Chapter 14 #2
Yvonne leans in. “My Pops has been working in the nightstone mines since before I was born. He says any nightstone with a brown patina has been diluted with iron. The pure stuff should be matte black.”
“A blade is a blade,” Kalden says.
Yvonne continues, “But untempered iron jeopardizes more than the purity. It might make the weapon more brittle.”
I wave an arm at a section of untarnished swords. “So, any of these, then?”
Kalden releases a grunt. “Longer blades will enable you to defend yourself while keeping some distance between you and your attacker, but they’re heavy and will slow your movement.”
Gem moves to shove her hands into her pockets before remembering that our bodysuits have none. “What weapon do you recommend, then?”
“For you . . .” He leans to the right, scooping up a thinner, more tapered blade. “A poniard should suffice. It’s slender, so it won’t weigh you down. And the nine-inch blade is more than enough to impair your opponent, should it come to that.”
Kalden shifts the poniard’s hilt into Gem’s open palm, and she tests its weight, twirling the weapon before slowly thrusting it towards my stomach.
“Got ya!”
Though the narrow tip is gentle as it presses into my leathers, my spine curls inward as I groan dramatically, “How could you?”
Kalden’s brow pulls more taut, but he voices no critique while arming himself with two throwing knives.
“Really? You’re not gonna give us a warning about how ‘if that’s really your form, you’ll both be goners’?” I lower my voice to mock his deep timbre.
He ignores me, and Gem snorts before securing the accompanying leather scabbard around her waist.
I lift onto my tiptoes, reaching up to grab an identical blade from the wall.
Kalden steps in front of me. “You’re too slow to use this effectively. The blade cuffs would be better suited.”
“The what?”
He twists, grabbing two of the smaller weapons from the wall.
“These straps wrap around your wrist and forearm,” he explains while tugging my left hand through the cuff, and I’m grateful for the layer of leather gloves separating my skin from his sweltering touch.
He tightens the bands so the steel-plated mechanism rests firmly against the top of my arm.
“And see this wired ring? If you put that around your finger and flick your wrist, it’ll release the folded blades. ”
He demonstrates the motion, and I mimic it, jumping when the two nightstone blades spring outward on each side of my wrist. I repeat the motion, and the blades tuck themselves back into place.
“Piercing something vital might be trickier with these, but you could easily sever an artery just by doing what comes naturally, like flailing.” Kalden heaves a breath that sounds suspiciously like a snicker before securing the second blade cuff to my right arm.
“Erratic movements might even dissuade your opponent from trying to disarm you.”
I can admit that his logic is sound. A weapon that requires little to no strategy on my part is likely the best fit for me.
Plus, the tight formation of the blades near my palm could make for a good excuse, should I need to explain why a Sol would flinch from my touch if I succeed in releasing a solar flare.
But does he have to be such an ass about what I can and can’t do?
Once both blade cuffs are in place, I rotate my arms in front of me, acclimating to the sight and feel of the weapons.
Gem arches a brow. “Are you sure that will be enough? Those blades look tiny.”
“Like yours is much bigger,” I say, tilting my chin.
“Bigger than yours,” she retorts.
Kalden interjects. “They won’t cause as much damage to an attacker as a poniard or a sword, but they won’t rely on a tight grip or stamina, which is why they’re the best option for Orelle.
The only drawback is that she won’t be able to wield a second weapon, since most wrist movements will trigger the release.
But considering that she lacks the proficiency required to wield a longer blade, it’s not much of a concession. ”
I flick my right hand, taunting him by lifting the unfolded blade inches from his face. “You should watch what you say to an armed lady.”
Kalden’s pupils dilate as they narrow in first on the nightstone, then on me, and the corner of his mouth twitches up ever so slightly.
“Sun’s pits, Orelle!” Gem tugs downward on my arm, warily eying the blade cuffs while whispering, “You can’t threaten him like that.”
“Relax. I was joking,” I say, retracting the blades.
“I’m not sure he finds you waving a sharp weapon in his face funny.”
Kalden’s hint of a smirk deepens. “It’s a little funny.”
Gem looks between us before rolling her eyes.
