19 A Liar #2
By the time they returned to the barracks, the moon was high, and her thoughts had drifted to her bed. She unpinned the Royal Crest from her cloak, and Elijah slipped it back into his pocket.
Coins passed hands at the gate, and Vaelira wondered if Elijah was trying to buy her trust with gifts and privilege.
Part of her wanted to care, but she was too tired to follow the thought.
She gave him a nod and headed for the dormitories.
When she reached her room, she unstrapped her sword, then lay on the bed without undressing, too exhausted to care.
Vaelira awoke to the sound of knocking. She didn’t move. Her limbs felt like stone. Pale light shone through the window, making her eyes sting.
The knock came again. She rolled off the bed with a grunt and landed hard. Something dug into her side. The dagger.
Pulling herself up, she shuffled to the door. Ressa stood in the hall, a roll of bread in hand.
“You missed breakfast,” she said, shoving the bread at Vaelira. “We leave in ten.” Ressa eyed Vaelira’s bandaged hand, then turned on her heel and left.
Vaelira took a bite. It was soft and warm. She chewed in silence, watching Ressa disappear down the stairs, guilt twisting her insides.
Ten minutes later, she stood in the courtyard with the other recruits.
Grey clouds pressed low, thunder booming somewhere overhead.
Kolborn waited on the stone steps of the training building, hands clasped behind his back.
His gaze passed over the group, pausing briefly on her, but before she had a chance to read his expression, he looked away.
The doors behind him opened, and Jurah stepped out, the hood of his thick waxed cloak already drawn. A hush fell around the courtyard.
“Training is in the outer field today,” he said, voice echoing off stone. “From now on, drills and combat will be outside twice a week. You need to get used to training in all weather.” He glanced up as lightning arced overhead. “The Gods agree, apparently.”
People laughed, then followed their Commander towards the Old Town gate.
Vaelira spotted Fang's broad frame cutting a path through the group and jogged to catch up. “Hey,” she said, pulling her hood up as the first drops of rain began to fall.
Fang grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. “Heard you had a late night.”
She tried not to react. “Something like that.”
“Slept through breakfast again,” came Ressa’s voice from Fang’s other side.
Fang chuckled. “Like you haven’t?”
The rain picked up as they made their way through Old Town. Thunder rolled above and lightning cracked as the tall gates to New Town came into view. Vaelira’s pulse quickened. She hadn’t been this far out since arriving in Caerthalyn. “Where is the training field?”
Fang shrugged, but Ressa answered. “Right on the perimeter wall. Used to be farmland until the crops were pushed outside the walls. The Academy uses it now.”
“The Academy’s in Old Town though, right?”
Ressa nodded. “It grew too fast. There wasn’t enough room to train everyone. My father used to bring me along to watch the training when I was little.”
A memory stirred. Vaelira was a young girl, hiding behind a blackberry bush as she watched the Anhaven Guard train. She’d tried the moves herself and fallen headfirst into the thorns. She’d returned the next day more determined than the last.
She glanced at Ressa. The woman walked steadily through the rain, her hood drawn but her shoulders square, jaw set. There was a grit to her, the same grit Vaelira saw in herself.
Ressa turned, snagging her gaze. Vaelira smiled and shook her head slightly. Nothing, she said silently, realising she knew so little about the woman. Maybe it was time to start letting Ressa in.
As they passed through the gate and into New Town, people stepped aside to let them through, most with heads bowed and shoulders hunched, but some watched curiously.
Some of the faces were smeared with grime, their eyes sharp and accusing, as if the recruits had been the ones to wipe the dirt on their faces.
A small girl in a faded coat darted alongside them, waving and giggling when someone waved back. Her mother scooped her up, and the girl squealed with laughter, kicking her feet wildly.
“They stink like the Abyss,” muttered a voice behind her.
Vaelira stopped. The recruit collided with her back.
“Watch it,” he snapped.
Vaelira turned to face him, Fang and Ressa flanked her.
“I wanted to check something,” Vaelira said, tilting her head and wrinkling her nose. “Hmm. You seem to be mistaking their stench for your own.”
The man sneered. “What would a prince’s whore know about it?”
Fang cracked his knuckles.
The man stuck out his chest. “Can’t fight your own battles? Guess the prince’s little—”
Vaelira’s hand snapped out, striking him in the throat. He staggered back, choking. She kicked out his legs and let him crash to the cobblestones where he wheezed for breath, clutching at his neck.
