The others accomplished their attacks with seeming ease. Her long black hair a tangled cape behind her, Marana looked terrifying. She could have been a jelkom gathering bad children up for sale to the Dhesiri. Lothar, on the other hand, looked very heroic. His bird leveled off early and glided through a swoop that picked the rider out of the saddle without the horse noticing or being spooked. Others in our group did well: a couple missed their first attempt, but succeeded in the end.
The Elite instructor addressed all of us once he'd landed. "You all did an adequate job here today. Lothar was the best of you. His attack could have removed the last in a line of soldiers without alerting the others in the troop. Nolan's attack, while very pretty and daring, is not a tactic a newly trained rider should use. It is just as likely to cripple the Hawk as it to succeed. Remember that."
He looked hard at me. I nodded and blushed. "Justices tend to think of a Hawk as a fast, feathered horse, but it is a weapon. It is an unpredictable weapon that will eat you as easily as it will eat a target." He waited a moment to make sure we understood the gravity of his warning; then he waved us away.
He ordered us to run the four miles back to Talianna. We passed the Elites coming across the meadow to get their birds. The Elites would fly them back to Talianna as we ran in, and, although the distance was really short compared to our normal training, all of us thought the Elites had life easy.
"Well, Nolan, did you apply to enter the wrong branch of the service?" Lothar ran up next to me. We were both in the middle of the pack. We knew it was a good position to be in to sprint the last leg of the run to Talianna and "win" the race back.
"Me, an Elite? You heard the instructor. By this time I'd have ruined fourteen Hawks." I spat as Lothar laughed. "The birds are fine, but I prefer caring for a sword to a bird. Swords can't eat you."
Lothar laughed. "Call your sword a tsincaat."
I frowned. "Why the formality? They won't be tsincaats until we pass the final tests and get through the Ritual of the Skull."
"Practice, Nolan, practice." Lothar shook his hands out and wiped his palms on his tunic. "Even after a full year of training you're the worst of any of us at speaking High Tal. You need the practice."
"Finde thee thys any the better?" High Tal was a chore because all the words were older and harder to pronounce. The syntax made the tongue slow and precise. That precision and deliberateness was what Talions wanted, however, so I was forced to learn the language.
"Better thou hast become, Nolan, but ye speake with overmuch haste for proper speech." Jevin pulled up along the two of us. Despite the mile we'd already covered, his deep voice contained no trace of a wheeze like mine or Lothar's.
"Thou art a mountain demon, Jevin. Thou canst correct me amidst a run, yet thine voice hast nary a hint of strayne." Sweat rolled off my forehead and stung my eyes. "Must we speake High Tal when I hath not the breath for a good, common curse?"
Both Jevin and Lothar laughed.
"What could be funny during a run?" Marana caught up with us and fell in beside Lothar. I saw Lothar's pleased grin and smiled myself. Lothar had confessed to me an interest in Marana and she'd hinted a certain affection for him in a conversation just days before.
"Nothing," I said. "Someone once told these two they were funny and they actually believed him." We had one more hill before everyone would start sprinting to Talianna. The Elites flying back to the Mews passed overhead. "Marana, you look like a jelkom on that Hawk."
"Stooping to drag off bad children like you?" She laughed and clapped her hands with delight. "Did I scare you?"
"No, I wasn't in that saddle. Besides, Lothar looked enough the hero to frighten you off." My comment broadened Lothar's grin, and Marana read it clearly.
"He'd have to catch me first." Marana put her head down and sprinted off to reach the base of the hill before the rest of us. Lothar headed after her, knowing full well that if she could keep running into Talianna the lead she'd build up on the hill would leave her unbeatable in the race. Jevin and I looked at each other, shook our heads, and moved a bit toward the front of the pack. My body protested but I shook my arms free of knots and ignored the rising, fiery pain in my thighs.
The two of them disappeared over the top of the hill—Marana a good twenty yards in front—while the rest of us were three-quarters of the way up the rise. Jevin and I topped the hill with four others, three boys and one girl, in front of us. They had run out in front most of the way, so they were ready to be passed. We obliged them and dropped into long-legged lopes that swallowed distance like a wolf bolting meat.
