Chapter Five

Ilivarra walked down the hall of the building. The corridor was narrow and seemingly endless, but the drow knew better. She reached the end of the hallway, coming face-to-face with a blank stone wall. Ilivarra reached into her pocket and took out a small bag. She poured the contents—a fistful of strange red powder—onto her hands. She then used the powder to trace an elaborate symbol onto the wall. The symbol began to glow with crimson light, and the wall soon shattered.

Ilivarra stepped into the room. Five other students stood in the center of the room. One female drow stood on a platform, six more drow females surrounding her. Ilivarra assumed this particular drow was their head instructor. Two other females caught her attention. One for the look in her eyes that was cruel even for a drow, and the other for the black patch that covered her right eye.

"Vendui." The instructor greeted. "I am called Dilafae, and I am your head instructor." There was an eerie calm about her as she spoke, one that sent a shiver up Ili's spine. "You will all spend a term of five years at this academy. At the end of this term, the surviving student shall be graduated."

Has the life of an assassin left her so cold and detached that she does not feel emotion anymore? Ili wondered as Dilafae continued to speak. "During the term, you all shall spend half of the day with your instructor and the other half with other instructors. Their names are Akorlara, Molthrae, Gela, Urlnitra, Maya," she looked at the trainer with the black patch, "and Malice." she gestured to the cruel-looking woman.

Dilafae continued, "They will teach you as they see fit. I suggest that you obey them, for there are consequences if you do not." Her icy eyes surveyed the students. "We shall now hold a test to learn of your abilities. This test will allow us to grant you new names, and will allow our instructors to choose which of you they wish to train."

The test was simple. All the students were required to do was defeat a summoned bugbear. Ilivarra had decided to use her skills in the field of stealth to defeat the creature.

"Zar Baste." Dilafae said calmly as Ili finished. "Now that all of the names have been given, the instructors will chose. Malice, you will go first. Choose between Qee'lak Pielch, Su'aco Sunduiri, Fuer'yon Elggur, Olath Errdegahr, Renor Orbb, or Zar Baste."

Malice looked at the students, her cold gaze lingering longest on Ilivarra. "I choose Zar Baste!" She cried.

XXXXX

Ilivarra walked with Malice to her rooms. Malice stopped at a door and turned around, a glare adorning her face. "This is the entrance to the rooms." She led Ili into the first room. It was bare except for three rooms.

Malice began to speak, "We will use this room as a gymnasium. The first two doors lead to the weapon room and my personal quarters. You are not to go into either of them unless I say. If you do," Malice suddenly reached out and grabbed Ilivarra's throat. "The consequences will make you wish that Korve had killed you." Malice smiled as Ili's eyes widened. "Yes, I am well-aware of your past, Zar Baste." She released Ilivarra.

Ilivarra scowled and began rubbing her stinging neck. "If you know so much about me then why aren't you calling me by my name? It's Ilivarra by the way. But I understand how someone your age could forget."

With blinding speed, Malice spun around and punched Ilivarra in the stomach. The student involuntarily doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of her. Malice roughly grabbed Ilivarra by the hair and slammed her against the wall. Ilivarra clenched her teeth, tasting blood in her mouth as waves of pain shot through her head.

The instructor gave her a furious look. "I'll call you whatever the fuck I want. If I say, 'Bring me a knife, cock-sucking whore!' then you say 'Yes, mistress.' Now then, " Malice released Ilivarra. "Would you like to see your room?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, her tone falsely sweet.

"Yes."

Malice slapped Ilivarra across the face. "YES WHAT?"

"Yes, Mistress." Ilivarra said from behind clenched teeth. You fucking cunt. Rage boiled in Ilivarra's veins. No one had dared speak to her in such a way in four years.

"Let us go then."

Malice opened the door to Ilivarra's room. Inside, there was no floor. There was only a large pit filled with sharp spikes. In the center of the room, there was a small wooden platform that rose away from the spikes, stopping halfway between the ceiling and the pit. The platform was only large enough for a single person to lie down on and for three or four people to stand up on.

Ilivarra raised her brows. "Lovely. I suppose you--"

Malice reached out and grabbed her tongue before she could finish. "How hard is it to get a message through your damn skull? IF YOU MAKE ONE MORE SMARTASS COMMENT I'LL CUT OUT YOUR FUCKING TONGUE!" She let Ilivarra go. "Your sleeping arrangements do not matter anyway. For the first few weeks, there will be no sleeping at all. You will do nothing but train for twenty-four hours a day. And if you start feeling drowsy then remember this; killing someone in their sleep is easier than converting oxygen into carbon dioxide."

Ilivarra glared at her, her eyes smoldering with rage.

"We must do something before we can begin training." Malice gestured for Ilivarra to follow her to the weapon room. Ilivarra obeyed.

"Sit down." Malice commanded.

Ilivarra sat in the chair.

"Now then, Zar Baste," Malice took a pair of scissors off of one of the shelves of the room. "We're going to cut your hair."

Ili's jaw dropped. She almost spoke but held her tongue just in time.

Malice smiled. "Just a little. It now reaches nearly to your midriff. I'll make it reach just past your shoulders. I'll also straighten it."

