Chapter 16
Yin
It doesn’t take long before someone knocks on my door. At first, I think it’s the arrogant Captain Yang. After all, he always seems to be there. He appeared while I was training with Mae, and stood there and stared at me the entire time. Though for the most part he is usually completely calm and collected, a few times I saw him smile.
That makes me hate him all the more. Whatever he thinks about me, he’s wrong. In fact, whatever any of them think about me, I’ll prove I don’t care.
Jumping angrily to my feet, I saunter over to the door, standing before it as somebody opens it roughly.
It isn’t Yang. In fact, it’s just two guards. They look amongst themselves warily, then cast their gazes over me.
They look… I can’t put my finger on it. It isn’t exactly scared, but it’s close. As I realize that, I smile.
I also cross my arms tighter. “Are you here to let the bear out so she can train again? Does Mae want to dress me up in pretty white shoes and watch me dance?”
“You’re coming with us,” one of the soldiers says flatly, though I sense a note of hesitancy, one that he covers up with a gruff cough.
“Don’t try anything,” the other soldier says as he tries to look at me severely. But he too can’t quite hide the fact he’s scared.
“And do I get to ask where I’m going?”
“You’re coming with us,” the soldier repeats, then he points with a stiff hand through the door.
“If you try anything, be warned, we are both competent sorcerers,” the other soldier says darkly.
I smile. “I’m sure you are,” I say sarcastically.
The soldiers exchange glances, then I watch as they stiffen their stances, curling their hands into fists.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself,” one of them warns.
Though I could happily go toe to toe with these two men all day, I find myself raising my hands and spreading my fingers in submission.
While I’m confident I can easily take these two men on, despite how proficient they claim to be, I still can’t risk it. I still don’t know where Castor is and why exactly he has left me here.
He’s meant to be my guardian, his sole task is to keep me safe until I summon Gaea.
But I’m hardly safe now, am I? So either the most loyal man in the world has suddenly abandoned his sacred task, or he has something planned. Something I don’t currently understand, but something I should trust in.
He did ask me to trust him. And with little effort, I can remember exactly how he looked at me when he pleaded with me last night.
So, closing my eyes for a brief moment, I let my hands drop, and I stare at my feet as I do.
For now, I will offer no resistance. Okay, a little resistance; these soldiers are so arrogant and chauvinistic that somebody needs to tell them off. But I won’t attack, I won’t escape, and I’ll keep myself mostly contained.
They lead me out into the corridor, and it is only then that I notice all of the other soldiers. They are carrying proper weapons, and with one glance at their armor, I can see it’s the stuff they usually drag out for heavy skirmishes.
It’s clear they’re expecting trouble.
But I don’t give it.
I walk forward quietly, my hands clasped, my messy hair hooked over both shoulders so I can hide behind its bulk.
I don’t bother asking where they’re taking me; it’s clear they are in no mood to chat. So I wait. We head through various narrow corridors, out into the square, and into a small building I’ve never seen before.
It’s more ornate than the drab buildings of the barracks. The first thing I notice are the paintings on the wall. In fancy, ornate, gilded frames are pictures of people I don’t recognize, but who I can guess the identities of nonetheless.
The Royal Family.
They are all lined up in a row, and from the frames to their prominence on the walls, their importance is obvious.
That makes me want to hurl a fireball right through every damn picture.
Castor taught me to believe no man nor woman could claim to be above another. There are no hierarchies in the world of souls. The trees and mountains and wind and rain don’t care if your parents were wealthy or held claim to a throne.
Blood, lineage, inheritance – it’s all irrelevant. The only thing that truly matters is our connection to Gaea, the spirit of life and light.
Everything else is a distraction. From the wars and kingdoms of man, to the tales they tell about themselves, everything blinds the eyes to the true reality.
I can’t exactly tell the stuffy soldiers leading me around that, though. So I bite down on my tongue and wait.
