1. Raya – Twelve years later
RAYA
“The sky was flooded with ash. The smell of death coated the inside of my mouth. There was no hope.”
- OPAL BLOSE, REGIMENT ONE OF THE SAGE GUARD. THE DAY OF THE FOOTHILL’S AMBUSH.
The sprawling fields stretched far beyond my gaze as we crested the hill. I stared out at the open land, wondering how long it would be before I saw it again. An orchestra of sweetly singing birds filled the sky as the evening sun danced playfully along each blade of grass. Grass that tickled my bare feet as I waded through it, grateful for a moment of peace in this life full of chaos. The wind gently lifted the edge of my white dress and my body, too, became one with the elements. I was wind and fire and earth all at once.
“Finally,” Alias almost whispered from behind me, as if he had waited years, rather than days, to be here.
We stared in silence at the place we discovered when we were only children, the only place we called home.
“I’ll miss it,” Alias said. “Will you?”
“Of course I will,” I said looking back at him. “But we’ll see it again soon enough,” I added, attempting to calm our combined nerves.
Alias glanced over at me before taking off into a run, sprinting through the tall, dry grass like the careless child he once was. His laughter touched my bones softly and I followed him moments later. I ran slowly, though, fanning my arms out, wishing to touch every blade of grass I could reach.
The golden light bounced off Alias’s cropped, black hair as we laid on a small patch of short grass, staring at the sky, wishing we could float away with the clouds.
“No matter what happens tomorrow, I will always find my way back you.” Alias spoke quietly, his strong voice sounding so much older than only nineteen.
“I’m not worried,” I said. “They’ll have to draft us together.” I smiled, but no matter how much gusto I pushed into my voice, even I could not truly believe what I was saying.
Alias and I had different skills, we were different people. There was an extremely high chance that we would be separated. I rested my head on the grass and closed my eyes, sending up prayers to a Goddess I did not fully remember.
As the night drew to a close, the sudden thought that everything would change tomorrow dawned on me. Matron Clara was probably already done packing our scarce belongings.
Come tomorrow, we would be drafted and sent to The Foothills to train. Everything would be different. No more escaping the barracks or games. No more hiding from Matron or the younger children that followed us everywhere we went.
I reached out a hand and clamped it over Alias’s.
“We’ll be fine, Raya, we always are.” His words usually soothed me, but today they didn’t.
The walk to Matron’s barracks was too short and too quiet, as though we knew words were too much for a moment like this. By the time we reached the chipped red paint on the front door, it felt like there was already too much distance between us. Matron stood in the kitchen, listening out for the little ones sneaking out of bed. I turned to Alias.
“So, I’ll see you in the morning?” I asked with a smile.
“Yes, in the morning.” He smiled back before heading towards the boys’ rooms, dragging his feet along the floor as his moved.
My eyes lingered on the decaying home around me, the domed ceilings with old carvings of forgotten Sorcerers and Gods littered everywhere.
We had spent our entire youth in this building. It was one of the less fortunate training barracks, one often overlooked by the Sage Guard. The Sage Guard that I would soon be a member of.
I tiptoed around the nursery Alias and I used to hide in, watching over the youngest members of our ‘family’. I slid my finger over the dusty picture frames, laughing quietly at the drawings Matron had framed years ago. My eyes lingered on the picture Alias drew of us, over a decade ago, in the grass. Matron Clara was kind when so many other members of the Guard were not.
She was always more of a mother to us, instead of a trainer like the rest of them. Images of my life before Matron Clara whizzed through my mind. Fire, burning, my mother, but they flew away before I had a chance to cling to them, to understand them.
Tomorrow, our lives would be decided. Tomorrow, we became real members of society. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.
I snuck into the girls room, almost tripping over the numerous cots littering the space, and sunk into my small bed with a sigh.
Everything would be fine.
I had been training for this my entire life. We were left in the ferocious woods for days at only twelve years old, using our wits and skills to survive. We were handed a sword before a pencil. Taught to hit a target before being taught how to spell our names—that came after.
The Sage Guard were certain that we must only become scholars after we have bested every weapon and won every fight.
I was the first in the barrack to learn to write my name.
By the time the sun had awoken I was sure I had only slept for two hours, and when I saw Alias’s face, it looked like he got the same.
Matron Clara was in a panic, I could never have truly imagined her a solider in the Sage Guard as she flew up and down the stairs, attempting to get everyone over the age of nineteen dressed in their best clothing and next to the door before mid-morning.
