7
Just breathe. This is just a tour of the fortress… there's nothing to be stressed about.
Tyme took a deep breath, following behind the rest. He scanned the hallways around him as they traveled, trying to relax by seeing how many artifacts he could recognize from the décor hanging on the walls in the guards' wing of the fortress.
Those crossbows…if they're that big, they would have used dragon tendon strings. That means they're probably from the last era of the war, but I would know for sure if I could get a closer look at the rivets—
"Tyme!" Reg's voice cut in, and Tyme blinked as he turned to see the others looking at him. He felt his face redden immediately, the anxiety that had been fading coming back in full force.
"Um…what?" he stammered, and Reg rolled his eyes.
"Jaqah was asking if you're okay," he pointed out. "Your eyes were all glazed over again."
"Don't worry about him," Syra was saying to the Captain of the Guard. "He's always like that—acting like the world is a breath away from falling apart."
"I see," Jaqah offered, and the way she was looking at Tyme made him want to curl up and die. "It's good for a guard to be alert…but take it too far, and you do yourself and those you're protecting a disservice."
It was all Tyme could do to continue standing at attention. "Right," he mumbled, feeling completely humiliated.
"You can relax, though," Jaqah continued. "This isn't a test. Leader Theodynn asked me to get you used to the Central Fortress. If you join our guard force, it will be good for you to be familiar with these areas."
"If?" Shirka repeated. She was walking closest to the Captain of the Guard, her expression pursed with confusion. "We were told that we definitely had permission to leave the South. Leader Theodynn said—"
"He gave you permission to transfer to the Central Fortress…but whether you'll join the guard force here is as much my decision as it is his," Jaqah explained.
"And what happens if you decide we don't make the cut?" Syra asked in her usual bored tone. Tyme winced, shooting the young woman a pointed look which she ignored.
"Then we'll find somewhere else to put you," Jaqah offered with a shrug. "Not everyone who comes here with hopes of joining the guard force is allowed into our ranks. I know in the south, Theodynn was in a position where he felt like he had to take on anyone who was willing…but here at the Central Fortress, things are different. We're highly selective of those who are allowed to secure the home of the Rulership." Her gaze fell on Tyme for a moment. "Not to mention, some people discover that they aren't quite cut out for the life of a guard."
Tyme looked away, his chest tight with shame. He scanned his companions' reactions to distract himself from Jaqah's piercing gaze. Reg's face was his usual mask of scowling confidence, and Syra still looked bored. Shirka's expression was the one who seemed to match Tyme's own anxiety the closest.
"Wait, hold up," Reg demanded. "You're saying that even after all our training, there's a chance you won't let us be guards here?" Reg demanded, and Jaqah glanced over at him.
"I'm saying that you'll be judged using the same criteria as anyone else who tries to join our ranks," Jaqah explained. "If you're hoping for special treatment just because Rook was the one who trained you, you'll be disappointed. Who trained you and who you know don't matter nearly as much as your capabilities."
Her words seemed to echo in Tyme's head, and he felt himself panicking. It was just like Gyro had said—they weren't going to be special here. They were just a bunch of novices and even after everything they'd been through, there was a chance they wouldn't even come close to measuring up. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, and he noticed Reg shooting him a concerned look that seemed to ask 'you good?'
"We wouldn't want to be judged on anything other than our capabilities." Despite the anxiety in her eyes, Shirka's tone was clear and confident. Unlike Tyme, she met Jaqah's gaze as she kept her head held high. "Of course the Central Fortress would have high standards…we expect nothing less. What we really want is a chance to prove that we definitely have what it takes to meet them."
"Here she goes again," Syra muttered, but Shirka ignored her as she continued.
"We appreciate your time in giving us a tour…but as the Captain of the Guard, your time is precious, and we probably can't expect to have one-on-one attention like this in the future. So…instead of spending our time today merely touring the fortress, why don't you let us show you our capabilities?"
Shirka… Tyme thought, studying his friend with another flash of anxiety. You can't throw your weight around here…did you just let everything Gyro said to us go in one ear and out the other?
"Your capabilities?" Jaqah repeated, and Shirka nodded.
"I mean, showing us around is honestly a waste of your time if we don't even end up becoming guards, right? Wouldn't it be better for us to spar with you, and give you a sense of what you have to work with?"
"And then when we beat you, you'll have to admit that we have what it takes," Reg added, puffing out his chest. Tyme grabbed the younger man's shoulder.
"Don't be an idiot," he hissed. "That's the Captain of the Guard—she's been in wars. We aren't going to beat her in a sparring match."
"Not with that attitude," Syra muttered, and Tyme glared at her.
"I have no intention of conducting your initiation test today," Jaqah said calmly, cutting into the argument. "You will have to wait for the proper time to initiate, just like everyone else."
"I wasn't meaning that you should make the decision today on whether we'll join your ranks," Shirka pressed, still not willing to give up. "I just meant that our time would be better spent sparring than touring. After all, I would assume you're the type of person who would know if someone has potential after a single match." Her eyes were gleaming with a familiar light, and Tyme had a bad feeling about all of it. "If you tell us today that we don't even have the potential needed to try for initiation… then we can all avoid wasting any more time…right?"
No one said anything for a few minutes as Jaqah studied them. Tyme waited for the Captain of the Guard to tell Shirka off for being so bold, but after a moment, Jaqah actually cracked a smile. "Well…I'll admit I've been wondering if any of you actually have potential, or if Theo's just attached himself to a couple of orphans. Still…I don't have the desire or the time for four separate sparring matches." She fixed Shirka with a challenging look. "I'll give you one."
Shirka blinked. "One…against all four of us?" she tried.
Jaqah snorted. "No. I'll spar with only one of you, if you're so adamant… but know that I'll base my opinion of all of your skills based on whoever I fight. If the skills are lacking, then I'll inform Leader Theodynn that none of you will be allowed to try out for the guard force here at the Central Fortress."
Shirka's expression clouded, and for the first time, she glanced at Tyme and the others. Give it up, he begged internally. This is not the kind of deal that we're going to benefit from. What if you lose, and we all get blacklisted?
"Just one of us?" Shirka repeated.
"Yes," Jaqah agreed. "Do you feel confident enough in your own abilities that you're willing to gamble the fate of your companions?"
"I'm not sure," Shirka admitted.
"I assumed as much," the Captain of the Guard offered as she turned to continue the tour. "Next time you're tempted to bargain, make sure—"
"Wait!" Shirka cut in, causing Jaqah to look toward her again. "I said I wasn't sure about my own capabilities. If you're willing to fight one of us, then we will accept your offer…but with an ultimatum like that, I won't be the one fighting you."
Jaqah blinked in surprise, and Tyme began to have a sinking feeling. Don't you dare, Shirka.
"Then who do you propose will take on the challenge?" Jaqah asked, and Shirka turned to face the young man at the back of the group.
"If you're only going to fight one of us…then it has to be Tyme."
Rook scanned the meal hall, looking for her recruits. She had assumed that she'd find them in the barracks, but when they weren't there, she wondered if Jaqah had brought them to get something to eat. She ignored the looks she got as she entered the room—as familiar as she was with the central fortress, and as familiar as the central fortress denizens were with her, there was definitely still tension in the air.
She wasn't able to locate the recruits, but as she caught sight of a figure with a head scarf sitting by himself on the other side of the room, she couldn't help but grin.
"Alan!"
He looked up as she waved, making her way over to where he was sitting. He waved back, and she didn't miss the brief smile that he was seemingly trying to hide.
"Just when I thought I'd be able to eat a meal in peace," he griped as she reached him, and Rook rolled her eyes.
"Oh please, as if seeing me wasn't immediately the best part of your day," she teased. "I didn't know you would be here! Last I heard, you and Haiven were out west."
"That was a while ago," Alan accused. "We've been in the East and the North since last we saw each other in person, you know."
