The evening came and went in a tormenting blur. If she wasn’t screaming at imagined monsters, Ashea was crying, always something about her father. When Jarin asked Naiara if she knew why, she became evasive and said it wasn’t a story she could tell him. He could understand and respect that, but it was still a curiosity that was beginning to annoy him. Had she known her father well before her time with the Paladai? Had he truly abandoned her? It had only been an assumption born of ignorance, he admitted, but what if it wasn’t so far from the truth? Why else would she cry out for him not to leave her? Of all the things she had screamed throughout the night, that had been the most prevalent.
“Naiara?” Jarin said as he helped her prepare breakfast. “Why is it you and Kade are so certain of this cure? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“The Paladai use datura,” she answered. That wasn’t much help.
“Plenty of people use datura. That doesn’t mean they have a cure,” he said flatly.
“Tell me, boy, what do you know of the Paladai? Truly?”
He had to think about it. What did he know for certain about them? They were secretive, for one. Obviously deadly. Cold hearted was pretty descriptive. But these were things everyone knew about the Paladai, because that was what the Paladai wanted them to know. Honestly, there was little he actually knew about them.
“That’s what I thought,” she said when he didn’t answer. “You sit down with these,” she said, passing him a bowl filled with unshelled beans, “and I will tell you what I can.” He had never shelled beans before, so Naiara had to demonstrate before going back to her own work. “Do you know how a person joins the Paladai?”
“I suppose they have to kill someone, prove their resolve,” he guessed.
“Well” she said with a scoff, “it’s not entirely inaccurate, but not quite. All candidates must prove themselves in combat, but they must also train under the four disciplines: Isilio, the drak trainers; Kovril, the infiltrators; Karys, the soldiers; and Daktari, the healers. If they pass their tests – and they must by their twentieth year – they will be accepted into one of the disciplines. Children of Paladai are exempt from the tests, but they are, shall we say, highly encouraged to perform the final test. It is the most demanding and most lethal of all the tests.”
“I thought you said killing people wasn’t supposed to be part of these tests,” Jarin interjected.
“This isn’t about candidates killing other candidates. Not exactly, anyway. If there are enough candidates, they only test on themselves. If not, they’ll use a known criminal who has been sentenced to death. If the criminal survives, sometimes they are given their freedom. But I digress. The candidates are chosen at random, paired off, and then one of the Daktari poisons one candidate from each pair. It’s always something fast acting, like datura, and then the other candidate must correctly identify the symptoms so the antidote can be given. Choose wrong, the poisoned candidate dies, either from the poison or the intended cure.”
Jarin could feel his stomach turn. “That’s barbaric. You’re talking about killing children. How can you support people who would do such a thing?”
“None under fourteen years old may take it, but it is the candidate’s choice when to take the final test. They all know what is expected and the potential danger, and no one is ever forced to take the test. Additionally, it is an important lesson for them to learn. All actions have consequences. They must make life and death decisions on a regular basis, often in a split second. There are no true second chances in life. They learn this in the most difficult way imaginable. If they fail to save their comrade, they must take the place of one chosen to be poisoned. If they survive their turn, they are free to leave the Paladai or stay on as a worker. However, they must forever wear the mark of those that have failed, and they are never again allowed to take the test. They will never truly be Paladai.”
He was almost afraid to ask, but he had come this far. He wanted to know everything he could. Maybe she would tell him something he could use somehow. He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t know unless he learned more about them. “And what is the mark of a failed candidate?”
She stopped what she was doing. “Are you sure you wish to know?” No, he wasn’t sure. But maybe if he could identify the true Paladai from the non-Paladai, maybe it could work to his advantage.
“Yes,” he replied.
She set down the spoon she had been using, her hands moving to her belt. She removed it and set it on the counter. She then opened her shirt and let the left side fall to reveal her shoulder. He couldn’t help but grimace at the sight. A brand in the shape of a drak head with two slashes crossed over it was burned into her shoulder. Why anyone would want to stay knowing this kind of torture was ahead of them was beyond his comprehension.
“You tried to join them,” he concluded. No wonder she possessed such knowledge and accepted their barbaric customs. She had wanted to be just like them.
“I ended up killing a boy five years younger than me with my stupidity. I deserved the punishment I received,” she said, covering herself up again. “The point of the story is Paladai never use a poison they have no cure for. They use datura. They have a cure.”
It was hard for Jarin to digest everything he had learned. She knew exactly what was in store for her, yet she continued with the test. Even after she survived her own bout of poisoning she still stayed with these horrible people to accept their brand, forever to be known as a failure.
