City of reckoning, p.22
City of Reckoning, page 22
“What?” Kindy peeked over her upturned bowl.
“You eat worse than my little brother,” she said, covering her mouth. Her smile faded.
Jensen tried to lighten the mood again. “She’s always been a terrible nob—” He paused, seeing the warning look on Kindy’s face. With a nervous chuckle, he peeked around to see if anyone had overheard his near-blunder, but no one was paying the four friends much mind. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Ama says she eats like a pig.”
Carinna snorted. Kindy shoved her brother, and hid her face behind her bowl, wiping her chin on the back of her hand.
There was a subtle edge to all their joking—the barest hint of something arbitrary and fake. No one wanted to talk about what had happened last night, but the ghost of it was there among them—an unspoken shadow tainting their voices and mannerisms. They all seemed content to keep it that way, for now.
Lukis gave Kindy a shy, sideways smile, and busied himself with his stew. She could tell, in glancing, that he ate even sloppier than she did, but no one else seemed to notice.
Abruptly, all the conversations around them died down, and two hundred heads turned in one direction. Kindy followed the communal line of sight, and like everyone else, found herself staring.
An army of Mosori soldiers had entered the compound and were now marching past the dining area. She’d never seen so many Mosori at once—much less organized and armed. She knew they were Mosori, rather than Sabani, because of the wolf-accompanied, elite warriors scattered among them. The borosai.
Kindy couldn’t keep her eyes off those wolf-warrior pairs. A small shudder passed through her. She’d heard all sorts of stories about the brutality of borosai teams. Would she get to see them in action?
As the tribe nearly finished passing by, one girl near the back stood out to Kindy. She seemed about her age, and she walked with the poise of a queen and the attitude of a confident killer. A massive white and gray wolf walked by her side, and a golden wing-tipped comb poked out of a tight bun at the back of her head. As the rest of the tribe continued on, the girl stopped—along with several other jewelry-clad Mosori—to engage in conversation with a couple Dorish commanders. When the girl turned, Kindy saw a belt of a dozen blades—some long as her forearm, some short as a finger—around her curvaceous waist.
Observing this girl gave Kindy a funny feeling. Intimidation, maybe? Jealousy?
I bet she could kill me just by looking at me, if she wanted, Kindy thought.
To her terror, as if hearing her thoughts, the girl cast a casual glance toward the tables, and her dark eyes locked with Kindy’s.
Kindy’s heart made a violent lurch, and she glanced away, face flushing as if she’d stuck it in a forge. When she peeked back at the girl, she was still in focused conversation.
Had she imagined the moment?
But before Kindy could consider it further, she became aware of Commander Arjis—that tall, hairy guy—headed straight for her table. Officer Felder was not far behind him. It seemed like they were headed straight for her, in fact. Commander Arjis had a smug, eager look on his face.
Scalp prickling, Kindy turned back toward her stew bowl. To her disappointment, there was only a couple sips left, and the broth was cold now. She grimaced as she slurped up the rest.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed the commander prop his leg up on the bench next to her. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knee.
“Officer Felder tells me he brought a Nocturan from Taevro.”
The table went quiet again, and Kindy felt dozens of eyes fix on her. She gazed at the bottom of her bowl, wishing to shrink to the size of a chopped vegetable and dive down into milky broth.
Jensen shifted closer to her, just slightly, and touched her arm under the table. It wasn’t much, but that small action brought her a wink of comfort and a surge of strength.
“Girl, look at me when I speak to you.”
Part of Kindy bristled at being addressed thus, but then she remembered—she was supposed to be a merchant, not a noblewoman. She met the commander’s eyes. There was something about the way he smiled down at her that repulsed her. Automatically, she leaned back.
He either didn’t notice her discomfort, or didn’t care. “Well, let’s see!”
Kindy flinched. Everyone was staring at her. This felt so… violating. Her hands trembled as she reached for the drawstrings of her cloak.
No, she reminded herself. I don’t need to feel ashamed. My wings are beautiful. My wings are me.