"Has it really been that long?" Rook asked, but the more she thought about it, she realized he was right. "Ancients…time has been passing so fast lately, trying to get the south ready for the transition."
"I can imagine," Alan offered around another bite of his food. "How is all of that going?"
Rook shrugged. "As well as anyone can expect, I guess. But I don't really feel like talking about that—I feel like it's all anyone has talked about for months. I want to hear about you." She poked him in the side. "Have you gained weight? Or is this muscle? I almost didn't recognize you—that head scarf is the only thing that gave you away."
Alan scowled, smacking her hand away. "As a future member of the Rulership, I would think you'd know better than to harass fortress guests."
"Oh please…I'm no more a part of the rulership right now than you are simply a 'guest.' But seriously—you look different." She studied him while he continued eating. "You've let your hair grow out, but I don't know how you can stand to let it flop in your face like that."
"Doesn't really matter—it's not like it's impairing my vision on that side," he pointed out dryly.
"I guess you have a point—your scarf is covering your eye already, so what's a little extra hair really going to do? I actually think it's a good look on you…if a little unkempt." Rook reached out to tussle his hair, which only earned her another scowl.
"Quit it! I'm not some kid, you know."
"Yeah, maybe that's why you look so different. You actually look like a man now," she teased. "Especially with those tattoos…though those leafy vines aren't exactly the manliest designs I've ever seen. What, were they Haiven's idea?"
"No," Alan muttered, glancing down at the pattern that wound from his wrist to his shoulder and across his collarbone.
"If you were going to do something that extreme, you could have fit a whole dragon on your body…or something else cool, like a bunch of snakes, or…" Rook trailed off when she saw Alan wince. "Oh, right. I guess it makes sense why you didn't go that route."
"You don't have to tell me that they look dumb," Alan muttered. "I usually wear long sleeves to cover it up...I haven't even shown my family yet. But it's too hot today for long sleeves…though maybe I would have risked it, if I knew I was going to run into you."
"I don't think it looks dumb," Rook corrected. "They're really well done…it just took me by surprise, is all, so I wanted to tease you about it a little. That's my job."
"Your job as what?" Alan challenged, tugging at the collar of his shirt self-consciously, as if trying to cover up even a small part of the tattoo. "When we were in the East last, I ran into my sister Hayzl. She's a tattoo artist, and she insisted that this would be a good way of covering up the scars from the snake bites. She's talented enough…but maybe I should have turned her down. This feels like it draws more attention to them."
Rook blinked, her gaze going to the places where the dusk vipers had attacked him all those years ago. Sure enough, the old scars were hidden beneath the swirling ink, and she smiled softly. "Actually, I think that was a great idea. No use letting your past keep a hold on you anymore."
"They're hidden, not gone," Alan corrected. "I can't hope to erase my past so easily."
Rook's smile faded as she studied his expression. "Has something happened?" she asked. "Someone came after you again?"
Alan shook himself from his thoughts, glancing over. "No, nothing like that," he assured, rubbing his thumb across the design on his wrist. "It's actually been quiet for the last few years. Maybe it's because we keep on the move."
"Or maybe you really have left the past behind," Rook offered. "If someone hasn't bothered you by now, I'd assume no one would."
"I hope so," Alan agreed. "So…you and Theodynn have been doing okay, then? Where is he right now? Odd to see you on your own."
"We're great, if just a little stressed about the transition from the south to here." She tugged at the end of her braid with a wince. "It's going to be another adjustment, but I think we'll manage fine, just like we always have."
Alan snorted. "I mean, the two of you managed to survive the south after taking over for Ottan, so I think taking over here will feel like a walk in a park."
"Hopefully there will be fewer assassination attempts," Rook agreed dryly. "It's not so much I'm expecting danger. It's just going to be different, is all."
"You're afraid of losing your freedom," Alan realized, and Rook looked over to see him studying her. "You're going to be under as much scrutiny here as you were at first in the south…but now it's people that aren't trying to kill you, so you can't solve the issue by throwing them in prison or running them through."
"That's rude to say," Rook accused.
"Maybe so, but I wouldn't waste too much time worrying, if that is what's eating at you," Alan answered with a shrug. "You and Theodynn aren't exactly the type to forgo all your freedom just because of expectations. I think the situation here will change before the two of you do."
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," Rook muttered. "But as long as we're talking about relationships…"
"Were we talking about that?" Alan asked, shooting her a wary look.
"…How are you and Haiven doing?" Rook finished, raising an eyebrow. "Any changes or updates since I saw you last?"
"I've told you a million times, Rook…the way we've always been is the only way we're ever going to be. We're friends…travel partners at best. That's it."
"But you wish it was more than that—don't bother trying to convince me otherwise," Rook accused. "And after three years, I'm shocked that you keep dragging your feet."
"'Dragging my feet' implies that I'm heading in that direction at all, and I'm not," Alan replied softly. "Lay off—I already get interrogated enough about it from my parents. One of these days Haiven is going to decide I'm not worth the hassle of being constantly bombarded with these kinds of questions and she's going to leave me behind."
"Or, if she knew how you really felt about her, she might realize her own feelings," Rook pointed out. "There really isn't any benefit for you hanging out in this limbo forever."
"Look, if Haiven had that kind of interest in me, it would have come up in one way or another in the last three years," Alan hissed. "She doesn't see me like that, and I don't want to ruin our friendship with something so selfish. I really am happy just traveling together—it beats traveling alone."
Rook studied his expression, not sure she believed him. "And what if she finds someone else that she wants to be with because you never told her how you feel?"
"Then she should be with them," Alan replied easily, standing up and collecting his dishes. "It's not as complicated as strategic warfare, Rook. If Haiven finds happiness with someone, then I'll be happy for her."
"Alright," Rook sighed, staying seated as she watched him prepare to leave. "But if you're so adamant that she's never going to be an option, are you at least letting yourself look at other options instead?"
Alan paused, shooting her an irritable look. "I told my father I'd meet up with him after lunch," he said, his tone making it clear the conversation was over. "It was good to see you—give Theo my best, if I don't end up running into him."
"It was good to see you too," Rook relented, watching as he walked away.
"You've really done it now, Shirka. He's going to have a complete breakdown," Syra accused, staring out at the two figures on the training field. Jaqah was saying something to Tyme, who was nodding a lot. He was trying to appear stoic, but Syra knew him well enough to know that he was on the verge of passing out.
"He'll be fine," Shirka insisted with a shrug. "It's good for him to get used to doing this sort of thing. He's not going to be able to make it as a Central Fortress Guard without being able to handle a little pressure."
"Sure," Syra replied. "But trusting our fate on his ability is rubbing me wrong. If he messes this up, he's never going to forgive himself. Not that I'll forgive him, either."
"It's rare of you to care so much…but you're worried about nothing," Shirka insisted, glancing over at last. "We already passed the test."
"What test?" Syra asked, though she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
"Jaqah wanted to test our mettle, so she set up an intimidating ultimatum. But even if Tyme loses, we'll still be allowed to initiate."
"Except she explicitly said we wouldn't," Syra pointed out. "Please don't tell me you're stupid enough to think that she was bluffing."
Shirka reddened. "It's not being stupid," she scoffed. "Even if Jaqah tried to ban us, Theo and Rook would just overturn that decision. All we're doing today is making sure that Jaqah remembers who we are—the more known you are, the more you're trusted."
"See, I don't know if that's how trust works," Syra muttered. "Next time, do us all a favor and keep your sappy optimism to yourself. Every time you get us involved in these schemes, we regret it."
"I got the sword!" Reg called, running to the field from the barracks with a broadsword in hand.
"Poor baby, he can barely lift that thing," Syra smirked as she watched Reg carry the heavy weapon to where Tyme and Jaqah were standing. Tyme accepted the weapon, nodding his thanks to Reg. Jaqah was saying something else, but from where Shirka and Syra were standing, they couldn't make it out.