They instruct me to take a seat, pointing over to a simple bench set back at the far side of the room. It’s decidedly the least decorative thing in here. Well, apart from me.
Once I sit, the soldiers watch me warily for a few moments, then leave the room.
I push my back into the cold wall behind me and cross my arms.
If all I can do in this ridiculous, confusing situation is cross my arms at it, then that’s what I’ll do.
I wait a few minutes in relative silence, only the sound of training from the square outside filtering in. I can hear grunts and cries and the voice of some gruff-voiced disciplinarian snapping at his recruits to try harder. It vaguely reminds me of Castor. But then again, Castor was a far better trainer than any of these soldiers can ever be.
Despite the fact he possesses no magic of his own, his knowledge of combat and strategy is so complete, I swear there’s a library where his brain should be. An angry library.
Sitting there, I start to swing my legs back and forth.
Then, completely bored, I stand.
It’s only then I notice there’s someone in the room.
Toward the door, there’s a shape. Just an outline really.
A presence.
But as I focus on it, I realize it’s not something – it’s someone.
“What the—” I begin as I take a step forward.
Something resolves right out of the wall. Whereas once I saw little more than wood and paint, now I see a lithe man in a jet-black costume. The black fabric covers him completely, with only a slit for his eyes.
In my lonely mountain village, I didn’t have the opportunity to learn directly about the many magics that exist. What I learned, I picked up from Castor’s stories and the few ancient scrolls he possessed. Everything else was hearsay and fancy.
One story he told me, however, stuck. It was about a tribe in the eastern islands who practiced a special kind of mirage magic. According to Castor, they could manipulate the very air to conceal themselves.
I thought my master was simply telling stories, but now I realize he was right.
The man dressed in black takes a step forward. “You saw me,” he says in a quiet voice that hardly travels.
I stare at him with my lips pressed open in surprise.
Ordinary magic I know; it leaps through my bones and blood. It sings to me. Via the Arak device on my left wrist, I am always connected to it.
But this, this mirage magic – I have no base for comprehending it. It seems so very alien, it feels as though I’ve wandered into a dream.
The man takes several steps forward, dipping his head to the side as he watches me. Though I can see nothing more than his eyes, I can still register the curiosity flashing within. “There are few talented enough to see my kind.”
I go to step back, but realize there’s nowhere to go; my legs are already flush against the simple bench behind me.
Instead, I stand and stare.
“There’s no need to be alarmed; I intend you no harm. This was a test,” the man admits as he half bows. Yet he never takes his eyes off me. No matter where he moves, those two pinpricks of perfect clear blue are locked on me like a boat tethered to jetty.
I fight the urge to run the hell away. Instead, I blink my eyes closed and summon t
he power within.
I took on the haughty Mae, I defeated Captain Yang’s soldiers… kind of. So I can take on this man, I tell myself.
Though he walks toward me, he doesn’t do so directly. He dips and weaves and watches, like a predator circling its prey.
“What do you want?” I hiss.
“Nothing. You are merely being tested,” he admits again.
I draw in a stilling breath. As I do, I command the fire to burn.
The man looks down at my hands. Obviously, he can sense I’m drawing on my power. Yet, he doesn’t do anything. He stares at me curiously.
“If this test is over, then I guess I’m allowed to leave,” I ask, testing him as I take several steps toward the door.
“Yes,” he says, his head ducking to the side as he stares at me strangely once more.
I bite down on the panic. I know this man is trying to rattle me, and I will not permit myself to become unsettled.
Whatever the Royal Army wants, I won’t give it to them.
I take one wary step toward the door. It’s only about ten meters away. I can tell from the lack of shadows filtering underneath, that there’s no one standing behind it. Ostensibly, I could leave.
Before I make another move, I swivel my gaze back to the strange man. He’s still watching me like a prowling cat.
Grating my teeth together, I take another step.