“If you knew you would receive the brand, why stay? The Paladai don’t seem like a forgiving lot. You must have been ridiculed multiple times over the years.”
She let out a sigh before taking a seat across from him. “It’s true, I knew what I was getting into, but I owed that boy. And after what happened last night, I am glad I stayed. I’ve never truly had the chance to repay the man who was able to spare my life. Now I can by watching over his daughter and keeping her safe until Kade returns.”
“Wait. Her father is a Paladai?” That’s not what he expected.
“One of the best the Order has ever seen, and he taught his daughter well.”
“Then her mother is a Paladai, too?” That would be the only other logical conclusion. It all made sense now. Her parents never abandoned her. They raised her to be a cold, calculating killer. That was probably worse than being abandoned.
“No, she wasn’t. Amaia, Ashea’s mother, was a simple Dacian woman who happened to fall in love with a Paladai.” Now he was dumbfounded. What mother in her right mind allowed her daughter to become a Paladai? Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she had wanted to join the Paladai like Naiara but lacked the training necessary. “I remember the day her father first saw Amaia. He was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on her. If he wasn’t already sworn to the Order, I know he would have left it for her, taken her far away from both kingdoms, away from this war. But he had to stay.”
“I don’t understand. He is a Paladai. I thought he craved war and battle.”
“He never had any other choice. He was abandoned as a child. Only the Paladai would take him in. He could have chosen to leave when he turned twenty, but they were the only family he had ever known. He didn’t meet Amaia until about ten years after earning his tattoo, and abandoning the Order is never an option. So he stayed, married her in less than a year, and built them a home as far away from the compound in the Avarian capital as he could.”
That didn’t make any sense. Paladai were supposed to live in their compounds. Weren’t they? “Why would he do that? And why would she leave Dacia for Avar?”
“Ashea’s father was the closest thing Kade had to a second in command, and Kade preferred the Avarian capital. Amaia didn’t care either way. Love does strange things to a person,” she said with a wistful smile.
“But why would he want to live away from the compound?”
“He wanted a family, but he didn’t want any children he had to become Paladai. He tried to keep her away, but I don’t know how easy it was after Amaia died, though.”
“Her mother is dead? When did this happen?” He didn’t know why he cared so much, or if he even did. The words were out before he could think of stopping them.
“I’m sorry. I’ve said more than I should have.” She stood and retreated back to her pot. He wasn’t about to let her get away so easily.
“Please, tell me what you know,” he said, abandoning the beans.
“It’s not my place, Jarin. I shouldn’t have said all those things about her family. You can never tell her what you know. Do you understand me?” she said sternly.
“What would be the harm in me knowing? Please, Naiara. My whole life I’ve been led to believe Paladai are evil creatures, but the man you’ve described is none of those things. You have to tell me more,” he implored. He might learn more about Kade in the process. That information could be invaluable.
“If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Ashea, but I doubt you’ll get anything out of her. And if you ever want to learn the harm of knowing about another person’s history, why don’t you just tell Ashea your story. Let’s see how long you survive,” she challenged.
“You could at least answer me this,” he said, hoping to get one last thing out of her, something that had been bothering him. “You said he was Kade’s second in command, that he wanted to keep his family far away from the Order, and all night I heard her yell about her father, something about him leaving. Did he abandon the Order, try to take her with him? Was he killed for it?” It was the only thing he could think of. He didn’t want to be part of the Order, not really, and he wanted his child far away from it. With her mother dead he would have to be more involved in Ashea’s life than before, which meant more exposure to the Paladai. Was execution the punishment for trying to leave? Jarin could believe Kade ordering such a thing.
Stolen novel; please report.
She gave a heavy sigh before finally answering, “No, he wasn’t; and he never left Ashea by choice. That’s all I can tell you. I’m afraid you’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
He most certainly wasn’t, but there was no way of forcing her to answer. There were only two other people who would possibly have the answers to his questions, and one of them was laying on her death bed. The other, Kade, would sooner kill him. If there was another, he didn’t know who it would be.
“Go get some more water. We need to keep her fever down,” Naiara said and tossed him a bucket.
“What if those Hunters are out there waiting?”
“Believe me, boy, if they were there and wanted us dead, they would have already done something about it. We’re safe for the time being. Do as you’re told,” she scolded and shooed him out the door.
While he could admit she did have a point, it was still odd the Hunter hadn’t come back to finish the job. If he was smart, he was surely watching the house and had to know Kade was gone. That left an old woman, a dying Paladai, and him to deal with. If they were as skilled as they seemed to be, he doubted they would have much trouble. So why hadn’t the Hunter come back? And why was it supposed to be so safe in general during the day at one of these safe houses? Nothing was adding up. If he was lucky, Naiara might give him a little more information.