I stifled a laugh as Alias trudged towards me in his yellowing, oversized tunic, and brown trousers. He stuck his tongue out in return.
“Ah! None of that when the Guard arrives,” Matron snapped. “I want all of you on your best behavior.”
Alias fell into line beside me and adjusted his collar. He looked, His eyes on mine, and he sighed. There was something new behind his gaze. Something troubling him.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing.” His eyes roamed over my face wistfully “I’m just trying memorizing your face.” He smiled, and I brushed him off.
Alias was my best friend, but he wasn’t cold, wasn’t calculating like me. I often thought he lacked the guts to become a member of Regiment One. I prayed to every Goddess that I was wrong.
“Don’t say that, Alias, we’ll be drafted together and then we will spend so much time together that you’ll get sick of the sight of me.” I nudged his arm before my gaze suddenly snapped to the four carriages trudging up our cobbled driveway. I could feel Alias’s gaze hot on my cheek.
A nervous chitter was soon silenced by an even more nervous Matron Clara, as a women clad in black armor and a sage sash ascended the stairs. She was followed by many similarly dressed soldiers, and I sucked in a breath as they swooshed past Alias and me.
“Matron Clara.” She spoke clearly and with a slight accent. “I see you’ve had a large number of children turning nineteen this year.” She walked up and down the line of us. Assessing each of us.
Matron bowed slightly; we followed suit. “Yes, Captain Jala, seven in total.”
“Anything I should take into account?” Captain Jala asked.
“Crass,” she pointed to the boy to my left without hesitation, “is excellent with a bow, he hit the bulls’ eye before his ninth birthday.” She beamed with pride. Captain Jala nodded.
Crass was assigned a position, no longer a trainee in the barracks; he was a member of the Sage Guard, Regiment Nine. Four more trainees were assigned before Matron turned to Alias.
“Alias, he is a fighter and a great hunter. He is talented with poison and explosives.”
Alias winced, I knew how he hated his role, how he hated himself for the lives he had taken to keep our training facility safe.
“Raya.” She turned to me, beaming. Clara knew me.
I did not resent my skills like Alias; I was not ashamed.
“I dare say she is the best child I’ve trained. Fluent in every weapon but strongest in throwing knifes and daggers.” Clara rattled off my various skills. “Although…” Her words brought me back from my daydreams. I knew what was coming. I knew what she was going to say. “She is barren.”
The words stung me like a slap to the face and Alias grabbed my hand.
“An injury from before she arrived. Our healer is sure of it.” The clinical way in which the Guard spoke of my inability to bare children made my skin crawl.
“She and Alias, they are inseparable, have been since they arrived.”
I stared at Matron, seeking comfort in her words. Captain Jala stared at us both for a moment.
“Alright, Alias, let’s see if you are as good as your Matron says,” Captain Jala teased. “Regiment One.” Alias’s hand tightened around mine. Regiment One. The highest rank for a trainee.
“And, Raya.” Jala turned to me and my heart began to pound. Taking a deep breath, Jala looked back to Matron. “An empty womb is not a curse, for a solider it can actually be a blessing.” I nodded, clamping down my jaw. “Regiment One.”
As the words left her mouth, I felt Alias’s arms around my shoulders as he squeezed me into a hug.
“No funny business, you two, let us not forget that this is war.”
Captain Jala’s voice was stern as she abruptly turned on her heel, walking to the carriages without another word.
War. War that we would be heading toward in mere moments.
Matron almost looked sad as she handed us the bags of possessions we arrived with.
“Be safe, children, and Sage Guardsave our motherland,” she almost whispered, and the children surrounding her mimicked the chant.
The carriages were worn but sturdy as Alias and I climbed into the one assigned for our regiment; twenty sets of eyes stared back at us. Our barrack must have been the last in their journey. Two jet black horses stood in front of it, ready to pull. The carriage itself wore a thick layer of black paint, the only color a strip of sage green that wrapped around it as a banner of pride. Or warning.
The house became smaller as we rode further and further away, and I finally felt free from the bounds of childhood. I was the master of my own destiny now. Goddess help me.