She slipped off her cloak and let her wings stretch out, nearly poking Jensen in the eye by accident. Whispers passed around the table, then spread to the table next to them as more people turned to stare—some with simple interest, many with disgust and sneers.
Kindy shrank in on herself, feeling hollow and exposed, like a curious insect caught by a small, careless child. Her delicate limbs did not seem safe in that child’s rough, grubby hands, or under his leering, unfeeling gaze.
Across the table, Carinna and Lukis watched her with concern.
“Hmm.” Commander Arjis touched her wing, startling her. He pulled it out to its full extension, but she jerked it back on instinct and scowled at him. “They’re rather small, aren’t they. How high can you fly, girl?”
Kindy’s mouth went dry. Oh no.
The moment of truth was here, too soon, and she wasn’t ready for it.
“I asked you a question.”
Kindy swallowed. She was trembling hard now, the ache behind her eyes making it hard to think. “I…” She could only manage a choked, barely audible voice. “I can’t.”
Commander Arjis turned his head and gestured to his ear. “Speak up.”
She forced her voice to a slightly higher volume. “I… I can’t fly.”
Horrible silence gripped the crowd of onlookers, like a god had suddenly snatched away all their voices. Then, just a beat later, the tables burst into laughter. The commander’s guffaw was loudest and most derisive of all.
“Officer,” he said, “is this some sort of joke?”
Officer Felder, standing just behind him, said nothing, though his mouth tightened in a frown.
Kindy’s face burned.
“You had the audacity to sign up to fight Nocturans,” the commander said, addressing Kindy again. “You dared to show your face here. But you can’t even fly.”
Across the table, Carinna gazed at Kindy with sympathy. She looked like she wanted to dash over, give her a big hug, and sweep her away. But knowing that did little to make Kindy feel better.
Her headache throbbed now like a gaping wound, the craving for dathal sharpening as anxiety pulsed and spiraled within her.
“What are you even good for, then?” Commander Arjis lifted up one of her skinny arms, then let it flop back down. “You certainly aren’t a, well, intimidating warrior, that’s for sure.” He laughed at her again, like she was the best joke he’d ever heard.
Instantly, Kindy’s fear and shame shifted into defensiveness and anger. She glared at him.
“I can glide a little. I have claws. And night vision.” Each word came out like the thrust of a dagger.
“Do you?” He said it like she was a child that had just stated something incredibly obvious, and after a moment, she realized that was exactly what she’d done.
Oh, gods. The gravity of the situation was beginning to emerge through the fog of denial in her mind. She’d reached the end of the line. Her worst fears were being realized. She’d made a mistake by enlisting—her last mistake. Oh, gods. Oh, gods.
“Well,” the commander said, “I need to know how I can use you. If I can use you.” Kindy’s stomach dropped, and his smile twisted into a conniving smirk. “I have an idea.”
He straightened. “Officer Felder, I need another warrior. How about…” He scanned the grounds around him, and his gaze snagged on the group of Mosori and Dorins in conversation nearby. “How about the young chieftain herself! Lasía Mae’olo. Bring her to the combat pens.”
“Yes, ote.” Officer Felder slipped away.
“You,” the commander pointed at Kindy, “follow me. And,” he raised his voice, “anyone else who wants a show.”
Kindy started after him, every muscle in her body taut as a bow string. All two hundred of the soldiers she’d been eating with came along eagerly, some laughing in anticipation.
Jensen stayed close beside her. He made a subtle gesture—a sign in their secret, sibling code. You all right?
She started to nod yes, but then opted for honesty, and shook her head no.
Jensen didn’t seem to know what to say. He cast a glare in Commander Arjis’s direction.
Kindy was suddenly and deeply glad her brother was with her.
As they crossed the compound, more curious soldiers joined the procession—mostly young kuchore. At last, they arrived at a square pen at the edge of a field. It was about ten yards wide, closed in by a towering fence that stretched above Kindy’s head, and contained two bins of blunt, wooden weapons.
After a moment, Officer Felder arrived with the chieftain. Kindy gave her a double-take.
It was that borosai girl with the white-and-gray wolf.