Marana still led Lothar, but both of them had fallen off the pace a bit. Clearly the hill had taken its toll. "Jevin, if we can keep a sprint up we can take them."
"I'll match you stride for stride, then pass you at the last." He smiled his predator's smile. That smile only came out when Jevin truly competed. In any contest where he could hurt someone he held back, but in this race he would give no quarter.
I bobbed my head in an imitation of Valiant. Jevin laughed and we ran. With each stride I reached out for more and more distance. My legs became iron springs hurling me forward faster and faster. My chest pumped like a bellows and my skin flushed scarlet. Distance evaporated and Jevin shadowed me.
Jevin and I flew past Lothar and overtook Marana easily. Their lead would have won the race had either of them started early and reached the hill well before the rest of us. As it was, the hill drained them. While their lead would hold the rest of the pack off, it did nothing to stop the Fealareen or me.
We rounded a long right-handed curve and raced in toward Talianna. I was on the inside and I knew the road ran straight past the Mews to the gate in the Siegewall to Taltown. The first of us through the gate would win, and I meant for that novice to be me. I also knew Jevin would pace me until the last ten yards, where he'd sprint past and win.
I smiled my own wolf's grin at Jevin. "Fare thee well, mountain demon." I put my head down and sprinted.
I saw everything along the road as a blur, but I could feel everyone's eyes watch us. My lungs worked hard, sucking air in through clenched teeth and blowing it out my nose. My arms pumped furiously. My fingers splayed out like claws. They tore at the air to shred it and pull me along through it. My legs stretched and I flowed forward. There were no jerky movements, no jarring impacts with the ground. There was only fluid and I ran like rain whipped before the wind.
All the while I heard Jevin behind me. Where I sounded like a man on the edge of collapse, his breath came easily and reminded me of the low growl of a hunting wolf. I used that image. I imagined him stalking me. I let remembered folktales consume me. I caught up the terror of being chased by a Fealareen or a jelkom and used it to fuel my legs. I welcomed the panic and gave it free rein. The fear ripped through me and boosted me forward. I made no effort to curb it, and even let it play over my face, because I knew Jevin would never hold himself back and would use any tool he had available to win.
I shot a last glance over my shoulder. Jevin hung there like a nightmare beast lurking in my shadow. A new wave of terror surged up through me and I increased my speed yet again.
Two Lancers at the gate saw us coming. They exchanged a couple of words then turned to clear the way. They knew Jevin and I would not stop for anyone or anything. Thankfully even Lancers could understand the importance of a race, even if it was just for the sake of the race itself.
I shot through the gateway first. I tried to stop but my momentum carried me across the courtyard. I literally ran up the wall for two steps before my speed was spent, then I bounced back down to the ground. I turned and slumped against the wall. A couple of seconds later Jevin joined me.
Neither of us could speak. Our chests heaved and sweat covered us like dew on a morning field. I stood first, having spied the distant dots that had to be Lothar and Marana, and tugged at Jevin's arm. He looked at me, puzzled, then understood. With energy from the gods alone know where, we struggled off to the
Justices' wing of the Citadel. Though the stairs were worse than the last hill, we climbed them and reached Lothar's and my room on the third floor.
I collapsed on my bed while Jevin appropriated Lothar's bunk. We lay there, very still, until we heard voices. Both of us smiled and sat up, as if we were not the least bit tired. I made notes in my journal while Jevin studied the chessboard on our table where Lothar and I were engaged in a game.
Lothar and Marana, hand in hand, slumped in the doorway.
"Who dragged whom across the line?" I asked innocently, and glanced at their intertwined fingers.
They looked at me with withering glances. Jevin and I simultaneously sank back on the beds and the four of us dissolved in laughing fits.