"You really think he can do this?" Reg asked as he scampered over to where the young women were watching. "He's already all sweaty and they haven't even started yet."
"Besides Gyro, Tyme is the one who's come closest to defeating Rook in a skirmish," Shirka pointed out. "So, obviously he's our best bet."
"But he's never actually beat her, though," Reg muttered, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
"He doesn't have to win against Jaqah—he just has to prove that we're good enough to deserve to try out to be guards," Shirka reminded.
"But she was already going to let us try out to be guards whether we were 'good enough' or not," Reg muttered.
"There's no point fighting it," Syra yawned. "Shirka is chasing visions of grandeur. Let's just hope Tyme survives this attempt on his life."
"Jaqah isn't going to kill him," Shirka argued, shooting Syra a look.
"I didn't say she was. I think his anxiety will do him in first."
"It would be pretty sweet if he could beat her, though," Reg pointed out, putting a hand over his eyes to shield the sun as he watched Tyme and Jaqah get into starting positions. "If he does…do you think she'll just make us all guards right here and now?"
"Let's not put the hoofer before the cart," Syra muttered, studying Tyme closely. It was strange to see him fight with a broadsword, but it wasn't like he hadn't ever used one before. No doubt he has some nerdy reason for why a broadsword is preferable to the one he usually uses, she thought.
"You got this, Tyme!" Reg shouted, and Tyme glanced their direction. He nodded his understanding, but Syra could see he was shaking.
No matter what Shirka thinks, if he falls apart here, it's over, Syra thought.
The guard Jaqah had found to judge the match lifted his arm, and as he dropped it, Jaqah leapt into action.
"Watch out!" Reg yelled as the Captain of the Guard reached Tyme in an instant, her sword crashing down toward him. Tyme managed to counter the attack, but only barely. Jaqah's recovery was quick, and Tyme stumbled backward in order to block it as well.
"Well, he didn't lose immediately, at least," Syra muttered as the fight continued.
"She's not going easy, that's for sure," Shirka murmured, and Syra glanced over to see the young woman looking a little concerned.
Tyme continued to give up ground as Jaqah's attacks hit with unrelenting strength.
"She doesn't fight anything like Rook," Reg realized as they watched Tyme continue his fight.
"Obviously," Syra scoffed. "Are you dense? Rook's an assassin from the south, and Jaqah's a war veteran from the Central Province—why on earth would they fight the same?"
Reg reddened, and he scowled as he glanced Syra's way. "We've fought Central Fortress people before," he muttered. "It's not like it's that different."
"Jaqah isn't as fast as Rook, but she's a lot stronger," Shirka murmured almost to herself as she watched the fight. "If Tyme hadn't switched out for a broadsword, he might not have been able to block that first attack."
"Don't act like he's doing well," Syra yawned. "He's been on the defensive this whole time."
"Maybe so…but if it was any of the three of us fighting, it would have already been over by now," Shirka pointed out as they watched Tyme block attack after attack.
"I'm just as strong as he is," Reg muttered. "You don't know that I would have lost."
"Don't make me laugh," Syra said. "Tyme's a good foot taller than you."
"Height has nothing to do with strength!" Reg argued.
"It's not just that he's stronger," Shirka corrected. "Since we had no way of knowing how Jaqah would fight, it was best to put in the person who would be able to adapt the quickest. After all, I can't think of another person who knows as much about technique as Tyme."
"So, you gambled our future at this fortress on his war obsession?" Syra guessed. Shirka didn't reply, but the look on her face was answer enough. "Knowing isn't the same as doing, you know—even if Tyme was able to guess what her fighting style would be doesn't mean that he can do anything about it."
"He hasn't lost yet," Shirka pointed out, but Syra's expression didn't change as she watched Tyme continue to block blow after blow.
"He's running out of steam," Syra pointed out. "He's only made a few offensive moves this entire fight—I doubt that just enduring Jaqah's attacks will be enough to impress her."
"It's fine," Shirka insisted, her eyes still glued on the match. "It's not like he has to win this."
Syra studied her friend skeptically. "You know…it's starting to feel like you only did this as a way to analyze Jaqah's fighting style for yourself, to give yourself a leg up in your future initiation."
Shirka flushed. "This is good for all of us to see," she argued.
"There's no guarantee we will be fighting Jaqah for initiation—we have no idea what it's going to entail," Syra pointed out. "Poor Tyme…I wonder if he's realized that he was just sniffer fodder in this scheme of yours."
"That's not it at all," Shirka muttered. Syra didn't pursue the conversation further, turning her attention back to the skirmish. She couldn't see it lasting that much longer.
Tyme hadn't made up much ground, still defending against Jaqah's attacks. However, the Captain of the Guard had shifted her fighting style. Rather than bombarding him with powerful attacks, she almost seemed to be backing off. Syra frowned—was Jaqah trying to give Tyme more openings to see what he was capable of?
"Why isn't he pressing in?" Reg griped. "She's slowing down—this is his chance!"
"He's probably too tired—he spent all his stamina trying not to have a breakdown before the fight started," Syra sighed.
"No…that's not it," Shirka argued, watching the fight closely. "Something's off."
Syra rolled her eyes, but she watched as well. Jaqah pulled back even further, and Tyme finally started hesitantly pressing in. However, in the next moment, the Captain of the Guard swung forward in a way that Syra had never seen before.
"Tyme!" Reg shouted in warning, and even Syra felt herself stiffen in alarm as she watched Jaqah sweep low to the dirt, dodging Tyme's blow with ease as her sword arced toward his legs.
"Ghost of an Ancient," Syra cursed. However, just as she was sure Tyme was about to lose a leg, the sound of metal on metal clanged across the courtyard.
"He blocked it," Shirka breathed, and Syra realized she was right. Tyme hadn't been in any kind of position to do so—even now, his body was twisted awkwardly in order to deflect the attack. In the next moment, Jaqah took advantage of his off-set center of balance. Her next blow landed Tyme on his back. A moment later, Jaqah's sword was at his throat.
8
"Match!" the guard judging the fight called, and Tyme sagged on the ground, his expression twisting with shame.
"You did well!" Shirka called, moving forward as Jaqah sheathed her sword and offered a hand to help Tyme up. He accepted it, though he kept his gaze downward as he got to his feet and tried to catch his breath.
"So, does this count as failing?" Reg demanded as they reached the pair. "I mean, he lasted a long time, so that's got to count for something!"
"A well-trained guard stands at attention and waits for feedback, rather than demanding it," Jaqah replied, shooting Reg a warning look. He immediately stiffened, and Shirka and Syra fell in line next to their shorter companion.
"I'm sorry, guys," Tyme mumbled, and Jaqah turned to the exhausted young man.
"You held your own better than I expected you to," the Captain of the Guard offered. "That said…you don't fight well enough that I think you should have risked your and your companion's future endeavors on a gamble like this. Even if it wasn't your idea, you could have turned down the fight."
Tyme's expression fell further, and Shirka felt her heart start to gallop in concern. Did that mean that Jaqah considered this a failure, after all? Was she really going to tell the rest of them that they wouldn't be able to initiate, just because Tyme couldn't beat her?
That's not fair, she thought, blood rushing to her face. I doubt most initiates could defeat the Captain of the Guard on a one-on-one skirmish!
Jaqah glanced at her, Reg, and Syra, but none of them said anything, though Shirka knew her friends were probably thinking the same thing…as well as cursing her for getting them in this situation.
"I won't block you from initiating," the Captain of the Guard finally said, and everyone sagged in relief. "However, that doesn't mean that most of you have left a good impression on me today."
Wait…meaning what? Shirka wondered. Jaqah turned to Tyme and gestured at the sword he was holding.
"It's obvious you don't generally fight with a sword that large," she pointed out flatly. "So why switch?"
"You were going to use a broadsword, and I wasn't sure that I'd be able to defend against you with anything smaller," Tyme mumbled.