Trying to keep his paranoia in check, Jarin quickly filled the bucket and walked as fast as he could back to the house without spilling. With the water safely delivered, Naiara made up several compresses, placed them in a bowl, and handed them to him. “Take these in, change out the old ones. Be careful, Jarin. Don’t try to talk with her. She’ll try to convince you she’s in her right mind, to release her from her restraints. You can’t do it, no matter how tempting. Datura can make a person violent, and the last thing you need is a loose, belligerent Paladai.”
That he could agree with. She hadn’t really hurt Kade last night when she attacked him, but he got the sense neither of them were putting real effort into hurting the other. Maybe a piece of her sane self was still there in the fog of her clouded mind. But he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t know her well enough to be able to gage what was real and what wasn’t. He was about to protest going in at all, but one look from Naiara told him he had no choice.
He had to move carefully about the room since the only source of light came from the small crack where the shades covered the windows. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he could make out the outlines of the bed, side table, and chair as well as Ashea’s sleeping form.
Being as silent as possible so as not to wake her, he moved toward the bed and set the bowl down on the small side table. Compresses covered her arms, legs, abdomen, forehead, any area of exposed skin Naiara could find. If her fever wasn’t brought down, it could kill her before the poison had the chance to run its course. Jarin removed the now warm pieces of cloth from her skin and began replacing them with the new, cool ones. When all that was left were her arms and forehead, he noticed she was beginning to stir. Not good.
“Kade?” she groaned.
What should he do? Naiara told him not to speak with her, but it seemed so harmless to correct her. Wouldn’t she be more upset if he said nothing?
“No, it’s Jarin,” he said gently, quickly changing one arm.
“Jarin…where’s Kade?”
He was going to regret it. He knew he was going to regret it. Naiara was going to come in at any moment and scold him for this. And if she didn’t, he was sure she was waiting just outside the door for him so she could reprimand him then.
“He went for help.” Maybe if he kept his answers short and to the point, he wouldn’t get in trouble. Maybe he could talk her back to sleep. Only one compress left, and then he could get out of there.
“Help,” she mused dreamily. “You have to help me, Jarin. Untie me.”
He couldn’t do that. That would get him in trouble. Telling her no was definitely going to get him in trouble. There was no way out of it. Why did he have to say even one word to her? Naiara told him not to for a reason, and this was it.
He quickly changed the final compress and stood with a hasty, “I’m sorry, Ashea. I can’t do that.”
Had she not been tied down, he knew she might have killed him. She lashed out, her restraints barely holding her down as she shouted, “You stupid Dacian! I’ll kill you! I swear, by all the gods, I will kill you!”
He couldn’t get away fast enough before hands grabbed him and pulled him from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Next time someone tells you to do something, do it. You might get to keep your life awhile longer,” Naiara scolded.
“But I–”
“I don’t want to hear it, boy. Just do as you’re told from now on.”
From then on he stayed away from Ashea’s room and did whatever Naiara asked of him. As they sat alone he asked her what made places like this safe from the Hunters. She told him Hunters were willing to kill non-Paladai in hopes of getting their real prize, but they didn’t want to go through the effort of just killing anyone in the houses. Even if they took the life of the owner of the house, it would gain them nothing without the proof of the tattoo, except perhaps death. While they were considered failures to the Order, all safe house keepers were still skilled warriors. It kept them safe during the day, and at night if Paladai were to be staying, they stayed in numbers, which kept the less dangerous Hunters away. She agreed it was a small miracle the Hunter, if that was indeed who it was, had not returned.
As evening fell, Ashea’s screams and ranting began again. This time, however, she sounded more violent, which Jarin wasn’t sure was possible. He only hoped the drak was as fast as Kade claimed and would be back soon. If she got any worse, the restraints would not be able to hold her for much longer.
“Are you sure he’ll make it back in time?” Jarin asked for what may have been the thousandth time.
“Zaina is still one of the fastest draks, and Kade won’t tarry about,” Naiara said, a hint of irritation in her tone. “Stop worrying so much about if he’ll make it but when he’ll make it. We’ll need to move quickly once he gets here with Feron.” She had spent the better part of the evening reading pots and bowl and other herbalist tools so the Daktari could get straight to work.
“Naiara, what–”
There was a loud crash from Ashea’s room that sounded like wood being broken before the shattering of glass. They were both on their feet in an instant, Naiara yanking the door open. The bed was a mangled mess, and the window was no more than shards.