This has to be a trap, I tell myself. As soon as I turn my back on this guy, he’s going to attack me.
Yet, the door is just there. I could get out. Heck, for all I know, the square outside could be empty, and I could make a good go at getting out of this place entirely.
Though I’ve already concluded that escaping isn’t safe, now, in the heat of the moment, my mind is reassessing that.
The longer I stay in these barracks, the riskier it is. At any time I could do something to accidentally reveal my true identity. Plus, without access to Castor, I have no idea what he truly intends. Maybe he’s expecting that I’ll flee – maybe he’s counting on it.
I hate this place, and I hate the arrogant, pride-filled soldiers and guards too. They live a life I’ve been taught to reject. From their fascination with protecting the wealthy dictators they call the Royal Family, to their warmongering, they live lives that curl my toes.
I can’t stay here. I can’t put up with their ‘tests.’ I have to escape and get back to my real task.
With those thoughts running through my mind, I snap.
I push forward, running for the door.
It’s only when I near it, that I realize there’s another mirage sorcerer in the room.
Without thinking, I fling myself to the side. My body knows what to do, and my mind follows up with a grunt.
Just as I dodge to the ground, rolling over the well-swept floor, something snakes out of the air.
That something is a fist.
It wasn’t there moments before – and neither was the body it’s attached to.
There’s another one of those sorcerers in the room. This entire time, and I hadn’t noticed.
As I scramble to my feet, I realize the other mirage sorcerer has disappeared. No door has been opened, and no window has been kicked in.
No. The man has slipped back into nothingness. Somehow using magic to hide himself from my eyes.
I stand in the center of the room, twisting on the spot as I desperately survey my surroundings.
My eyes are so far open, I swear I’m going to crack my cheeks, but I can’t close them.
I have to figure out where those two sorcerers are so I can attack.
All of a sudden, I feel a rush of air from behind me, and I push forward into a flip. I narrowly miss a foot as it comes swiping out of thin air.
Just as soon as it materializes, it disappears.
My heart is a mess in my ribcage, beating so wildly I fancy it will pop.
But it doesn’t, and I find the courage and gall to jump to my feet and keep searching for those men.
They could be anywhere. Worse than that, there could be more than two. For all I know, there’s one in every single chair, behind every piece of furniture, and lined along the walls.
Getting more and more desperate, I launch myself into a series of acrobatic flips, actually jumping clean over a table, just to ensure I keep on the move. If I stay in the same spot, I’ll be a sitting duck. If I have any hope, I have to keep moving, and preferably erratically.
As I conclude that, I suddenly change direction and leap directly up as if I’m trying to attach myself to the ceiling. As I jump, I swear I see the slightest flicker of a shadow at the far end of the room.
It’s so quick and indistinct that it could easily be a trick of the light.
I aim toward it, letting loose with a kick.
Though this room is nice, it won’t be when I’m finished with it. It looks like I’m going to get a chance to burn through those pictures after all.
I time my kick perfectly.
Though the move is powerful, it strikes nothing but air.
“We aren’t over there,” I hear the two men say.
Their voices echo from everywhere.
Instinctively I send magic bursting out in all directions. It singes the floor, blasts up the ceiling, and rattles the windows.
“Come with us,” they say.
I have a second to shake before I feel someone grab me by the collar as someone else kicks my legs out from underneath me.
I slam into the ground, but before I have a chance to fight back, someone strikes me hard across the jaw.
Then I’m dragged across the room and thrown out the door. It’s opened by an invisible hand, and the same invisible hand tosses me out without care.
I stumble, unable to gain my balance, and I crash down the steps until I’m back in the blasted square.
The stone underneath me is hard. I know from my fight this morning with Mae that the same stuff is enchanted.
It would have to be, after all – with the amount of sorcerer training going on here, you would need to protect the buildings, lest they are blown up every other day.
As I fall, it takes me barely a moment to right myself. I stumble to my feet, ignoring a drop of blood that issues from a cut just above my brow.
