Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Stella sends us off on small missions every day, while we make our way to a more distant part of the Disputed Lands. We try to stay ahead of the other teams, but with only small missions, it’s nearly impossible.
Mace checks the rankings a dozen times a day. ‘How are we supposed to pull ahead if Stella only sends us on foraging missions?’ he says. ‘We’re practically tied with Teams Silver and Bronze.’
I can’t believe how competitive Warriors are – but I suppose it’s ingrained into them, from the moment they start training, when their powers manifest. They’re top of the food chain – and they constantly need to reassert their position.
I used to think Warriors were arrogant. I didn’t realise they were encouraged to be like that. That superiority was a skill to be honed, just like sword fighting.
Xandra paces around the camp, like a caged lioness. ‘We’ve been training for this for years. We’re supposed to show the extent of our abilities, but how can we do that, when all we do is hunt and gather rosemary?’
None of us is bold enough to say what we think: that this is some sort of punishment for having been in that cave, and for having completed that mission. As if it’s somehow our fault that we’d been sent there.
‘Don’t worry, Team. Central Command is bound to send us into something big one of these days,’ Allen says.
I smirk at him. Nice try.
Allen winks. Better than nothing.
Mace catches our exchange and scowls.
Allen clears his throat. ‘Since we have nothing better to do, how about a little training?’
‘Good idea,’ Mace says. ‘Do you want to take over, Allen?’
‘Do I have to?’ Allen says, eyebrows scrunching.
‘Fine,’ says Mace, then pops into his tent and picks up his packed bedroll. ‘Let’s go, Ellie.’
I sigh. Though I’m thrilled that Mace doesn’t want me off the team anymore, training is gruelling.
Even if the protocols Allen sent him haven’t provided any relevant information, Mace has set up an intricate schedule that he refines every day with new tortures, adding strength exercises and the basics of combat training, to the usual menu of trying to shape my power into anything else but a shield.
My entire body aches constantly from the prolonged sessions, and my core of magic feels depleted in a way it’s never felt before.
Sometimes, the team takes turns with attacking my shield, and we always get to the same outcome: Mace’s magic, combined with mine, is doing a thing that we can’t seem to grasp or steer, while Julian, Allen and Xandra get tossed back the moment their weapons touch my dome.
After the first time it happened, Xandra refused to take any more part in my training.
There’s still a lot we can’t figure out about my power.
A few days ago, Mace got the frenzied look of a tiny hamster who can’t stop spinning and spinning in a wheel, and tested what my magic can do against other materials.
He tossed branches at me, shoes, even his own backpack.
They either slid off my dome, or they were repelled back in a way that made us none the wiser about what my magic was actually made of.
Mace went on to explain to me how their own swords are made of radiation of different frequencies – I think he threw in something about light, too.
Today, Mace sets up a dummy. It’s basically a huge stick, which he plants in the ground, covered with his own bedroll.
‘We’re going to do an exercise today that I call “the jousting knight”,’ he says.
‘Summon your shield and charge the dummy in a run. If you can repel other Warriors with your magic, this might come in handy in a fight.’
I smile – this is indeed a good idea, but… ‘The jousting knight?’ I say. ‘You’re just messing with me.’
‘Apprentice Errington,’ he barks. ‘Stop complaining and get into position.’ His eyes are glimmering with mischief.
‘You’re a sadist,’ I say, but charge at the dummy with the raised shield, again and again.
When it flares, my power singes the leaves on the ground and the corner of his bedroll, but I can’t seem to control when my magic changes its quality. After half an eternity of charging and jousting, I lean against a tree trunk, trying to catch my breath. ‘I need a break,’ I say.
It’s not easy to run, while trying to keep a steady shield up.
I do feel better, though. Knowing there is something I can do to strike back, no matter how small, and that I can support my team in a fight.
I know it will come to that – the face-offs between the teams are almost always broadcast at The Citadel, too, since they’re so hugely popular.
People place bets on the team who they think will win the Test Missions and watch any snippet that Central Command deems appropriate for viewing.
I wonder what they’ve seen of me so far. Running headfirst towards a blanket hung on a stick? Maybe not my finest moment.
