37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Reyna
The meadow is situated between the old ruins of the farm district, a stone compound that no one in the district remembers what it was used for, and the wall that separates us from the rest of the world. Hiding the meadow from sight. Astrid and I grew to call it the secret meadow but now it’s become my training grounds. Ten women of the hundreds that make up the district agreed to fight with me, and that’s better than fighting alone. I don’t know how much time we have until this vague threat of Hekate’s comes for us, but I can’t stall their training to find more recruits. The women in the market know what I’m doing, but I know, just like the black market, this will end up being one of the district's best kept secrets. Just in case, something does come for the city.
I stand in the middle of the space waiting. This is going to be our first training session; it was difficult to find a time where all ten women could show up, especially with the mandatory double shifts the men are having to work. A lot of these women have children, it’s the reason they want to fight. I swiped a few wooden swords from the training center a few days ago, just enough for everyone to have their own. Hopefully, their absence will go unnoticed. The trainees break so many on a regular basis, I think it’ll be fine.
“Well, this place was hard to find,” Cynthia Rose says, stepping into the meadow with a couple of girls with her.
“We can’t exactly practice somewhere that’s easy to find,” I point out. “We can’t let the Shadows or the interim Lumin catch us. You do understand the risk we are taking by doing this?” I ask, leveling my eyes with hers.
“To do this, we risk execution, but if you are right, and something bad is happening, then we need to be prepared. It's death if we choose to do nothing,” Cynthia says and the four other girls nod their agreement. They stay clustered together as they walk around the meadow waiting for the other half of our group to get together. A group of women walking together is never suspicious, the men of the district are always joking how the women do more gossiping than anything else, and I plan on letting them continue to think that. Women will never be a threat to them, but they’ll see. Once I’m done with them.
It doesn’t take long for the other half of the girls to join us. I have them line up in height order as I take them all in. Cynthia lands somewhere in the middle.
“We’re going to have our work cut out for us,” I say walking the line. “We’re going to need to start with strength training and building your stamina before we even get into fighting,” I announce and the girls in line let out a groan. I motion to the baskets I have laid out next to the fallen walls of the ruined compound. Loose rocks that were once pieces of the ruined structure encroach on the space around us, but they are the perfect size for makeshift weights. “We’re going to start with these. You’ll have to add the rocks to the baskets and I’ll have different exercises for each. You will switch when I call for it , ” I say out loud. I walk over to the first basket and fill it with a couple of rocks before lifting it over my shoulders to demonstrate a squat.
“These are squats, they’re supposed to burn.” I look each of them in the eye, and they nod. Moving to the next basket that is slightly smaller than the first, I fill it with a couple of rocks , and I raise it with straight arms until they are perpendicular to my body.
“Shoulder raises,” I call ; the name self-explanatory. Sitting off to the side is a creation of my own making. We don’t have the gym equipment here that they do in the training center, and even though I was lucky enough to sneak in with Astrid and Erik to train, I don’t have that luxury with this many women. So instead of using a barbell, I tied a wooden rod between two baskets to create a barbell, as well as dumbbells. They need to be stronger if they’re going to be fighting anyone. I load a couple rocks into the basket barbell, and lay in the grass. “Chest press,” I say, lining up my shoulders and wrists before I lower the barbell and push it back up. “Last but not least, bicep curls.” I load up the two makeshift dumbbells and demonstrate. The girls stare unblinkingly when I finish showing them what they will be doing.
“And this is going to teach us how to fight?” Riya asks, looking down at her body, where her stomach pokes out just short of her full breasts. She gave birth a couple months ago, and since the institute gave her the go ahead to start being physical with her husband again, I thought it would be safe as long as she takes it easy on herself.
“It's where we are going to start, we have to build up your strength if you are going to be able to do any damage and survive in a real fight,” I say, walking down the line again. “You’re going to be sore until your body gets used to it but pain never lasts and you have to remember that. We will be doing this four days a week, and when you’re strong enough we will start sparring.”
Cynthia sends a questioning look my way. “There are only four exercises,” she points out, looking around the meadow to see if we missed something.
“Good catch, the fifth group will be running the perimeter of the meadow.” I step up to them. “Partner up and pick where you want to start. We will do four rounds at each station for a minute, do as much as you can in that time then we’ll switch.” The girls scatter to the stations I’ve laid out in front of them. Leaving four girls fighting over who is going to run the perimeter and who is going to use the dumbbells. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“If you don’t make a decision, I’ll make it for you. Everyone is going to be stopping at all these stations four times, it doesn’t matter where you start.” Their bickering stops at my words and finally two girls trudge to the edge of the meadow, ready to start running when I give the word. Once everyone is in place, I put my pointer finger and thumb under my tongue and let out a loud whistle.
“Begin,” I call, and the girls get to work. I walk around them correcting technique and posture where I can as the time ticks by. I hope Astrid and Embla are okay. I’m going to do everything I can to free them from the King’s dungeon.
Rotating between the stations comes naturally to the girls, and I’m surprised I don’t hear as much complaining as I expect.
“Good job, ladies, take a breather, then we’re going to move on to stretching,” I call, and they all groan as they collapse onto the lush grass around each other.
“What is that?” Riya calls, pointing to something moving around high above in the shadows of the glowing moss. I tilt my head to look up and watch as a cloud of wasps moves from shadow to shadow high above our heads.
“Wasps. Demendia has never had wasps before,” I mutter to myself as confusion flits through me.
“You didn’t hear about what happened at the festival?” Aurenia asks, sitting up surprised.
“No...” I trail off waiting for someone to tell me what I’m missing.
“The wasps came in through the gates and forced themselves down the throats of the Lumin council.”
“I thought they fell ill from the plague.” I sit down next to them and listen. I thought I knew everything that was happening in the city.
“That’s what the healers are saying– that it’s just the illness. But I was there, I know what happened. I saw it. I saw all of it. The fight between Astrid and the Shadow Guard before they took her away. That’s why I’m here. I used to train with her and Erik every morning. If something big is coming, I want to be ready,” Aurenia explains picking at the grass as she sits crisscross in front of me.
“That’s not how illnesses work,” I point out, gleaning my knowledge from what I was taught as a student physician. Studies that I have been avoiding. It’s not like I can go home or go back to work. I’ve made a nice home for myself among the ruins. I’ll continue to let those of higher power believe I’m dead, that I perished from the illness. That’s at least what the physicians will say, none of them would want to admit to losing someone who is sick. “There’s more going on here than we know,” I whisper more to myself than the other girls.
“Okay enough resting, let’s get some stretches started,” I say, diverting their attention back to the reason we’re here. Whatever those wasps mean, it can’t be good.