I stared out the carriage window, watching a foreign world slip by. Monasteries dedicated to saints and sinners flew by, cobbled streets filled with carts, markets selling spices, and lanterns were all covered in flags of burnt oranges, reds, and yellows. The eternal sunset. It was the Festival of Sacrifice, when families would offer up their children over the age of nineteen to join the Sage Guard, to fight in the second Great War. The tradition dated back hundreds of years, ever since the first Great War began and the sky was drenched in fire, like a burnt sun.
Alias squeezed my thigh as the great mountains came into view, the brown and red peaks shot up through the clouds. The other carriage carrying the other children from our “home” veered off. They would all live together at the Sage Guard’s biggest compound. Only Regiments One and Two continued their training alone. A small pain dug around inside my heart; would I ever see my family again?
“Listen up!” Captain Jala boomed, catching our attention. “Do not forget that we will be entering Zetka soon and that the Foothills are extremely close to the border… Do not be stupid.”
A snicker sounded from a man behind us, Captain Jala threw a deadly stare in his direction.
“You will not move without my say so, understand?” Her stern voice was laced with iron. Her long, almost white, blonde hair hung at her hips and her dark brown eyes seemed to make contact with all of us at once. She was tall and lean like a wraith, her body seemed to move like a dancer.
As we crossed the border into Zetka, Alias slipped his arm around my shoulders, more for his comfort rather than mine.
“Alright?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Yep,” he said without tearing his gaze from the world passing around us.
But his eyes betrayed his every emotion.
Alias thrived on control and, here, in this carriage, in this war-torn country, he had none.
Crossing the border was like crossing into a different world, not a different region. The lands were barren, as though everything and anything was afraid to grow. It felt like the whole region was holding its breath, even the sun seemed dimmer.
The carriages were silent and swords drawn, despite the fact that the foothills were right on the edge of Zetka, it was imperative that we remained on our guard at all times.
Alias squeezed me slightly closer to him. I should’ve felt safe next to him, protected by seasoned soldiers and their weapons.
But I didn’t. It felt wrong.
It felt as though we were riding straight into a trap…
By the time the iron gates of the Foothills came into view, my body was sore from constant tensing. The thick, battle-worn and impenetrable gates swung open with a shriek as we entered the barren gardens of the compound. It was icy and lonely.
A cobbled courtyard greeted us first, and without a word of warning a large, stone, castle-like building stood ahead of us. Gardens of deep green fanned out around it, meeting stone walls tall enough to protect this place from centuries of war. The short spires were clearly used as look-out towers and the gardens were littered with groups of trainees doing exercise drills.
This was the Foothills training barracks. The magnificent training barracks we had been taught to dream of our entire life.
Our carriage stopped abruptly outside something marked “L”.
Bathing chambers.
Once unloaded we were ushered inside immediately and pushed into the large building. The room was empty, with the exception of many iron tubs filled halfway with lukewarm water. Any sound from our almost silent group bounced from wall to wall, creating a cacophony of echoes. Our instructions were clear and Captain Jala’s departing words sharp.
“Clean and redress in Regiment One uniform.”
The newly joined members of Regiment One stared at each other and the shared tubs. Our training in our home barracks had readied us for anything, nakedness was not something we shied away from.
“Well, this is cozy,” the snickering boy from our carriage called to me, nudging me with his elbow. He whipped his tunic up over his head and threw at me. The fabric hit my neck. The other members of Regiment One covered their mouths to hide their laughter.
In three seconds, I was face to face with him and, in another, my fist connected with his jaw. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
I dropped his tunic at his feet. The laughter died quickly, snuffed out like a flame.
“What the f—” the boy started, his voice clogged with the blood from his bleeding nose.
“Raya,” Alias scolded me. “You don’t need to fight everyone.”
I huffed a breath. He knew me too well. How many times had one of our arguments ended in broken bones on both sides?
I supposed that was the byproduct of training children to be lethal.
Regret leached through my bones almost instantaneously.
“I didn’t mean—” I began.
“I know.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s not the same as it was before, I’m nervous that you’ll get yourself hurt,” he whispered. We stood in silence for a moment, each of us not sure what to say to the other. I wouldn’t change and nor would he.
“Although he definitely deserved it.” He smiled, breaking the silence and nudging me with his elbow.
Once calmed, the entire room took a quick dip in the tubs.
The walk back to the main building was freezing and quiet. I wondered if this was what our life would become now, public bathing and lewd comments, I cringed visibly.
“What’s wrong? Group bathing not your thing?” Alias teased, and I smiled back. Rolling my eyes, I allowed myself to laugh.
Group bathing was the least of our problems.