“Dear gods,” Naiara breathed. “We have to find her. If she isn’t here when Kade returns…”
She didn’t need to finish the thought for him to know what would happen. They would both be dead. “Come on. She can’t have gotten far,” he said and hurried to the door.
“Don’t underestimate her. She’s quick when she wants to be,” Naiara called behind him.
He ran outside and around to the broken window, quickly surveying the darkening scenery around him. There was no sign of her and no sounds of running footsteps to give him a clue. As if the day could have gotten any worse than this.
“Ashea,” he called out, “come back!”
Nothing.
“Ashea!”
He thought he heard something around the front of the house. She’d gone around? How, without him hearing? He’d worry about that after he’d found her and gotten her back inside. He ran to the front but found nothing, not even Naiara.
“Ashea?”
He never got the chance to turn around before something came crashing on top of him. He tumbled to the ground and rolled before coming face-to-face with Ashea, a knife in her hand, trying to run it through his chest. He took hold of her wrists before bringing his leg up to her torso, kicking her up, over, and off him.
They were both back on their feet in a moment, Ashea charging at him, a feral look in her eye. He wished his sword hadn’t been taken away. She rushed again, the knife slashing wildly through the air. He managed to evade her, grabbing her wrists in both hands. She brought her knee up, striking him between the legs, and once again had him on the ground. He held onto her wrist with both hands as the knife came dangerously closer.
“Ashea, stop,” he ground out as she struggled harder to force the knife down.
His grip slipped and the knife came down barely missing his chest and cut across his collar bone. He cried out, his shoulder on fire with pain. Again she raised the knife. He tried to hold her off, but with his injury it was near impossible.
She pulled back, struck him across the face. The blow stunned him long enough for him to lose his grip completely. The world seemed to slow down for a moment. He could see the knife coming toward him, see the sharp blade threating to pierce right through him. And all at once, everything seemed to stop. There was a rush of air, and suddenly the knife was no longer in her hand.
Her gaze turned sharply in the direction the air had come from. He turned as well to see what was probably the most welcome sight he’d ever seen. Kade was there, atop Zaina, with another man, the Daktari he presumed. Kade had a bow in his hands, an arrow nocked and ready to fire.
“Release him, Ashea,” Kade ordered. She reached over Jarin and picked up her knife, but instead of attempting to attack him again, she stood and took several steps toward Kade, who was dismounting his drak, his bow still held at the ready. “Drop the knife.”
She didn’t do what he said. She gripped the knife tighter and seemed to smile a cruel, challenging smile.
“Kade? Feron?” Naiara appeared from the other side of the house, surprise covering her features.
“Get in the house, Naiara,” Kade ordered, never taking his eyes off Ashea. Naiara quickly did as she was told. “You all right, boy?” Jarin covered his wound with his hand as best he could, pulling himself up into a sitting position, and nodded. “Drop it, Ash. I won’t say it again.”
She just smiled at him. She then charged at him. Kade loosed his arrow, but she deflected it with her knife. Without a moment’s hesitation Kade dropped his bow and charged at her. As they met, Kade grabbed for the knife and ripped it from her hands, tossing it aside. It did little to stop her. Jarin thought she was scary when he’d seen her take out the robbers in the woods. That was nothing in comparison to the way she fought against Kade. The last time they fought, they had clearly been holding back. Maybe it was because somewhere in her mind she knew she would have to be more creative to have a chance against Kade, the one person who was supposed to be the best fighter in the Paladai Order. Their movements were almost too fast for Jarin to be able track them as they both hit and parried each other almost as if it had been rehearsed. Ashea’s technique was sloppy compared to Kade’s in her current condition, but that did little to detract from the accuracy of her hits.
When Kade finally had the upper hand, he got behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck. She clawed at his arms, and when he refused to let go, she bit him until she drew blood. He grimaced, but he did not loosen his grip. Moments later she stopped struggling and went limp in his arms, unconscious.
He checked her to make sure she was all right before gathering her up in his arms and making his way toward the house. “Feron, help the boy.”
Feron, an older man with long grey hair and a grizzled beard, did as asked, albeit begrudgingly. He linked an arm around Jarin’s uninjured arm and helped him to a standing position, letting him lean on him as they made their way back to the house. Despite his obvious age, his frame was solid as he supported Jarin. As they neared the door, the sound of approaching hoof beats stopped them.
They all turned to greet five horsemen, each one dressed in black cloaks, the emblem of a bow with a crossed knife and arrow at their shoulders unfamiliar to Jarin. Feron’s stare turned cold as did Kade. Judging by the weapons he could see on the men and the stares his companions were giving, these must be Hunters. They’d finally returned to finish the job.