CHAPTER FIVE
I wasn’t wrong in my prediction. Day number one wasn’t at all the worst. It was merely the beginning.
I was now one week into Xalbia. It sometimes shocked me that I hadn’t given up. I’d come close to it a few times.
Right at this moment, I was tired. Cold. Naked. And I badly needed to relieve my bladder.
I also badly needed to sit, but I’d been ordered to stand in place in the corner of the shack. This kind of prolonged positioning was not new to me. I was familiar with the relentless ache in my lower back, the harsh stiffness in my knees, and the persistent throbbing in the soles of my feet.
“People on Ob-duty often have to stay in the same position for long periods,” Ajax had told us. “You’d all better start getting used to it now … if you can.”
Much as it was killing me to not move right now, I was grateful that Vesper—who lounged in a chair opposite me, reading a book—had only asked that I stand. It was harder when she ordered you to either squat or raise your arms and hold them in position.
Did I care that I was naked? No. I had the first time. And the second. But after that, I’d managed to push past the feelings of vulnerability and humiliation, just as I’d so far managed to push past everything else.
What I’d learned was that Xalbia wore you down to the extent that you could only depend on your will and drive to push on.
Day one hadn’t ended with the ingestion of the apple.
After lunch, one of the officiates had given us a lesson on the various beasts that inhabited Reaper’s Pines.
Lessons he’d given us in the bathhouse, while every candidate sat in ice-cold water.
After dinner, we’d been tested on what we were taught. Tested while fencing with officiates.
A scythe had been my weapon of choice, since I’d trained with it while practicing forms of fighting arts at Phoenixia. I wielded it well. But I’d never gone up against godkin before.
Was it a surprise that Keyes knocked me on my ass? No. I’d expected it. I’d also hated it. And I’d jumped back to my feet.
He’d knocked me down again. I’d pushed to my feet again … only to eventually get put on my ass once more. But I’d gotten back up.
I always got back up.
That was more than I could say for some.
The other candidates hadn’t hit the floor quite as often as I had, but they hadn’t done swimmingly well at fencing either. Well, having to split our attention between fighting and answering questions meant that we hadn’t performed well at either.
Day two had been more rigorous. After breakfast, we’d been taken outside the city walls to hike around a jungle-like area of Reaper’s Pines. It. was. Hot. My clothes had clung to my sweat-slicked skin. The scorching air had felt so muggy and oppressive it had weighed me down.
On day three we’d trekked around the rainforest-like area of the Pines where there were constant thunderstorms. The overly strong wind had whipped at me, the heavy rainfall had slapped down on me, and the booms of thunder had all but deafened me.
Drenched to the bone with my sodden clothes feeling like heavy weights, I’d had to walk through deep puddles and slushy mud.
We’d spent day four in the garrison, where we were again taught about more beasts within the Pines. This time, the lesson had occurred in the bathhouse … and those baths had been filled with bugs.
Yeah, bugs.
After dinner that same day, we had again been tested—this time while fencing Keyes. To no one’s surprise, I’d found my butt on the ground several times. But, as with our last round of fencing, I had repeatedly gotten back to my feet. I’d never once tapped out.
We’d finished off day four with a lesson in combat that had sapped us of what energy we had left … which had made it even harder to rise when we were woken at an ungodly hour on day five for a trek in the snowy parts of the Pines. Day six had involved a long walk around the swampier area.
On the days we hiked, we were always made to do something shitty after returning to the garrison and having dinner.
Stand in awful positions for a long-ass time, fence while blindfolded, drink the venom of Deimos’ creatures to start building a tolerance to them, or endure a rigorous exercise routine.
By the time the latter was over, my muscles were always sore, my skin was always slick with sweat, and my lungs were always burning for air.
Afterwards, I would collapse into my hay-bale bed, dead to the world.
Now I’d arrived at day seven, which was thankfully almost over.
It hadn’t started any better than it was ending.
I’d been woken unreasonably early, forced to jog around the courtyard while an officiate taught us more about the Pines’ inhabitants, and then had fenced with Vesper on a narrow shaky bridge as I was tested on what I’d been taught.
Passing the test hadn’t earned me anything. Never did. That wasn’t how it worked here. The only real reward you had was not passing out.