It doesn’t matter how much I bleed if I can’t find those two mirage sorcerers.
Staggering back I whirl around on the spot. Though I’m focused on identifying the mirage sorcerers, I can’t help but notice I have an audience.
Again.
I’m used to fighting alone with Castor. My fight with Captain Yang’s troops yesterday was the first time I’d displayed my powers in front of others.
For the second time today it looks as if I’m going to have to perform in front of a silent, judgmental crowd.
Great.
Just as I dart back once more, I feel another whoosh of air from behind, and something strikes me hard across the back, sending me flying.
I slam face first into those cursed stones, my lips cracking as I do.
Castor taught me never to show my back to an opponent. He didn’t mention those opponents could be invisible.
Trying not to groan as I get up, I force my mind to focus.
There must be a way to tell where those mirage sorcerers are; I sensed one before, and I can do it again.
I still my mind by drawing in a deliberate, slow breath.
Then I leap forward, plunging into a roll. As I jump up, I see the flash of a foot where I had once been.
I can tell they’re circling me, keeping their distance until they see an opportunity.
It’s what I’d do.
Out in the square, there’s less furniture to get in my way, but that doesn’t mean I suddenly unleash with a tower of magic. Though I could let loose with my power, something holds me back.
For my entire life, Castor has been trying to instill discipline in me. With every training session, he always emphasized I must learn to control myself. From fear to
instinct, I must learn to work with all my emotions in complete harmony.
Become too frightened, and you’ll cower until someone strikes their final blow. Become too relaxed, however, and your senses will become too dull for the fight.
No. You can neither embrace nor fully reject fear. You must find your balance.
Find your balance.
That’s Castor’s motto, and it’s one that springs to mind now.
I can’t all-out attack for the fear I’ll waste my magic, allowing myself to become tired without furthering the battle.
Plus, I will distract myself if I just attack randomly, trying to strike it lucky.
That, after all, is what I did to Mae this morning. I allowed her to attack and attack, using her own ferocity to distract her from my spell.
That’s what these mirage sorcerers are trying to do to me now, I’m sure of it.
I won’t fall for their trap.
Instead, I contain myself and conserve my energy for dodging.
I no longer flip around wildly; I only jump back when I feel an impending attack.
Find your balance.
Just as I repeat that, I narrowly miss a kick that’s aimed right at my head. The leg and foot, covered in black fabric, come snaking out of the air as if they’ve been drawn there by the hand of god.
I push back, the force of the kick blowing my hair over my forehead.
I shift to the side as a punch comes rocketing from my side.
I dodge.
Then I dodge again as another punch sails close to my gut.
I’m still aware of my audience. In fact, though I can hardly stop, turn, and count, I swear it’s getting bigger with every second.
Worse than that, however, I recognize one of the soldiers. The man in the heavy black armor from last night – the General. He’s standing close to the open door I was flung through.
I can’t pause to register his expression, but I can bet it isn’t nice.
Find your balance.
If Castor were here, that’s all he would say. Then again, if Castor were here, these two mirage sorcerers would have been dealt with long ago.
Castor has always had uncanny senses; he knows what you’re going to do well before you do it. He can read your body before your own mind can. Over the years he’s tried to instill this skill in me, but I am a poor student. Ordinary magic I can understand, but the magic of the mind is still a mystery to me.
The two sorcerers heat up their attacks, and they kick, punch, and leap.
Somehow I keep on my toes and dodge, though. Using every acrobatic skill Castor taught me, I stay out of their way.
Barely.
I’m using every skill I know, and all my energy too. I haven’t even started to attack.
I just have to figure out where they are. If I can find a target, then this fight will be over.