Mace plants himself in front of me, feet spread wide apart. ‘You said you wanted to learn how to fight, that you don’t need protection. What’s wrong now? Changed your mind?’
‘I did say that, didn’t I?’ More than a week ago, right after we completed our first mission.
‘Yup,’ he says, folding his arms. ‘That’s why I decided to help you train.’
My brain decides to go blank. There’s no way that Mace paid so much attention to everything I’ve said and tried to make it happen for me.
The truth of it sparkles somewhere deep in my chest.
Combined with that grim, fierce look on his face?
Butterflies explode in my stomach.
He must see it on my face, because his expression softens. He steps towards me. ‘Ellie,’ he breathes.
There’s something in the way he says my name. Like he’s asking a question. I reach out for him the moment he unfolds his arms, and we weave our fingers together. Warmth spreads through my entire body. This is how we first learned skating – hand in hand, keeping each other from falling.
I hold on to him tight and find his eyes. It feels like finding him, after such a long time. Like finally getting a glimpse of all those emotions, which he usually keeps penned up behind walls and walls and walls.
Since that evening in the bathroom, we never quite acknowledged how close we used to be, and I wonder if it was the same for him as it was for me.
I feel like I never truly got over being ripped away from him – did he wonder, years later, about me, too?
Did he ever think about me, even a bit, before I was catapulted back into his life?
‘Do you remember—’ I begin, but he takes a step back and releases my hand.
He rubs at his nape. ‘We should head back to camp.’
Before I even have a chance to reply, he’s striding towards the tents.
I hurry after him, unsure what happened.
Mace could get like this, suddenly closed off, and nothing helped, except one thing: me ruthlessly gnawing at his patience, by asking again and again what was wrong, not giving up until he told me.
I’m half inclined to do that now – though chances are minimal that he’d actually tell me, not with the rest of the team around us – when Julian intercepts me.
‘Good. You’re here.’ He tosses me my backpack and I catch it at the last second.
‘Stella is sending the two of us on a scouting mission. We need to plant new sensors. I took the liberty to pack your things up.’ He lifts his hand over his head, steering me towards a blackberry bush.
‘We’re off,’ he calls to the rest of the team, and then lowers his voice. ‘Careful, there are thorns everywhere.’
‘What sensors?’ I ask, still trying to catch my footing.
‘The Pikenians love to wreck the sensors we use to keep an eye on the Disputed Lands, so we need to replace them. There’s an area, not far from here, where we’d be going in blind, so we need to watch our backs.’
The next thought rocks through me like an earthquake. ‘You mean, there could be enemy Warriors? Somewhere near us?’
Julian slashes a hand through the air in dismissal. ‘I doubt Stella would send us into the enemy’s maw. If she blacked out a portion of the map, it doesn’t mean that the sensors aren’t actually working. And we’re pretty far away from the border. But we could run into other teams.’
‘How reassuring,’ I say.
He grins. ‘I’ll take the front, you be ready to summon your shield at any point,’ he says. ‘We should be fine.’
‘Where do we even get the sensors?’ I ask, still dumbstruck. There’s so much I don’t know about the Disputed Lands.
‘They’re in my backpack,’ Julian says. ‘Scouting is my specialisation, so sensors are part of my standard equipment. And this is the sort of routine mission we’ll be sent into, once we graduate.’
‘Maybe you will, as a Warrior,’ I mutter.
I try to think of where I saw myself before this mission started, and I realise that maybe I had no dreams, no hopes, no clear representation of my future. I’d been more than happy to put my life and the decisions about my path in Stella’s hands, and implicitly, in the hands of Central Command.
When did I become this pliable creature, blindly walking a path set out for me? I was raised to be like this, there is no doubt, and I wonder how many people like me are within The Citadel.
I wonder what it is that I wish for myself, and what, exactly, I am fighting for. My magic revealed no special affinity for any of the Quarters I’ve ever been in. But aside from that, if I had the freedom, what would I choose to be?
Maybe a position where I could work in close collaboration with Stella – I know how to coax the most out of her, her kinks and the subtleties of working with her. Or maybe something organisational, in close cooperation with the Command Room?
But then I’d have to work with Central Command.