After my evening meal, I’d been sent to the storage shack near the bathhouses to see what Vesper had in store for me, which happened to be this.
So, in sum, the days were grueling. Our food and water rations were small when we were trekking, which made it harder for everyone to keep going. And it certainly didn’t help that we didn’t get much sleep.
Sometimes we were woken at three am, sometimes at six am, sometimes somewhere in between. And we were all feeling the physical effects of how little rest we got.
But I was still here. Although I was physically weaker than the godkin, I hadn’t cried foul as some had.
While strength and speed and suppleness were really good to have, they provided no certainty that a candidate wouldn’t decide they were ‘done.’ You couldn’t rely on physical strength when so fatigued.
It was mental endurance that kept you moving when your body cried foul.
Or, in my case, it was the prospect of undergoing ‘tests’ at the hands of the Sovereigns.
They’d once performed tests on Talon too, curious about what he could take, what he could do, what would break him. I wasn’t feeling inclined to become familiar with any of that.
So, I had to have a ‘keep going’ mindset.
Had to persevere, not forget my objectives, remain mentally switched on, find my way past obstacles, and adapt to whatever environment I was tossed in—which were mostly areas of Reaper’s Pines.
Thanks to the ever-present smoky haze there, visibility was always poor as shit, which wasn’t helpful.
As such, my eyes would water and itch from the constant strain of simply trying to see.
Exposing us to the environments wasn’t merely about putting us through hell. It was about giving us a taste of what it was like to patrol and be stationed in such harsh terrain. It was apparently also to prepare us for the ‘final stage’ of Xalbia—something nobody would elaborate on.
No matter where in the Pines we were, there was a lot of walking, marching, running, climbing, descending.
Falling.
I’d had a few little accidents. Once, I’d fallen into a river and almost gotten swept away by the current. There had been nothing graceful about how I’d clung to a branch and awkwardly climbed onto the bank.
Talon had stared at me as I’d stood there soaked to the bone, my wrist broken. And I’d known he was waiting for me to announce that I was ‘done.’ Instead, I’d quipped, “I look pretty right now. Admit it.”
He’d grunted and walked away.
Another accident had happened when I’d tried dragging a fellow candidate out of a ditch. They’d ended up pulling me down there with them. We’d eventually clambered out—none of the officiates had helped; we were expected to help ourselves, just as we would do if on patrol.
When I’d reached the surface—covered in dirt, scratches, and wrestling with the pain that came from a twisted ankle—Talon had arched a Now are you done? brow.
I’d smiled and said, “I really love our stare-outs. They bring spice to my day.”
He’d sighed and stalked off.
Another time, I’d slipped down a mudslide. His jaw hard, Talon had watched me awkwardly make my way back up, glaring at me like I’d done it on purpose to inconvenience him or something.
When I’d gotten to the top caked in mud, Seneca had laughed her ass off.
So I’d hugged her.
She’d squealed like a little girl. It must have been a trick of the light, but I’d thought Talon’s lips might have quirked for the merest moment. He had then given me his usual, Have you reached your limit yet? look.
I’d said, “That was my favorite accident so far, because I haven’t broken or sprained anything.”
He’d gifted me a dry look and, as usual, walked away.
There were days I hated him, the Marshalls, and whatever officiates accompanied us around the Pines. Why? Because they traversed the entire territory with complete ease, no matter the conditions. No one could claim that they weren’t incredibly tough.
There were many days where I returned to the garrison with injuries. Slashes from whipping branches. Blisters from walking. Strains from twisting my ankle. Bruises and grazes from falling.
Interestingly, my wounds healed a little faster than usual—and it wasn’t merely due to the ointments available at the apothecary. But the injuries never healed before I made it back to the garrison. Because, yeah, we’d be required to keep going, no matter how bad our wounds were or how many we had.
A few candidates passed out while on treks. They had been woken quickly by a Marshall and urged to either keep moving or stay out there and let the beasts roaming the terrain have them.
Ah, the beasts. Yes. They were problematic.
They never attacked, always careful to avoid officiates. But they stalked us, which wasn’t fun. As if dealing with insects, poisonous reptiles, and damn snakes—which, yeah, I had an annoying fear of—weren’t bad enough.