Her palms prickled, but she took a slow breath and the sensation vanished. She turned to catch up with the rest of the group, not waiting for him to get to his feet.
“That was satisfying,” Ressa said, stepping beside her.
“Yeah. I hate Lukas,” Fang added with a grin.
Vaelira smiled.
The training field was half drowned. Ressa stood across from her, rubbing her shoulder where Vaelira had landed the last blow.
They were barely ten minutes in, and Vaelira’s boots were already filled with water, her toes stinging and numb from the cold. It was really time for her to invest in some new gear.
Rain lashed her face with every gust, her braid whipping around her shoulders, soaked strands clinging to her skin. The wind howled so loudly she could barely hear her own breath, let alone Jurah’s instructions.
Then it wasn’t the wind that made her ears ring. It was something else, something… wrong. She glanced around, but nothing seemed out of place.
Ressa swung at her and Vaelira parried the blow, sending it over her shoulder.
Ressa crossed, twisting and swinging with the other fist. It landed squarely on the side of Vaelira face, and she staggered back.
A metallic tang coated her tongue, the same as the night before, and a chill ran the length of her spine, more cutting than the rain.
“You didn’t block,” Ressa said, panting.
Vaelira shook her head. “Go again.” She raised her fists, trying to focus on the moves Jurah had demonstrated.
The metallic taste flared again, and her gaze snapped to the left. She dropped her fists.
Kolborn stood alone under a small shelter, watching the drills from a distance. Something crouched low behind him, something dark and hunched. It rose, its movements unnatural.
Her body screamed to act, but no sound left her mouth. Her voice was trapped in her throat, panic lodged there like a stone. She reached for her power, but it didn’t answer.
The shadow leapt.
A single flash of movement and the figure vanished.
Kolborn collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the sodden grass.
He lay motionless.
It had happened too fast, over in the time it took to draw a breath.
She should move. Why couldn’t she move?
Ressa was at her side. “You saw it too?” Her voice cracked as she grabbed Vaelira’s shoulders. “Tell me I didn’t just see a demon in the middle of the day and inside the walls? Tell me I’m not losing my mind.”
Vaelira didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. She’d just watched it happen. Had done nothing to stop it.
Across the field, the other recruits kept sparring, circling, and striking. No one even noticed.
“We need to tell the Commander,” Ressa said, jaw tight. She gave Vaelira one more glance then sprinted away.
Vaelira looked up at the thick blanket of clouds blotting out the sun. Not a single ray of light broke through, not a glimmer of warmth.
Someone had summoned a demon here, had done so knowing Kolborn would be standing apart from the others, taking shelter from the rain. What threat did he pose? He’d been watching her, reporting back to the Queen, but why would the summoners care about that?
But he wasn’t the only one watching. She didn’t know who was reporting to Elijah, and that terrified her more than the blood. What if Elijah had… No. Impossible.
Her legs buckled and she sank into the mud, leaning back on her arms as she tilted her face towards the sky and tried to imagine the rain washing it all away. The metallic taste. The blood. The questions. There was no space left for rational thought, only the echo of a wet slap in the mud.
Inside Jurah’s office, Vaelira sat in silence beside the fire, a thick blanket draped around her shoulders. The warmth did nothing to thaw the chill in her bones.
Jurah sat at his desk, drafting the official report.
She’d already told him everything, every surreal moment, but she couldn’t make herself leave.
The thought made her even more tired, and Jurah hadn’t asked her to go, so she stayed, reliving the last few moments of Kolborn’s life over and over until she started to question what she had seen.
She hadn’t even reached for her sword, or her new dagger.
She could have thrown it, but she’d forgotten it was there.
It still didn’t feel like a part of her, not in the way it should.
If she’d had her bow she could have made the shot, but she’d never replaced it after losing it before they reached Allen, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have had it with her at the training field.
Even her power hadn’t answered her call.
Fear is the death of essensia.
A knock sounded. Jurah set down his pen and stood to answer it. He spoke quietly with someone in the hallway, stepped out, and shut the door behind him.
Vaelira glanced to the desk, then back to the door. Slowly, she let the blanket slip from her shoulders and crossed the room, then lowered herself into Jurah’s chair and began to read the report.