These mirage sorcerers might be powerful, but without the ability to hide themselves, they’re just men. Fair enough, if they were equipped with blades, then this battle would be distinctly harder. In fact, as I imagine that, I realize that’s likely what they’re used for: assassins. Silent and virtually undetectable. Though I want to believe no one would use them like that, I don’t have any faith in this Kingdom and its army. I’ve seen how far they’re willing to go – rounding up old men and drafting them without a care.
Still, right now these mirage sorcerers don’t have blades. They are, no doubt, just a test. A vicious one, but a test nonetheless.
However, unlike Castor, I’m pretty sure they’re willing to hurt me, just not kill me yet.
I skip to the side as a hand gropes out and latches onto my wrist. It pulls me forward just as a knee appears out of nowhere. I jerk back, but can’t get free. The knee slams into my nose, blood cascading out in an arc.
I don’t even bother screaming.
I just redouble my efforts to locate them.
I fought Mae, I can fight these invisible men.
If I find my balance.
Though I’ve been running and dodging for a solid 10 minutes, I am not done.
In fact, it’s time to get started.
Just as I feel a foot push toward my head, I lean right into it. I let it kick me.
Right across the face. My head jerks back from the move, blood escaping over my lips and chin.
That’s not me giving up, though. It’s me figuring out just how hard these guys are willing to fight.
The answer my ringing head gives me is very hard. Unlike Mae, they don’t hesitate. If I leave them an opening, they snap in and take it with criminal ease.
So, if they aren’t going to hesitate, it means I need to find some other way to fight them.
While the stones below me are strong, they are still well worn, and there’s dust caked between them. No doubt the dust produced by countless soldiers training for countless years, their heavy armored boots grating across the cobbles and smoothing them down.
Well, right now, I realize I can use that dust. There may be no weapons to speak of, nor any objects to hide behind. But I know you’re only as good as the opportunities you can find.
I find the dust.
Experimentally, I jump up, and land, striking the ground with all my might.
Sure enough, the dust erupts up in a small cloud.
Almost immediately the two sorcerers attack, but I dodge easily. It doesn’t matter that my face is covered in blood and my limbs are starting to fatigue from constant activity; I push past that.
Once more, I jump up and slam down, this time forcing magic to shoot out at my move. It bursts from my knuckles as they impact the stone, and I send it traveling deep into every groove between the cobbles.
A hand appears behind me and clutches at my throat. I lean forward and roll, using my momentum to break free.
Then I do it once more. I leap up and land, forcing magic to burst out into the cracks between the stones, unsettling all the dust I can.
I don’t want to burn the dust – I want to set it flying. That it does. In great clouds, it starts to billow around me.
For the first time, I feel the mirage sorcerers hesitate. They don’t throw themselves at me – they back off.
I take the opportunity. Summoning magic – as much as I can – I beat the ground one last time. This time I send my power as far out as it’ll go, commanding it to dig deep into the stones, uprooting as much dust as it can find.
It erupts up in a great cloud.
A cloud that stretches for a good 20 meters around me.
I don’t pause.
I push both my hands forward, plunging my burning fingers into the fine rock dust.
I set it all on fire. I push my magic into the first few particles and watch it multiply and jump forth until the entire dust cloud is alight.
Then I hear them and see them. With two gasps, the mirage sorcerers stumble back.
They’re both behind me.
I dip to the ground, roll, and jump toward the men.
I see them both turning and trying to run. I don’t give them the chance.
Leaping into the air, I slam myself into the closest one, bringing my body down in a great tackle. Without pause, I twist around the falling man, using him as leverage, and flip forward, collecting the other sorcerer right in the gut with a powerful kick.
They both hit the ground with thumps.
They go to get up. I command my Arak bangle, forcing magic to pump through my body. It races over me in a great wash of white sparks.
The cloud of dust is still on fire, and sparks settle all over my skin and hair. But they don’t burn me; they are me. They’re borne of my magic, and they can’t hurt me.
The two mirage sorcerers, however, are a different matter. Their black costumes smolder, and I watch them pat at their arms and legs.