"I see," Jaqah replied. "It's clear from fighting you that you spend a lot of time thinking about technique. I won't say that switching to a broadsword was unwise…but often times, you can do more with a familiar blade than with an unfamiliar weapon that merely 'fits the situation.' Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Tyme agreed.
"You have good form, but you were too afraid of losing to ever press any advantage you had. You played it safe the entire battle, and as a result, your stamina ran dry," Jaqah accused. "It was clear the stakes rattled you, but for guards at the central fortress, there is far more on the line than securing future opportunities. Our forces protect the Rulership. You cannot allow a fear of losing to keep you from winning."
"I understand," Tyme mumbled.
"Anything you'd like to add to your assessment?" Jaqah asked, and Tyme finally glanced up.
"My block on your final attack was sloppy, and left me unbalanced and easy to defeat," he offered.
"It's true," Jaqah agreed, but for the first time, she had a hint of a smile on her face. "However, I will say I was surprised you were able to block it at all. It's almost like you realized it was coming."
"I didn't react fast enough," Tyme griped, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. "By the time I realized you were in position for that move, it was too late."
Jaqah lifted an eyebrow. "You recognized it?"
"It was my first time seeing it in person," Tyme replied. "But I know that it's a move that was somewhat common among the Iron Baron's forces. It was used to cripple Dragons without killing them on the battlefield, making them easier to overcome and transport. Considering how long you've been stationed at the Central Fortress, it would make sense that you could be trained in the technique, since you probably hunted dragons yourself in your early years of training."
Jaqah blinked in surprise. "It seems you know your stuff," she offered, and Tyme flushed. The Captain of the Guard shifted her weight as she continued. "Still, if you recognized the move, then rather than try to block it, you could have pressed your advantage by aiming for my weak spot. Anyone familiar with that move would know it leaves someone's left side vulnerable. Once again, your fear of failure caused you to decide to parry instead of pressing your advantage."
"Right," Tyme agreed, dropping his gaze again.
"And now, for the rest of you," Jaqah started, turning to face the others.
"Us? But we didn't fight," Reg blurted, earning him an elbow from Syra.
"No, but I was able to glean information about you just the same," Jaqah said dryly. "We will start with you, since you have such a hard time keeping your mouth shut. I would like you to tell me exactly how old you are…and know that whatever answer you give me will be what I base my assessment on."
Reg scowled. "I'm seventeen," he insisted.
Shirka winced internally—surely there was no way that Jaqah would actually believe Reg was that old. To her surprise, however, Jaqah nodded.
"Very well," she said. "Then it's clear to me that you aren't going to get much taller than the height you are now."
Syra snorted, and Reg immediately turned red. "That's not—" he started, but Jaqah cut him off.
"I know plenty of skilled people who lack height, but you have to understand that it is a detriment on the battlefield, even if that doesn't seem fair. After seeing how you struggled to run with the weight of a broadsword, I can with good confidence assume that you wouldn't last long in hand-to-hand combat."
"That's not true!" Reg countered. "I've defeated plenty of people taller than me! Ask Rook!"
"I thought I had made it clear by now that my opinion on you will be formed completely separately from what anyone else might think or say about you," Jaqah reminded. "I have trained a great number of guards, and I've been in a great number of battles. My advice to you would be to focus your efforts on long-range abilities rather than hand-to-hand." She raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever used a crossbow?"
"I'm a swordsman, not an archer!" Reg spluttered. "I don't want to hide behind a weak man's weapon!"
Here, Jaqah's expression hardened. "That's enough," she snapped, and Reg at least managed to keep himself from arguing further. The Captain of the Guard's expression was stony as she studied him. "It's important to understand that ambition can only get you so far. Being aware of your own weaknesses is essential to becoming a guard. If you insist on plowing down a path that you aren't suited for and ignoring other potential avenues that would be more fitting, then you're not worth wasting my time on."
Reg dropped his gaze, but it was clear that he was fuming from the assessment. Jaqah next turned her attention to Syra.
"I don't have much to say to you, other than to warn you against allowing others to make your decisions for you. You talk a big talk to make yourself seem like you're clever and in control, but at the end of the day, if you aren't willing to actually take a stand, then words are just that."
Syra blinked, but Jaqah had already moved on to Shirka. The young woman met Jaqah's eye confidently, though she had a feeling that when Jaqah said she was unimpressed earlier, she was specifically talking about Shirka.
"You have drive, and it's good that you're aware of the abilities of those around you," Jaqah started. "After fighting your companion, I understand why you decided to put him forward rather than yourself. However…it was clear that he was extremely uncomfortable with the situation. Though it's on him for not standing up for himself, you seemed to be working under the assumption that even if he had failed, none of you would face the consequences I had set up."
Shirka didn't reply, but she felt Syra's eyes on her as Jaqah continued.
"I really do hate repeating myself…so please let it sink in for you now. You will not be receiving any special treatment during your time here at the Central Fortress. Had this young man not fought well enough, I would have made sure that the four of you would not be allowed to initiate. Do you understand?"
Shirka's heart was pounding, and she nodded. "Yes. But I knew that Tyme could handle it."
"Having confidence in your companions is admirable, but I don't believe that you considered him good enough to definitely succeed at this challenge. Rather, you didn't actually consider this a true risk, because you no doubt assumed you'd be able to fall back on Theodynn's mercy had I come to a conclusion today that you didn't like," Jaqah accused. "In fact, I'll admit a part of me was hoping your friend would fail so you would be forced to face the consequences you so easily agreed to. You were willing to put yourself in a completely unnecessary arrangement that posed great risk and little reward. What's worse—you were willing to jeopardize the fates of your companions as well. On a battlefield, such wonton assessment of risk can and does cause fatalities."
Shirka's face was burning, and she found herself on the verge of getting emotional. Don't you dare, she thought, keeping the tears at bay. Crying isn't going to change how she feels about you…and besides, Tyme didn't lose, so it's not like I actually did anything wrong.
"Your friends could have and should have banded together to talk you out of the deal you made with me," Jaqah explained. "It was an arrangement that yielded very little compared to what you all could have lost. That tells me that either they don't have much backbone…or they must really trust you." Her expression was steely as she continued to watch Shirka closely. "I hope in the future, you won't treat their trust so lightly."
Shirka forced herself to swallow. "I understand," she mumbled.
"Good." Jaqah took a step backward, studying the four of them one last time. "By now, I'm sure Theodynn and Rook will be ready for you. Think about what I told you today. If there's one thing this reckless gamble bought you, it's perspective. Utilize it for the upcoming initiation…but know that I will be judging you harder than I will others since you have received personal council from me that other tryouts won't have."
"Great," Syra breathed, and Shirka winced.
"For today, you should all be thankful that your friend was familiar with Central Fortress fighting technique," Jaqah concluded, glancing toward Tyme one last time. "Good luck with your training. I suppose I'll see you all again in a month for initiation."
The Central Fortress would probably always hold mixed feelings for Haiven. She had become quite familiar with it back when she and Theodynn were seeing each other. Though it hadn't changed much in structure over the years, there were still differences from when she used to frequent it. However, most of the guards she met were the same as back then, and even those she didn't recognize still seemed to know who she was.
"Oh, Haiven! Are you here for your hoofer?" a stable hand asked as she reached the hoofer-filled structure. "I'm happy to go get it ready for you."
Haiven waved a hand in the negative, and the stable hand seemed to understand, though he looked disappointed.
"If you need any help, please don't hesitate to ask," he said, and she nodded her understanding.
Haiven moved down the stable aisle, looking for her hoofer. She spotted a familiar figure in the last stall, his back to her as he brushed the side of their hoofer. Haiven smiled a little, moving silently until she was right behind him.
Alan flinched as Haiven poked him firmly in the back, and he shot her an unappreciative look. "I told you not to sneak up behind me," he muttered, and Haiven grinned in return.
Your guard is always down when you're around hoofers, she teased, and he rolled his eyes.