Ili gave her a look of pure resentment as Malice walked behind her. The instructor swiftly untied the two braids that adorned Ilivarra's hair before turning around and grabbing a large object. Ili let out a shout of surprise as Malice dumped a bowl of ice-cold water on her head. The teacher smiled. "Oh I'm sorry. I should have warned you." She took out a comb and began to brush Ili's silver locks. "Such pretty hair. It almost seems shameful to cut."

Ili frowned, uneasiness coursing through her.

"Yes…a pair of rather sharp scissors are needed for your locks. As sharp as…oh I don't know, perhaps the weapons that gave you those scars on your face."

Ilivarra gritted her teeth. Shut up. Shut the hell up.

Malice chuckled and took out a pair of scissors. "I'd say these scissors could cut through adamantine if necessary. Something as soft as your hair will be simple to cut." She smiled. "I'll bet that bard of yours must have loved your hair. What was his name? Oh yes. Corran. I'll bet you loved the touch of his hands on your scalp. His hands must have been calloused from the musical instruments he played, but surprisingly soft when laced through your hair. Slowly running through your white locks until they reached your back, sliding down the smooth skin. Going lower and lower until you let out a gasp of pleasure."

Ilivarra clenched her fists, her nails digging into her skin and drawing blood.

Malice smirked. "You can say something, if you'd like."

"Is there a point to this?" Ili growled.

"All I wish to do is talk with you, Zar Baste. Harmless speech. Though you will share none of it, and be silent from now on." Malice said sharply before continuing.

A vicious smile curled the trainer's lips. "But of course, that feeling of pleasure was soon turned to pain wasn't it? The pain of despair, resentment, and agony as another touched you like that. This was a man you hated, yet he penetrated you in the same way as Corran. The pain you felt as Korve forced himself upon you was frightening, wasn't it? Or perhaps your reaction was merely a cover-up. Perhaps you secretly did not feel violated at all. The act which was committed upon you was not true violation at all. Perhaps you were secretly thrilled that another man wanted you badly enough to take you by force. Perhaps you enjoyed the rape."

This was the final straw. "You better shut your fucking mouth before I—AAAHHH!" Ilivarra cried out as the scissors sliced her cheek.

Malice shook her head. "I told you the scissors were sharp. You should not have attempted to turn around. No matter. You're finished now."

Ilivarra looked into the mirror that Malice had handed her. She saw that her hair was completely straight and fell just past her shoulders. She shot Malice a furious glare, no longer attempting to hide her anger.

A smile curled Malice's lips. "You're angry. I can see that. Come with me." Malice led her back into the gym. The instructor handed the student two knives. "If you can land a single blow on me then I will bow down and call you 'Mistress'. Now get busy, Zar Baste."

Ilivarra cautiously approached Malice. She swung her blade but Malice avoided it easily. Ilivarra attempted to strike once but Malice dodged again.

"Terrible! Absolutely terrible! I'm amazed that a weak fighter such as you managed to survive for four years after being buried alive!" Malice cried.

Ilivarra snarled and increased the ferocity of her attacks. I am not weak! I will be strong! I am strong! No one will dare tell me otherwise!

But it was of no use, for Malice continued to evade her attacks. "Hmph! Do you honestly think that you can defeat a mercenary such as Besair? You will never be strong enough!"

"Yes I will." Ilivarra snapped.

Malice hid a smile at her student's remark. Though she would never admit it, she was impressed. Ilivarra was impudent and unstable, every bit the animal the Valsharess had described her as. The woman fought like a wounded animal, determined to survive and filled with the rage of a devil. But Malice knew that this beast could be tamed, and transformed into a merciless bringer of death and destruction.

Ili aimed another slash at Malice. Malice avoided the attack, but the tie holding back her hair into a silver bun fell out as she moved.

Ilivarra smirked. "Look's like you're missing a hair tie."

"Looks like you're missing a child."

Utter rage filled Ilivarra's veins. She let out a scream of anger and attacked Malice. The instructor laughed as she continued to dodge. "Come on, childless mother! Fight me!"

Ilivarra continued to rain furious attacks on Malice. The instructor finally grew bored and decided to end it. With incredible ease, she knocked the knives out of Ilivarra's hands. She then tripped Ili and grabbed one of her arms, twisting it behind her back.

Ilivarra let out an involuntary scream of pain. Malice smiled. "Excruciating isn't it? ISN'T IT?" she bellowed, twisting Ilivarra's arm even more.

"YES!" Ilivarra cried.

"I could easily cut off your arm right now if I wanted to."

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

Malice cackled. "It's my arm now. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it!" She smiled. "You're helpless when you fight against me, aren't you?" She twisted it more. "AREN'T YOU?"

"YES!"

"Have you ever felt like this before?"

"YES!"

"It's like being at Korve's mercy again isn't it?"

"YES!"

"Would you like to possess such power? To be able to use it against your enemies and make them suffer the way that you have?"

"Yes!"

Malice released Ilivarra and allowed her to fall to the ground, clutching her arm in pain. "Excellent. We shall begin immediately. Are you ready, Zar Baste?"

Ilivarra's amethyst eyes locked with Malice's crimson.

"Yes."