* * *
Hawk training comprised an afternoon each week. As Fourteens we also took on other duties. Along with the Fifteens and Sixteens we had to patrol the Citadel walls and accompany Services clerks on their various inspections of Taltown. While the duties were simple, they added to our training. We had learned to fight; now we had to learn how to deal with people without using violence.
The rooftop patrols were organized by wall, and members of every division except Services and Wizards had to stand guard. The leader for any patrol was selected ahead of time, and it was that Talion's responsibility to make sure his force was assembled and vigilant. I think if I had been a Warrior or Lancer leading a group I'd hope I didn't get any Justices in my patrol.
The night after the race Jevin and I had to stand watch from midnight until dawn. We'd gotten enough sleep to rest our bodies, but we were still giddy from the race. Others, including the Lancers at the gate, had come by at supper and commented they'd never seen men run so fast. That did nothing in the way of deflating our egos, and made us very resistant to discipline from anyone who was not yet a real Talion.
A Lancer Fifteen, Gaynor ra Borrowed Lands, led our patrol. He was as tall as me, and we were taller than all in the patrol except Jevin. I had reached a full six feet but had not filled out yet. Jevin both was taller, by at least another foot, and had bulked out to adult proportions. Gaynor was somewhere between us. His head was shaved except for the black mane running down the middle. Like most other Horseheads he was cocky, and the chip on his shoulder for Justices in general and Jevin in particular did not bode well for our watch.
He ordered us into formation and accepted the post from a tired Warrior Fifteen. The Baton of Command in his hand, Gaynor proceeded to brief his troops. "Talions, we have a sacred duty to perform tonight. We are to protect Talianna from any invasion, any violation, no matter how trivial. If needed we are to sell our lives dearly, crying out only to warn others of the danger."
I rolled my eyes skyward and felt sick. I turned to Jevin and whispered, "It would sound better from horseback. He really needs to be a lord for this speech." Jevin and I both chuckled.
Gaynor's gray eyes blazed fury. "Do you Justices find something funny in my speech?" His voice carried the force of a reprimand but he was only a Lancer.
Jevin snorted. "Nothing beside the absurdity of it in light of the fact that there are no troops within sixty leagues of Talianna." Jevin's answer, delivered with a serious, respectful look on his face, wrenched a chuckle out of me and started two Warriors quivering with restrained laughter.
Gaynor walked back toward us, but stayed away from Jevin. "Fine, Talion. Then perhaps you'll find watching the far end of the wall not too much of a chore. And your fleet friend may accompany you."
I bowed with ceremony. "As my lord commands."
Jevin and I broke formation, each picked up a spear from the wall rack, and walked to the far end of the roof without waiting to be dismissed. The post was the least desirable because it put us across from the stables and right above the manure pile left from mucking out the stables earlier in the evening. Luckily a breeze blew most of the scent out and away into the night.
The night was warm and the bright stars filled the sky. I easily picked out the Great Bear and the Dancing Turtle. I could only see the masts of the Ghost Ship because Tal was further north than Sinjaria. Sighting a familiar series of constellations always made the night seem more comfortable.
"Jevin, why is Gaynor afraid of you?"
Both of us sat on the roof and leaned our backs against the inner citadel wall. Jevin turned his face to me, but I could only see his fangs and eyes in the darkness. "I suppose it is the same reason you were afraid of me this afternoon. Does that answer your question?" Pain threaded through his reply.
I touched his shoulder. "Jevin, what do you mean? I don't understand." Already I'd forgotten the fear coursing through me because it had been just a tool to help me win a race. It wasn't real then and it ceased to exist the second the race was over.
"Nor do I, Nolan." Jevin turned from me and I watched his silhouetted profile against the starlit sky. "When you looked back at me I saw the raw terror I've seen during a couple of Festivals. People fear me because I am Fealareen, without knowing me or who I am."
I could feel his betrayal, and I felt like I'd been hit in the stomach with a brick. "Jevin, I'm sorry. I don't fear you. I know you hold yourself back when you might hurt another person, and I knew you would not be holding back in that race. Imagining you as a monster or wolf hot on my heels—which you were at the time—was just a way to convince my legs to work faster. I never imagined you would notice, much less be hurt by it."