"You're the one who's spent years telling me I'm too tense," he replied, going back to his work brushing the hoofer. Haiven moved so that her hands could be in his line of sight as she signed to him.
Did the stable hand recognize you?
Alan frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"
I've never met him before, but he knew me by name, Haiven offered. Do you think they have to memorize everyone who leaves a hoofer here?
Alan shrugged a shoulder. "I dunno. He seemed annoyed that I'm here, so maybe he recognized me…or maybe he just didn't like that I took it upon myself to work on my own hoofer instead of relying on him."
He probably just wants to be useful, Haiven replied, glancing around to make sure the stable hand in question wouldn't overhear them talking about him. It makes me feel strange, though…to be called by name by people who I've never actually met.
"You're pretty easy to recognize," Alan pointed out. "Between your lighter hair, your eyes, and your tattoos, even people who have never met you would know exactly who you are if they've at least heard of you." He finished brushing the hoofer, stashing the brush on a nearby shelf on the stall. "Even if you aren't with Theodynn anymore, that kind of relationship has a lasting impact. Even people in other provinces recognize you sometimes."
I guess, Haiven replied with a sigh.
"Is someone making you uncomfortable?" Alan asked, glancing over at her.
No. Everyone is always very kind to me…almost too kind. Her expression darkened. Sometimes it feels like they think I'm some kind of invalid, just because I can't talk.
"Mmm." Alan moved to claim a bale of hay he had left in the stable aisle. Haiven watched as he lifted it easily, carrying it over to the hoofer's trough. Alan had always had a lean build, no doubt from all the swordplay training from his youth. However, doing more intensive, hard-labor type jobs over the last few years had caused his build to become a bulkier type of muscular.
"What are you smirking at?" Alan asked, glancing over at her suspiciously.
Just thinking about how much you struggled lifting bales that first year we were traveling, she offered.
Alan rolled his eyes, tossing the bale into the trough and pulling a small knife out to cut the strings binding it. The hoofer moved forward greedily, and Alan shoved his head away as he freed the hay into the trough. "I wasn't used to it back then," he pointed out. "But don't try to change the subject. If people are treating you like that, you should call them out on it."
Haiven's smile faded. They don't mean anything by it, I'm sure, she signed. I'm just tired of the sympathetic looks, or people tripping over themselves to help me just because they don't think I can do anything for myself.
"I agree that people underestimate you," Alan agreed. "But I'm glad that even if they're patronizing, they're still being kind. After all, notoriety always goes one of two ways."
He didn't say more, but Haiven knew he was referring to the way he was treated by many people here at the Central Fortress. His twin sister wasn't the only one who still regarded Alan with suspicion—Haiven hadn't missed the looks various guards and even servants shot his way whenever they visited. She knew Alan noticed the looks too, but he tended to ignore them completely. Even if people tried to pick a fight directly, he refused to engage with them.
I guess that's true—better to be treated sympathetically than cruelly. I'm actually surprised they don't hate me, though. Everyone here loves Theo, and I'm the girl who broke his heart.
"I don't know that anyone really thinks about you like that," Alan offered, his tone becoming more distant. He wasn't looking at her anymore—no longer watching for her hand signs. It was generally a good sign that he was done talking, and Haiven sighed as she moved to repack the saddlebags. She could tell that Alan already had organized them, but he didn't try to stop her from doing it again.
They worked in silent tandem for a little while. The stable hand from earlier reappeared in a nearby stall, and Alan popped his head out to call to him. "Can I get a hoof pick?"
Haiven couldn't see the stable hand from her position kneeling on the ground, but his tone was irritable as he called back. "Don't you own your own?"
Alan shrugged. "Ours aren't as good of quality as the ones you have here. If you're busy, I can go grab one from the storage shed myself."
"Absolutely not! Only trusted stable hands are allowed to get things from the shed," the boy replied. He was probably only a few years younger than Alan, and a whole lot shorter. Was he intimidated? Or just a stickler for the rules?
Haiven pushed herself to her feet, and as her head popped up over the stall, she and the stable hand made eye contact. His irritable expression faded to one of shock, and then shame.
"Haiven! I didn't realize…um. Of course I can go get a hoof pick," he offered. Haiven smiled, gesturing in thanks, and the stable hand squirmed in place. "I can show you where they are, if you want to come along," he mumbled.
"I thought that wasn't allowed," Alan pointed out dryly, and the stable hand's expression hardened again.
"Just not for anyone suspicious," he threw back. He glanced at Haiven one last time, but when she made no move to follow him, he left, heading toward the shed that housed various grooming tools outside the stables.
Ancients, sometimes it feels like you could waltz right into the dungeons themselves and no one would blink an eye, Alan signed as they watched him go.
Haiven scowled, poking him in the side.Or maybe if you bothered smiling sometimes, people would be more willing to help you.
Fair enough, Alan signed with a shrug before he and Haiven moved to ready the hoofer for a hoof cleaning.
Though the conversation with Cole and Keyda had been a little awkward, it had gone better than Rook had honestly anticipated. On the other hand, her recruits seemed far more shaken than they should have been from a mere tour around the fortress.
"I know it's a lot bigger than what you're used to in the south, but you'll get the hang of the layout in no time," Theo was saying from his hoofer as they rode homeward. "Don't be too intimidated by it, okay?"
The four recruits mumbled their agreement, and Theo glanced over at Rook, who shrugged a shoulder. She was used to Tyme looking stressed out, but even Syra was looking a little worse for the wear.
Rook slowed her hoofer so that it was walking alongside Shirka's. "So…what exactly happened during your tour with Jaqah?" she asked, and the young woman flinched a little.
"What do you mean?" Shirka replied, her tone immediately going on the defensive.
"I mean you all look like you're choking on a rat skewer," Rook said dryly.
Shirka glanced around at her companions and finally offered an unconvincing smile. "Oh, I think we're all just a little nervous about the initiation that Jaqah brought up. She said it's a month…and we all have to pass it if we want to be on the force."
"Ah, that's right—it is that time of year," Theo realized. "That's actually pretty good timing. You could already have been working at the fortress for a month before the coronation. That will give you time to adapt while things are still somewhat calm."
Shirka's smile faded. "Um…I guess I just thought we would all be moving to the Central Fortress at the same time."
"You didn't realize you'd have to initiate?" Rook guessed, understanding suddenly dawning. "Just because you have Theo's permission to move to the Central Fortress doesn't mean that you got a free pass onto the force, you know."
"I…well, I understand that Jaqah's the Captain of the Guard, so it makes sense that it's her call," Shirka said. "But…on the off chance one of us failed, or something…" she trailed off, and Rook noticed the way Shirka was glancing in Theodynn's direction.
"You want to know if I'd put you on the force anyway, even if Jaqah turns you down?" Theo guessed, glancing back at the recruits. They all glanced up, the anticipation in their expressions giving them away. Theo offered a smile. "Look…I know Jaqah can seem a little scary, but she's actually one of the smartest, most capable people I know. She isn't going to go any harder on you than anyone else…but that also means she isn't going to give you any special treatment."
"Yeah, she made that clear," Reg muttered, and Shirka shot her friend a warning look.
"But…" Theo continued, his expression becoming apologetic. "The truth is, if Jaqah determines that you shouldn't be on the guard force, I will back up her decision."
Shirka's eyes widened in alarm. "But why—" she started before Rook cut her off.
"During your tour today, I'm sure you noticed how smoothly everything runs in the Central Fortress," Rook pointed out. "That isn't just by chance. The Rulership may be in the seat of control over the fortress and the realm…but they wouldn't be able to get anything done without competent people who they trust wholly."
"It's true," Theo agreed. "Jaqah is one of the people my parents trust them most—the role she plays is essential. I trust her too, and even once I'm Ruler, it would be a poor sign of my trust if I were to argue with her decisions." He glanced back at them again, and winced when he caught sight of their crestfallen expressions. "Look, you guys have trained just as hard, or harder, than most fortress initiates. It's true that Jaqah has a high standard for those who join her force, but you shouldn't feel like you have no way to meet her expectations."