Lasía considered the pen, the audience, and the commander with thinly concealed annoyance, as if the situation were both inconvenient and beneath her. When she noticed Kindy’s wings, though, she went still. Her expression softened, and there was a twitch of something Kindy couldn’t place—sadness? Pity?
Picking up on Kindy’s stare, Lasía cocked an eyebrow. For the second time today, Kindy tore her gaze away, heartbeat pattering.
“Here’s how this works,” Commander Arjis boomed. “We’re going to do a little test. There are only two rules—super simple. First rule: Do not bring any weapons into the pen. You can use anything already inside the pen: wooden swords, spears, shields, your bare hands, you name it. Second rule: The match ends when one opponent yields or is incapable of further combat.”
“Wait,” Kindy blurted. Her stomach tightened, and her head felt light. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”
The commander smiled at her in dry amusement, like she wasn’t very bright. “I’m pitching you against the chieftain.”
23
Kindy blinked, thinking she must have heard wrong. “Her?” A wild desperation clawed at her throat. “You want me to fight her?”
“I want you to fight Nocturans, actually, but we’re going to see how we can make do.” Commander Arjis nodded at Officer Felder.
“But—but I can’t go against her,” she stammered as Officer Felder patted her down for weapons. Of course, there were none. “She’s… I’m…”
“Let’s see,” Commander Arjis said, opening a gate to the pen. “You’re both about the same age. She’s a Mosori chieftain; you’re merchant-class. She’s a borosai chieftain; you’re a Nocturan Aberrant. I think you’re perfect for each other.” He gestured for her to enter the pen.
“But—”
Commander Arjis pushed Kindy through the gate and slammed it shut behind her, rattling the fence’s tall, wooden beams, and twisted a key into a lock chained around the gate’s handle. It clicked audibly.
On the other side of the pen, Lasía nimbly removed her weapon belt, then the knives in her boots, the knives strapped to her arms, and the knives around her thighs. She set them all against the fence, and started to head for the gate on her side—then stopped, lifted her pointer finger, and laughing softly, slipped another knife from her upper arm. She handed it to Officer Felder, her lips compressed in suppressed humor.
Kindy glowered.
Lasía waltzed through the opposite gate, wolf at her heels. Officer Felder slammed and locked it behind her, but she seemed unaffected.
For a minute, both girls faced each other in tense silence.
Lasía’s long lashes fluttered as she scanned Kindy head-to-toe, sizing her up. Self-conscious, Kindy pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. In addition to being an intimidating warrior, Lasía was beautiful. Kindy couldn’t help but compare her own lanky frame, flat chest, and dull hair to the chieftain’s graceful bearing, angled cheekbones, and tight curls. Kindy’s military clothing looked squarish and baggy, while Lasía’s green tunic was snug and fitted, complimenting her feminine curves.
I’m about to get butchered, Kindy thought bitterly, and all I’m thinking about is beauty.
Lasía’s wolf sat in the corner. Kindy’s eyes darted back and forth between Lasía and her wolf.
“Don’t worry,” the chieftain said, using her voice for the first time. She spoke with flawless feminine charm, even more lilting because of her accent, but addressed Kindy with detached stiffness. “Akiro won’t eat you. He’s just here to watch.”
The wolf Akiro flattened his ears, but as he bared his sharp teeth, he almost seemed to smile.
“All… right,” Kindy muttered.
Lasía calmly sorted through the weapon bin at her end. She finally picked up two short, wooden axes and swung them lightly, testing their weight. She twirled the axes around her wrist and slashed the air in a series of quick, complex maneuvers.
Show off, Kindy thought, trying to feel annoyed rather than scared out of her wits. But it wasn’t working.
Heart thumping, Kindy fumbled through her own weapon bin. “Uh…” She randomly picked up a short, wooden sword, then put it back down. She grabbed a round shield, held it in her right hand, then clumsily switched it to her left. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing.
On the other end of the pen, Lasía was eerily still, and watched Kindy like a cat eyeing a mouse.