I don’t move – I keep standing there with my arms aflame with magic, only a meter away from them.
I go to step forward.
“Enough,” I hear someone comman
d in a rumbling tone.
Slowly I turn.
Through the crackling dust, I notice two sorcerers leap down into the square. They both set about removing my flaming dust cloud – chanting and waving their hands about it.
I mutter a, “ha,” and walk away.
Not toward the General that commanded me to stop, but back in the direction of my room.
I’m done here. This test is over. I have no idea whether I’ve passed and pleased my captors, and I don’t care.
I can’t deny, however, that I’ve learned something. Though it took me a while, I figured out how to fight mirage sorcerers, and maybe that will be worth something to me one day.
For now, however, it’s time to return to my room.
I don’t get the chance.
I notice the General marching up to me, several large guards walking with him. These soldiers are wearing armor I haven’t seen before. It’s black and white, with dragons emblazoned across the front and back. The dragons are not breathing fire and raining destruction down upon hapless villagers, though; they are swallowing their own tails.
Though Castor never spoke much of our kingdom and its capital, on occasion he mentioned how important symbolism is to the army and the Royal Family. Every one of their traditions, he told me, harks back to some symbol, some metaphor, some legend.
I can’t tell what dragons swallowing their own tails is meant to symbolize, but I can guess it’s important. Just as I can guess these soldiers are too.
Though I feel like being surly and ignoring them, I quickly find my path being blocked by other guards.
“General Garl wishes to see you,” one of them says. As he speaks, I can see his eyes staring out at me from under his helmet.
He looks fearful. Surprised. Impressed. Astonished even.
Yet as I swivel my gaze to the General and his special guards, I note they look completely composed. Well, the guards do – the General has an odd and completely unsettling look in his eyes.
“If you’re about to demand I join your army, don’t bother. I’m never going to fight for you,” I say before he can speak.
He narrows his eyes. “They tell me Castorious Barr trained you. Is this true?”
I press my lips together and stop speaking.
“I see a little of him in you. He always taught his pupils to adapt to their environments,” Garl continues.
I don’t say a word. It’s one thing to taunt and intimidate these arrogant soldiers, but it’s another thing when they question me about Castor.
I know I must keep my secret, and Castor’s too. They mustn’t know I’m the Savior, and they can’t guess that he’s my guardian.
So I stand there and hold my tongue.
“You have nothing to say? My soldiers inform me you are usually brimming with inane comebacks and language inappropriate for a woman. But now you are mute?”
I cross my arms at the phrase “language inappropriate for a woman,” but I don’t speak.
Garl looks me up and down. “You will either submit to training, or you will be killed,” he suddenly says flatly.
I blink back my surprise.
Though people have threatened me, this is the first time someone has done so with something concrete. Death, to be precise.
“I wager you believe you are strong enough to take on a unit of my men. And perhaps you are. But you are not nearly trained enough to take on these men,” Garl opens his hands wide, indicating the soldiers in white and black armor behind him. “Should I order it, they will kill you. There will be no fanfare, no final warning. With nothing more than a look from me, they will end you.”
I blink, breathing erratically.
“Do you understand me?” Garl asks quietly.
I don’t answer.
“Do you understand me?” he screams, his voice so loud and brutal it makes me shake.
I gasp.
He stares at me with nothing but concentrated hatred.
I make the mistake of looking past him at his guards. Not one of them registers any emotion at all. They barely look human, in fact. They just appear to be men carved out of black and white ice, their expressions colder than any I have seen before.
“Do you understand me?” Garl asks once more, his voice dropping so low I can barely hear it.
I nod, my head jerking with the move.
“You will have no preferential treatment; you don’t deserve it. You will be treated as a captive until you prove yourself to be something more. Wherever you go, you will be shadowed by these men.”
I keep shaking, the fear rising through me.
I can’t die. Not now, not here. Not when I have such an important destiny before me.