"If we fail, will we have to return to the south?" Tyme asked, looking paler than usual.
"Only if you would like to," Theo offered. "Even if you can't join the force this year, I'm sure we can find someplace for you at the Central Fortress if you'd like to stay. If you do fail the initiation in a month for some reason, there's always next year's to work toward, if your set on that goal." He smiled again. "Though really, as long as you didn't do anything to make Jaqah angry with you, I'm sure you four will do just fine."
Rather than smile in return, the four recruits seemed to become even more anxious, and Rook narrowed her eyes. "What did you guys do?" she demanded. No one responded, and Theo laughed.
"I was just kidding," he offered. "Jaqah doesn't get angry easily. If you feel like you talked too much or asked too many questions and made her irritated, that's just the way her face looks."
"Right," Shirka mumbled in reply. Rook wanted to press further, but it seemed like the four of them had a lot to think about, so the rest of the trip back to the south was rather quiet.
9
Amber pulled on her jacket as the professor at the front of the room called a few final instructions.
"I'm still receiving questions about whether I'll be compiling a study guide for next week's exam, but at this point in the program, I would hope you all would be able to complete your studies without a professor having to hold your hand. If you've been attending class and taking notes, then you should have plenty of material to study from."
Amber groaned internally, and heard several of her classmates do it audibly. The young man sitting next to her rolled his eyes as he reached for the longboard stashed under the lecture-hall tables.
"Geez, I'm sick of professors thinking they have to make our life harder just because we're in our third year," he muttered.
"Don't be too bummed, man," his friend next to him offered as he pushed himself to his feet. "Just take this as an excuse to form a study group with a cute girl. I'm pretty sure that babe with horns has been scoring well on the last few exams."
Amber blinked, realizing that they were talking about her. She glanced over to see them both staring at her, her mind going blank. She had never been great about remembering classmates, and that had only gotten worse in college. Had she ever actually talked with either of these guys?
"How about it? Wanna go hit the student hall and do a little studying with us?" the young man with the longboard asked, waggling his eyebrows.
"Um…sorry, but I'm actually meeting someone," she offered awkwardly, stuffing her notes into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder.
"Ah, don't give us that," he replied. "What? You have a boyfriend or something?"
"Yeah, actually," Amber agreed before heading to the door.
"Way to strike out, man," the young man's friend mocked, and the one with the longboard pushed his buddy out of his face.
"It was your idea!"
Amber shook her head as she left the lecture hall behind. It might be a presumptuous thought, but it always surprised her to meet people who had never heard of her, let alone followed the train of gossip online. Countless people recognized her on sight, and most of them were uncomfortably aware of her personal relationships because of tabloids.
It wasn't long before she was outside, zipping her jacket up against the chill. It was sunnier than it had been, but still cold. The campus of Ninjago University was rather spacious, and considering that Amber was trying to juggle two majors that had nothing to do with each other, she had to cross from one side to the other quite often. Today, however, she made her way to the road that marked one edge of the university's campus.
As she grew closer, it was easy to spot her ride. The car was an older classic model, but its paint job changed every few months. Amber smiled at the sunflowers that decorated the car in bursts of yellow and gold, and the passenger-side window rolled down as she approached.
"Hey!" Dani called, beaming at her. "How was class?"
"A little intense," Amber admitted, opening the door and flopping down into the seat. "I'm not sure if the professor is trying to set us up to fail or what. I swear we have an exam every other week, and each one is harder than the last and makes up a larger percentage of our final grade."
"That sucks," Dani agreed as she started the car. It took a few tries before the engine turned over, and Amber couldn't help but smile.
"I thought you were going to get your car fixed," she pointed out.
"We did!" Dani insisted. "But old Odessa here gets grumpy in the cold, no matter how much work we put into her." She pulled out onto the highway, and soon they were caught in five-o-clock traffic.
"Surely you guys make enough now to buy a new car," Amber pointed out. "Didn't Colby's channel just reach a hundred subscribers, or something?"
"Uh…more like several hundred thousand," Dani corrected. "But did you really just suggest we get rid of Odessa? How dare you!"
"I'm sorry," Amber laughed. "But it does sound like your social media channel is going well."
"To be honest, we probably have Mia to thank for that…though I don't know if I can muster the strength to say as much to her face," Dani admitted. "Her expertise in social media and different platforms is really the only reason we have as many followers as we do. I honestly never expected it to pick up the way it did—I just found Colby's process of painting with his elemental powers so cool I figured I'd film it and put it on the web. After that first viral video, Colby and I didn't really know how to react. When Mia first suggested she take over, we were a little wary…but it's actually going better than I expected."
"Are Mia and Colby getting along, then?" Amber realized.
"Pretty much…though she gets on a high horse about algorithms and sponsors and stuff. She said we could be making loads more if we would cater to the businesses who have offered to sponsor us, but Colby isn't really keen on the idea, and I'm not either to be honest."
"Sponsors," Amber repeated, her own expression clouding. "It's a messy world, trying to run your own business. I've learned that much these last few years, if nothing else."
"You're talking about M, right? And his business, Bicep-Power or whatever it's called?" Dani guessed.
"It's called 'Armed with Power,'" Amber corrected. "But yeah, I feel like all I ever hear about these days is product management, quotas, and sponsors. I keep hoping once they finally launch the business, that things will die down a little…but I feel like it's only going to get busier from here."
"Yeah, I could see that," Dani agreed. "But hey, just a few more weeks, and it will finally be up and running, right? After working so hard to get it all set up over the last few years, Openheimer must be ecstatic."
Amber shrugged one shoulder, staring out the car window at the skyscrapers they were passing. "He is excited…but he's terrified, too. It took a lot longer for him to get to this point than he expected it to, and I think he's afraid of it all falling apart. I can sense the fear in him, no matter how much he tries to hide it, and it just gets worse the closer we get."
"I guess I can't blame him for that—after so much effort, it's natural to be nervous." She turned down another street, the traffic finally starting to peter out. "Speaking of Openheimer, though…have you seen him since he got back from that whole 'metal research trip' to Metallonia?" Dani asked.
"Not yet," Amber admitted. "We're supposed to meet tomorrow night."
"Hmmm," Dani mused. "It's been a while since you and I hung out, so forgive me for asking, but… are you any closer to becoming Mrs. Openheimer yet?
Amber grimaced. "Dani…."
"Okay, I'm sorry…but you keep saying that you guys are talking about it, but every time I see you, you two are in the same limbo you've been in for forever. I mean…you could at least move in together, even if you didn't want to get hitched right away."
Amber's face went beet red. "It's not limbo…we're both just really busy," the Oni mumbled. "This double major is consuming more of my life than I thought it would, and M's been traveling all over the realm trying to get this business set up." She pushed her hair out of her face and sighed. "I wasn't lying to you before—we have been talking about it, and we definitely both feel like marriage will be our next step. It's just when that step will actually happen that is still a little vague."
"Maybe it's time for an ultimatum, to get him to stop dragging his feet," Dani mused.
Amber shot her friend another look. "That doesn't sound like the kind of advice you usually give," she pointed out.
"You're right," Dani relented. "I just can't help but wonder if Openheimer can get over his phobia of commitment without a little nudge."
"Yeah," Amber agreed quietly. "But at the same time…it's just never felt like the right time. As much as I want to finally get to that step, I know that it probably won't happen until M's business is fully underway, and he feels secure in its success."
"Geez…but that could take years," Dani pointed out. "I mean, it already has, just to get to this point. Are you really okay waiting that long, Amber? You should know that a big part of my oh-so-wise advice is about self-advocating and making your own needs and desires clear, you know."
