."
"I really don't want to talk about it," I said as I pulled covers back on my cot in Fourth's barracks.
"She's a spiteful bully, because Nina won't let her get away with everything, like the Bulldog did," Wend huffed.
"It's done," I shook my
head at Wend. "She has four demerits, and that drops her down the lists. She did this to herself, and if she has any sense at all, she'll realize that."
"I wouldn't accuse Veri of having sense," Caral interjected. "Having no sense, however, appears to be her usual behavior."
"Lights out," Lilya called.
The lights went out moments later, and I settled onto my bed, hoping that sleep would come.
K erok
"Lilya gave her three demerits; Nina gave her a fourth one," I handed the notes I'd received from both instructors to Armon, who sat in my office.
"That drops her way down," Armon nodded as he read the brief messages. "I can't say it isn't deserved, either. She's pushed Nina to the limit too many times to tell."
"Nina says she only looked away for a moment, and Veri was already gone. I have no idea how she made it to the opposite end of the mess hall so fast."
"Little snipe can move quickly, eh?" Armon read the messages again before lifting his head to grin at me.
"Looks that way. I'll be watching her and her warrior in the field—you can bet money on that."
"I can help with that," Armon agreed while handing the messages back. "I'd trust a poisonous snake before I'd trust her."
"It's strange that you should mention that—Hunter sent mindspeak earlier. He says that the Bulldog's body was found just outside the southernmost dome, and she was dead of snakebite."
"How long ago?"
"Says the body looked fresh, and she wasn't filthy, as she should have been for being out on her own so long. The workers who found her said she appeared relatively clean."
"I've heard that tale before," Armon said. "Although it was a while back."
"I've heard it more times than that," I sighed. "I have no idea what this means."
"A mystery for sure, but at least she's dead and saves us the trouble."
"We know the snake didn't give her sanctuary," I shrugged. "But somebody did—before she was bitten there at the last. That troubles me, Armon. A great deal."
"Now that you put it that way," Armon frowned. "What did they do with the body?"
The Rose Mark: Black Rose Sorceress, Book 1 Page 12