“W-When will we get to come home?” Twilynn asks, blanching at the dagger in her quivering hand.
The commander peers through his glasses. “After you eliminate the threat.”
“But what does that mean?” Gem presses. “What if we reach our target, and there’s nothing there? Can we just come back?”
He flips through a pocket-sized version of our constitution, as if he hadn’t thought to memorize the Hunt’s conditions of return, because no one truly expects us to return.
“I, um—”
As someone who has studied it yearly on the eve of selection, I interrupt his blustering.
“The drafted soldiers may return under the following condition: for each Huntress remaining alive at the time of repatriation, the irrefutable proof of one Sol destroyed by each requestor’s hand must be presented at the Gate, thus furthering suitable circumstances for the city of Caligo to emerge and establish a secure fortress impenetrable from future attacks. ”
I glance at Gem, hoping she pays close attention to these next words.
“Requestors may also be repatriated if they are found to survive for more than seven days outside of the Gate; however, the requestor will be dishonorably received. A trial may be held to determine whether the circumstances of their return are defensible or an act of dereliction of duty, but they cannot be denied access to the city, emergency medical care, or the right to legal representation.”
“So, if one of us kills ten Sols, we can all come back?” Twilynn asks, perking up a little as she glances at Kalden.
The commander shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, that’s not how the rules are interpreted.
If there are ten of you alive, all ten need to be at the Gate with proof that each of you killed a Sol.
The cameras in your helmets will allow us to see who has accomplished their mission. It’s everyone or no one.”
Pinpricks trace down the back of my neck and along my spine as the eyes of the other Huntresses slide to me.
Each of us holds the fate of nine others in our hands, and mine are too slow, too weak.
Even if by some miracle the others could kill enough Sols, the only way they’d be welcomed back into the city without the threat of a trial is if I kill one too . . . or if I die.
The grim set of their jaws tells me they’ve come to similar conclusions.
“We’re expected to kill almost every single Sol in the area?
It might not even be possible to make sure everybody is able to kill one without going past the northern edge of the dunes.
” Gem’s green irises flare. “It could take weeks. We won’t be able to fit enough food in these knapsacks to hold us over that long. ”
The Commander of the Guard straightens, rolling his shoulders back. “You will face hardship, but duty is not without sacrifice.”
What sacrifices have you made? I clamp my mouth shut, keeping the question contained in my mind, not without effort.
Unlike us, most guards will never know the misfortune of direct encounters with our greatest enemy.
They limit their outside patrols to the evening hours and cower behind the nightstone barrier during the day.
To my understanding, the commander never even leaves the lower city.
What does he know of sacrifice beyond a sore ass and boredom?
The commander’s voice resounds once more through the war room. “All of your questions have been answered, Huntresses . . . and Hunter. You are soldiers of Caligo now. Your city expects you to act like it. Show bravery and courage in battle. And when your time comes, die with dignity.”
That’s all we are—a sacrifice meant to appease, not to live. My fingers clench, finding minimal comfort in the whirring release of the curved blades.
To my right, Kalden’s irises are bright with unspoken judgement.
Lifting his chin, the commander takes note of the piercing intensity. He grabs onto the handcuffs dangling from his belt as he prowls forward through those surrounding the table. “Tonalli, is it? Do you have something to add?”
Before Kalden spits out one of his reckless critiques, I nudge my elbow into his side. This isn’t the right place or person. The guard who “oversaw” our training might’ve dismissed Kalden’s accusatory tone, but as the head of Caligo’s armed forces, Commander Guffian may not be so forgiving.
Molten gold eyes lock onto mine before flicking back up. “No.”
With a satisfied nod, the commander releases the handcuffs and clasps a hand on Kalden’s shoulder. “Mind your face, boy. Your attitude is unbecoming for a man of Caligo.”
“I agree, sir,” Kalden grits through his teeth.
A hunched-forward Coraline Lunam perks up when she spots us rounding the bend of the main spiral stairwell.
The massive moon pendant illuminates a small crowd gathered around the perimeter of the landing chamber. Only Caligo’s most influential are invited to witness the official departure of the Hunt in person.
Still, I scrutinize the faces, searching for my parents or Taur.