"I know, but it's okay," Amber said. "I mean, sure…if it was up to me alone, we would probably already be married by now. But for M, it's not as simple as just having a party, saying a few vows and then moving in together like it's nothing. Marriage is something he wants to be prepared for…his worst fear would be trying to tackle that level of commitment without a secure foundation for us to stand on." She frowned. "Or at least, I think that's how he described it to me the last time we talked about it."
"I guess I agree that it's not a decision that should be rushed," Dani admitted. "But it's impossible to ever be totally secure, you know? No matter how hard you prepare for a marriage, there will still be bumps in the road you have to adapt to as they come up."
Amber smiled, but inside, she was aching. "Right," she agreed, but she suddenly didn't feel much like talking anymore. Dani glanced over at her, her expression pinching.
"Oh, well…that's enough of that," Dani said. "You and Openheimer have been through how many end-of-the-world situations? I'm sure the two of you will figure it out. In other news…have you seen Rusty lately?"
"Not since the holidays when Julian and Agatha had us all over," Amber admitted, grateful for the change in topic. "Is he any bigger?"
"He's grown at least a few inches since then," Dani answered. "I swear, every time I go over to babysit, he's outgrown the clothes that just seemed to fit him. Ashley's got her hands full chasing him around, too. I mean, who knew two-year olds could be so darn fast?"
Amber smiled. "I'll have to go visit Ashley and see him one of these days. It just feels like there is never enough time lately."
"Did she RSVP to Openheimer's launch party?" Dani asked.
Amber blinked. "She did, actually…so hopefully I'll see them both then."
Dani turned her car into the parking lot of their favorite restaurant. "That will be a party. Colby and I are still planning on coming too, you know."
"That's good. I'm sure M will be happy to see you both, and Julien and Agatha, too."
"Yeah, we wouldn't miss it," Dani agreed as she finished parking. "Now, let's go get some grub. I skipped lunch today during my shift at the hospital, and I'm starving."
"You seem more troubled than usual," Iona pointed out as she wiped down the counters in her home. Raiyn didn't answer, lying flat on his back on the floor. Sunlight filtered in through the various glass jars stationed by Iona's windows, causing patterns to dance on the ceiling. He watched them with mild interest.
"Is everything okay?" she pressed, turning her full attention to him. "Have you had more dreams?"
Raiyn shuddered in spite of himself. The night before, he had the vision of the Later—the same one he had before, on his birthday. It had shaken him enough to come to Iona for help, but he was finding it difficult to tell her the truth.
"What is it?" she demanded, her tone taking on an edge. Unlike his father, who tiptoed around him, or his mother, who was always phrasing things gently, Iona had no qualms speaking her mind. It was what made it intimidating to talk to her…but also the reason Raiyn knew she would be the most likely to tell him the truth.
"Yona…" he started, still watching the light dance across the stone above him. "If I asked you to tell me about my father's past, would you?"
Silence fell, and Raiyn finally glanced over at the Ancient oni. Her expression was reserved, but he could see her emotions buzzing around her. Wariness…anxiety. The same things Mama felt when I asked her, Raiyn realized. Unlike his mother, however, Iona's emotions quickly calmed back to their usual state. She didn't necessarily block Raiyn from seeing what she was feeling, the way his father did, but he had long suspected that she monitored her emotions closely when he was around.
"Hershel's past?" she said thoughtfully. "Everyone in your family has known him longer than I have, so why not ask one of them? In fact, why not ask Hershel himself? Unless it's something you feel that you are not supposed to know."
Raiyn scowled, turning his attention back to the ceiling. "You did not answer my question," he pointed out.
"It depends on what you're hoping to find out," Iona said evenly. "Not all old people are busybody gossips, you know." Iona began organizing various clumps of herbs, but after watching her work for a few minutes, it was clear that she was mainly just trying to look busy. "It's strange of you to be curious about the past. You're always going on about the future, after all."
"It's not that I don't care about the Before," Raiyn countered. "I just didn't think it mattered as much as the Later. But it's starting to feel like the Before is more important than I thought."
Iona didn't look up from her herbs. "In what way?"
Raiyn furrowed his brow. "When I see the Later, sometimes there are scary things. But even though they're scary, since I know that they will happen, I can help. That's why I feel like the Later is the most important—because it hasn't happened yet, so I can still try to change things."
"You've certainly gotten involved in a great deal of trouble because of your visions," Iona agreed softly. "Have you seen something else scary recently, that you feel you need to change?"
"Not exactly," Raiyn mumbled. "But ever since my birthday…I've been thinking more about the Before. Even though it's already happened and we can't change it doesn't mean that it isn't important. Everything I do in the Now will eventually become the Before and that doesn't mean that what I did isn't important anymore just because it's not in the Later or the Now anymore. If it was important in the Now then it stays important in the Before and can maybe even change the Later."
"I'm having a hard time following your train of thought," Iona said, and Raiyn sighed as he finally pushed himself upright.
"Seeing the Later isn't enough, if I don't understand what I'm seeing," he tried. "Sometimes, to understand the Later, I have to know things that happened in the Before."
"What is it that you've seen?" Iona pressed, fixing him with a stern look as she jumped back to the point. "And what has it got to do with your father's past?"
"I don't know," Raiyn admitted. "But when I started to tell him about it…he got scared. He won't answer my questions, even though I've tried a few times to talk to him about it." The light at the window faded as clouds moved across the sun outside, and the patterns on the ceiling disappeared. "I told him I saw a large rock out in the middle of the ocean, covered in flowers, and how it was strange because flowers shouldn't be able to grow right out of rocks. They were the same kinds of flowers that Mama likes, and…"
Raiyn looked up to see Iona studying him intently. He didn't sense any reaction from her, but he realized it was because Iona was suddenly actively hiding her feelings from him.
"You do know what it is, then," he realized. "What is that place, Yona? And what connection does it have to my father?"
"That place…" Iona started, but then her expression hardened. "Is nothing to be concerned with. I can understand why your father was unnerved to hear about it, but it's nothing more than a lump of rock in the ocean now—just as you described. It can't hurt anyone anymore."
Raiyn furrowed his brow in confusion. "Anymore? What do you mean? Did the rock used to hurt people, or there were things on it that—"
"What else happened in your dream, Raiyn?" Iona demanded, cutting off his question.
The boy shrugged uncommittedly. "I usually wake up soon after seeing the rock in the ocean covered with the flowers," Raiyn muttered, averting his gaze. He knew he was keeping the most important part to himself, but the feeling of frustration that had started with his talk with Hershel on his birthday was getting worse. If people weren't going to tell him the full truth, why should he trust them with it?
"I see. Then you can ease your mind. Like I said, it's just a harmless rock, whether your father is still afraid of it or not," Iona sniffed. "I can understand why you feel like you need to know more about the past to fully understand its significance, but in this instance, knowing about the past won't matter. The things that used to happen there can never happen there again…do you understand?"
"No," Raiyn snapped back. "Yona…I don't understand. That's why I came here to ask you about it!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Iona replied cooly. "Just because you have abilities no one else has doesn't mean you're entitled to know everything. Being able to see past and future events doesn't mean that you have some grand destiny, or that you're accountable for anyone's fate. If anything, you being born with these powers was a fluke, nothing more."
"If they're just a fluke, then why is everyone so afraid of them?" Raiyn threw back before he could think better of it. Iona stiffened, but Raiyn held her gaze, knowing that she could sense the frustration burning inside of him.
"We are not afraid of them…or of you," Iona corrected softly. "If anything, we don't want you to get so caught up in these visions that you can't even live your life. We don't want to see you swallowed up in some make-believe role that you've given yourself."
"I'm not trying to have any kind of destiny," Raiyn replied back as he pushed himself to his feet with a scowl. "I just want to figure out what I am, so I don't have to be so confused all the time!"
"What you are?" Iona replied, her eyebrow quirking. "What is that supposed to mean? You're an oni, and too young to be putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Listen to your elders, Raiyn. Your powers are slightly mutated from the norm, but other than that, you're just the same as everyone else."