Kindy snatched up a longer sword and arbitrarily held it out in front of her, hiding behind her shield as much as she could. There was a slight trembling in her hands; she couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or withdrawal.
She wondered what, exactly, the commander expected to get out of this. Certainly, he didn’t think she could possibly win. And what did that mean for her?
“Are you ready?” Lasía said without inflection, or much interest.
Something dark soured within Kindy. Somehow, this was the worst indignity: the way this girl looked at her like she was boring. A too-easy obstacle that wasn’t even worth the effort.
Kindy squared her shoulders and held her sword out firmly. “Yeah.”
Lasía nodded in acknowledgement. She stepped to her right. Reacting, Kindy did the same. One step at a time, they continued to circle each other, moving slowly around the pen.
In a blink, Lasía flashed forward. One of her axes hooked on the top of Kindy’s shield and yanked it down; the other collided with her head.
Kindy sprang a few steps back. Lasía hadn’t hit her that hard, but she felt dazed. Dull pain pounded in her skull. It had happened so fast. How was she supposed to defend herself from that?
She had barely gotten her bearings before Lasía snapped forward again. Another axe arced for her head; Kindy lifted her shield to block it, panic exploding in her chest. The loud clack of wood on wood echoed in the field around them.
What Kindy didn’t realize was that, simultaneously, Lasía’s second axe was swinging toward her now-exposed stomach. The wooden edge slammed into her gut, and she doubled over with a low grunt.
Kindy staggered backwards, air raking through her lungs. Lasía’s mouth curved in a tiny mischievous smile.
She’s toying with me, Kindy realized with terror. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She hasn’t even started.
“Come on, Nocturan,” someone taunted from outside the pen. “What have you got?”
Kindy set her jaw, hoisted her sword, and attempted a slash at Lasía’s head. Lasía knocked her sword away effortlessly, hooking it with the curve of her axe, and lunged with her other axe. Kindy ducked behind her shield, only to be swept off her feet. She thudded hard to the ground, pain shooting up her tailbone and spine.
“Use your wings!” someone shouted, drawing laughs from the crowd.
“Fly away from her, demon!” another echoed.
Frustration and humiliation welling up within her, Kindy staggered to her feet and charged at Lasía with a roar.
Again, the chieftain reflected all her blows easily. She moved with the agility of a dancer, so rapidly Kindy could hardly keep track. Before Kindy knew it, she’d been struck in the side, just under her ribs, and she shuffled backwards, wincing and gasping in pain.
More jeers came from the audience, and something in Kindy fractured. Tears sprang to her eyes. She risked turning her face away, embarrassed to let anyone see—even her opponent.
Weak, stupid, she thought, making a quick, discreet wipe of her eyes. Stop crying. Stop it.
She swallowed back the rest of her tears, inhaled sharply, and turned to face Lasía. But to her surprise, she didn’t find her gloating. The chieftain’s expression had softened, and as her eyes drifted to Kindy’s wings, there was the twitch of a frown.
In Kindy’s confusion, she hesitated. Neither girl moved.
“We don’t have all day,” Commander Arjis rumbled. And this was true: The setting sun had begun to bleed through the line of trees beyond the military compound, and a brisk chill had entered the air.
Lasía stalked toward Kindy and made a lazy swing for her head. Kindy sidestepped easily. Lasía delayed her next move, so Kindy took a tentative slash at her legs.
Lasía stepped back. Her expression was still. Almost defiant.
What was she doing?
They continued circling each other; a lunge here, hack here, parry there. Each time, they blocked or avoided the other’s weapons. It became quickly obvious that Lasía wasn’t trying to hurt Kindy now. She wasn’t trying at all.
She’s letting me win, Kindy thought. She didn’t understand this. But in that moment, she realized she didn’t want to hurt her, either. This was war; shouldn’t she get over such a hesitation?
Yet, she couldn’t see Lasía as her enemy. She was just another girl like her. Lasía’s comb resembled the one Kindy wore to the dance. Lasía’s black ribbon-based gloves reminded Kindy of those she used to don.
Besides, this was just practice, right? How hard was she supposed to hit? What did Commander Arjis expect of her?