.…
I have to do what he says.
Or do I? Is he actually being honest? Would he really have me killed?
Maybe he sees my indecision, because he takes a menacing step closer. Despite the fact he’s in thick, sturdy, immaculate armor, and is accompanied by guards, I don’t step back.
I might be afraid, but I find my balance.
I stare up at him.
“My soldiers and I are prepared to do whatever it takes to protect this kingdom and our Royal Family. Anything.”
I hold my ground. I might be terrified on the inside, but I don’t let it show.
“You might not fear for your life, but I’m sure your fear can stretch to others,” he warns.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask quickly, my heart skipping a beat.
“Your decision will affect more than you yourself.”
He’s being deliberately opaque, but the twist of cold nerves in my gut tells me his threat, though veiled, is real.
“If you threaten this Kingdom – those that I care about and am devoted to protecting – I’ll find someone you care about,” he says.
I grit my teeth as hard as I can. “I don’t care about anyone. I’ve always been a loner.”
“You trained under the great Castorious Barr for years – were you alone then?”
“What are you saying?”
“That this army will find a way; we always do. For we appreciate what is at stake.”
“You’re going to threaten Castor?” I ask in stuttering disbelief. Then, unable to hold it in, I let out a short, sharp laugh. “I’m one thing – but not even your guards here would be able to take on Castor. Trust me,” I say, my voice echoing around the square with power. “Plus, you need him.”
Garl doesn’t blink once. His gray, sallow skin offsets the intensity of his gaze. A gaze that, if given hands, would be right around my throat, squeezing the life out of me.
I swallow, but it isn’t a dramatic move. As I do, I call on my courage.
“Don’t assume anything. I warn you, unless you want to tap the depths of my wrath, do not challenge me,” his eyes dart across my face, as if he’s daring me to make even the smallest sign of rebellion.
I control myself.
I stand there and let him win.
Maybe this is a fight I can’t afford to win.
To confirm that fact, he leans back. “You may consider yourself a loner, but nobody is ever truly alone. We all have our weaknesses and soft spots. If you challenge me, I will find yours. I will make it bleed.”
With that, Garl turns to walk away. “You will be given instructions. Follow them. You will be trained, and if you wish to keep my favor, you will be diligent, silent, and loyal. Now, go and have your injuries seen to and report back to the square.”
“I’m not injured,” I whisper as the enormity of what he’s said hits me.
.…
He’s going to find my soft spot and make it bleed. The people I’ve known, the friends, however few… if I don’t do exactly what he says, he’s going to hurt them. I know he’ll do it – I see it in his eyes. I feel it in the way he looks at me. Garl is a man willing and prepared to go to any extreme.
He could go after Castor, heck, he could even go after my village, burn it down and destroy t
he home I love so dearly.
.…
I… I have to do what he says. There’s no way out.
“Your hand is bleeding,” Garl says as he walks away. “Go see the doctor, and return to training. I trust I will not have to speak to you again.”
As he walks away, I stare at my right hand, then my left.
As I bring my left hand up, I practically jump back at what I see.
While my face got a beating from those mirage sorcerers, I can feel the bleeding has stopped, and my magic will deal with the bruising soon enough. Yet as I stare at my left hand, I’m met by a harrowing sight: it’s covered in blood. Absolutely covered. The whole palm and all my fingers, just dripping in blood as if I’ve plunged a knife deep into my palm.
I shudder back.
I don’t remember hurting myself. I don’t remember feeling anything at all. In fact, as I stare in horror at my mysterious injury, I realize I can’t feel it at all. There’s blood alright, but just no pain.
Eventually, several soldiers walk up and mutter that I’m to follow them to the medical facilities.
I let them lead me with no resistance. In fact, I don’t say a thing as I palpate my left hand, looking for any sign of injury.
I can’t find one.
.…
I’m not cut.
So where did the blood come from?