Raiyn's hands balled into fists. "I don't believe you," he muttered, and Iona sighed.
"You know, you used to be such a happy boy," she lamented as she swept up the debris from the herbs she had been sorting. "Running around with the biggest grin, not a care in the world. Now every time I see you, you've got a fake smile plastered on your face, barely saying anything at all except to ask questions you shouldn't be concerning yourself with." She moved to a cupboard, and Raiyn stiffened when he saw the jar she pulled out. "The problem is these visions are taking over your life. You would feel so much better—"
"I won't drink it!" Raiyn snapped, backing away. Iona looked over at him while he glared at her. "Seeing the Later isn't the problem…the problem is that no one will tell me the truth!"
"No one is lying to you," Iona corrected firmly. "But there are some things even you do not have the right to know."
"Then I'm leaving," Raiyn muttered, and in the next instant, he had vanished from her home.
The southern fortress wasn't exactly known for being organized, at least not before Theodynn took it over. Still, the records room had always had its own kind of organization. Tyme had memorized its system long ago, so while the buckling shelves stuffed with scrolls and tables filled with various piles might intimidate others, he knew exactly where to go to get what he was looking for.
"That's weird," he mumbled, frowning at gaps in the bookshelf he was searching through. "I could have sworn…"
"Pilfering again?" a voice asked dryly, and Tyme froze. He knew there was no point in trying to lie, and he turned to face the stern-looking clerk behind him.
"I was just looking for…" he started, but trailed off as his father studied him coldly. When he never finished his thought, Yearnly sighed and moved to sift through the newest tax reports stacked on his desk.
"It's surprising you have time to come steal from me. I thought you were fully into this sword-swinging business now. Last I heard, you're moving to the Central Fortress with the boy-Ruler."
Tyme winced. He hadn't necessarily told Yearnly about his move, but it was unsurprising that the clerk was aware it was happening. Though most people avoided the shrewd, stern-faced man, he still somehow managed to know about nearly everything that was going on in the fortress.
"I've still got a few weeks left," he mumbled. "Initiation is in a month, and I have to pass that before they'll let me become a guard at the Central Fortress."
"And if you fail?" Yearnly asked, his words as sharp as any dagger. Tyme didn't answer, keeping his eyes downcast, and the clerk snorted. "Nevermind…I'm sure they'll find something to do with you. Ancients know there's always a job for someone who's learned the proper way to stab somebody."
"Um…Leader Theodynn wanted me to talk to you," Tyme said, avoiding eye contact as he started absently organizing the nearest table.
"If it's about the tax report, then I've already told him it will be ready by tomorrow," Yearnly muttered. "Is he using you as an errand boy now? Doesn't bode well for his confidence in your abilities."
"No, it's nothing to do with your work," Tyme insisted, though it caught him off guard to hear that his father was running late on a report. When was the last time Yearnly was late with anything? "It's about my move to the fortress. They wanted to ensure I had your permission to."
Yearnly paused, his gaze flicking up to meet Tyme's, and the young man forced himself to hold his father's gaze. They had the same eyes—one brown with a tawny pupil, and the other tawny with a brown pupil. It was times like these that Tyme understood why people told him that his inverted gaze was unnerving.
"My permission?" Yearnly repeated before snorting and going back to his work. "Whatever for?"
"I don't know," Tyme admitted. "I guess they thought you might care one way or the other."
"Ludicrous," the clerk scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, you stopped being my problem once you picked your own path in life. This sword-swinging career may or may not work out, but it's certainly not my business either way."
"Yeah, I figured you'd be fine with it," Tyme admitted, going back to shuffling scrolls and booklets into new piles. "But they told me I had to talk to you about it."
"Hmph. Central Fortressers certainly are busybodies," Yearnly muttered. "But I suppose if they insisted you discuss that with me, that's why you deigned to come here today. And here I was under the impression you snuck in here while I was gone on purpose, trying to find anything that included central fortress battle strategies and tactics."
Tyme's heart sank to his feet. There was no point in denying the accusation, as Yearnly had caught him searching the bookshelf full of war histories. The clerk seemed to be waiting for an answer, and Tyme finally moved to leave the room.
"Well, I'll tell Leader Theodynn I talked with you," he offered. "And I can tell him about the tax report thing too, if you want me to."
"No need," Yearnly said, but he called out as Tyme reached the doorway. "Was I wrong in assuming you wanted these?"
Tyme turned to see his father carrying a stack of books. Tyme blinked in surprise as Yearnly pushed the books into his arms.
"Are you sure?" he stammered.
"They're not to keep," Yearnly warned. "Obviously they'll need to be returned before you leave. Again…whether you succeed or not in this life you've chosen is not my problem, but if you need something from the record room, you have the right to ask to borrow it, same as anyone else in this blasted fortress."
"Thank you," Tyme offered, staring down at the books in surprise.
"You've already read them all multiple times, so I'm not exactly sure what you think you'll learn from doing so again…but I suppose that isn't my business," Yearnly scoffed before going back to his work. Tyme couldn't help but smile a little as he looked through the stack. He recognized the three books and the scroll immediately, but his smile faded as he realized there was an unfamiliar piece of parchment wedge in with everything else. He fished it out, squinting at his father's handwriting.
"Truyn?" he read. "What's a Truyn?"
Yearnly froze. "Ah, that wasn't supposed to be in there," he sighed, turning to come reclaim the parchment.
"What is it?" Tyme asked as he handed the paper back to his father.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Yearnly muttered, scowling down at the mostly blank page. "A research project, so to speak."
Tyme blinked. "Something Theodynn is asking you to look into?" he guessed.
"No," Yearnly admitted. "An old associate asked me to see if I could dig anything up about it, but I haven't had any luck here." He folded up the parchment and slipped it into his belt.
"What is it supposed to be?" Tyme asked, shifting the books he was holding into a more comfortable position. His father gave him a look that let him know he was being too curious, but surprisingly, Yearnly answered.
"A relic of some kind," the clerk said. "Other than that, not much is known other than rumors. It's said to predate the Oni-Dragon war, and that it wields some kind of great power."
"Before the war?" Tyme gaped. "But that's…that's basically before written history!"
"Don't say such things—it makes you sound illiterate," Yearnly scolded. "There was written history before the war…but it is true that the Truyn itself probably existed in a time that we have no record of now." He rubbed at his face. "Honestly, I have a feeling that it will be impossible to find any information about it. My associate has been researching it for years, and has far more resources than I do—if he hasn't been able to find anything, I won't be able to, I'm sure."
"Then why spend time on it at all?" Tyme asked, frowning at his father. They had never necessarily had a close relationship, but he knew Yearnly well enough to know he didn't waste his time with anything he didn't find important in some way.
The clerk shrugged, turning away. "He and I have an understanding," he offered vaguely. "Still, to be frank, I don't know that he really expects me to learn anything, anyway."
Tyme was quiet as he watched Yearnly head back over to the tax reports that he still hadn't finished. "Well…the Central Fortress keeps records, too," he pointed out. "Maybe once I'm stationed there, I could help you out."
Yearnly laughed bitterly. "Oh, don't bother. If you manage not to embarrass yourself at this Initiation of yours, you'll be far too busy for research projects."
I guess that's true, Tyme thought. He had surprised himself by even offering, but he should have known his father would turn him down.
"Well…if I do end up finding a place at the Central Fortress, you can still write to me if you need anything," Tyme offered quietly. Yearnly didn't answer, fully engrossed in his work now. Tyme glanced at his father one last time. "I know I didn't keep to the path you originally trained me for…but I am grateful for everything you've taught me."
"I can tell you've spent a lot of time around the Boy-Ruler," Yearnly replied dryly. "If nothing else, remember this: sentimentality won't get you anywhere in life, Tyme. Focus your attention on things that make more of a difference."
"Right," Tyme mumbled before leaving the records room at last.