He started to reply, but I held up a hand and cut him off. "Ever since I swallowed my fear the first day I saw you, I resolved to be your friend. In battle you will be horrifying. You're big and strong, capable of destroying foes. But you can only let yourself loose on enemies, you'd not hurt friends. Like it or not, until I go outlaw, I will not fear you."
I felt the tension drain from him. "Nolan, thank you. I cannot judge people. You've all been raised on tales of jelkom and Fealareen. We're not seen outside the Haunts. I'm as much a freak as that two-headed colt born last spring. It was lucky because it died. It did not have to go through a life of people being afraid of it."
I nodded and scanned the stars. "I know a bit of what you're talking about." I swallowed my way past the lump in my throat and brushed a tear from my left eye. "My little brother Arik had a clubbed foot. People thought him demon-cursed or god-blessed. People wanted to burn him or have him touch them to heal their illnesses. No matter what they believed, though, people were afraid of him."
We were both quiet for a second, each of us lost in thought of places many leagues to the east; then I spoke. "Still that doesn't explain the depth of Gaynor's fear."
Jevin laughed lightly and all his teeth showed in the night. "No, Gaynor is a special case. Remember, Gaynor is from the Borrowed Lands. To you the Fealareen are just monsters in stories but to him we are reality and death for his family."
I frowned. "Gaynor was brought here at the same time you were. Neither one of you knows anything about your homelands."
Jevin smiled uneasily. "Gaynor has put our library to good use. He knows his homeland used to belong to the Fealareen. We used to graze our flocks there in the winter. A thousand years or so ago, human settlers began to flood into the area. They were mostly refugees from Tingis, the Tortured Province, but they took our best lands. At first we did not mind, we lived together with relative peace.
"Then a leader showed up and he offered to fight the Fealareen king for domination of the lands. An agreement was struck: every twenty-five years both leaders would meet in a series of Ritual battles and the winner would have dominion over the Borrowed Lands for the next quarter century. The Fealareen have a tendency to raid the area when they are in power—making them no different than the counts and barons elsewhere—and the citizens of the Borrowed Lands are in dread of their leader losing."
Jevin shook his head. "Gaynor has decided he was sent from the Borrowed Lands to watch over me and prevent me from threatening the Shattered Empire!"
I looked away and swallowed hard. He was not the firs
t Lancer to assume the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but he was starting younger than most. "When is the next Ritual?"
"Eleven years."
I did some quick math in my head. "That means you left the Haunts during the last Ritual."
"A month later. I was born the night my father died in the Ritual. He was beaten for the second time. His defeat at the hands of Queen Briana would have led to his execution by the Fealareen had he survived the Ritual. Because of his loss I was cast out." Part of Jevin cried out for an explanation of his exile. I read it in his posture and heard it in his voice.
I smiled and tried to steer the conversation back away from Jevin's quest for an answer he'd never have. "I think you have that wrong, my friend." Jevin turned and stared at me. "You weren't exiled, you were sent out to keep an eye on Gaynor."
That forced a smile back on Jevin's face. He looked up and over me back toward where Gaynor marched from post to post requesting reports and encouraging his men. "Gaynor would just love that idea."
I nodded. "So, we've decided why Gaynor especially hates you, but why does he hate me or any of the rest of the Justices? Did you and Lothar do something to him years ago?"
"No, not that I know of or can remember." Jevin tipped his face skyward and calm seeped back into his body. "His hatred probably springs from our being Justices and the Justices' position in the factional struggles in Talianna."
I considered his remark for a moment. In the two years I'd been in Talianna I knew there were tensions between the different branches. All the military branches were jealous of each other, and no one liked the Services. Elites and Justices really comprised a small percentage of the total Talion population, but our political power was considerable, so we were viewed as either arrogant or far too influential for our actual worth. Wizards, with their subdisciplines and ethereal differences, were too preoccupied with magick to pay attention to the fights, but they were far too powerful to ignore or anger.