I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
“It’sbeautiful!” Yes, the frigid air is searing my nose even through the breather, and it smells a little like rotten eggs today, but the planet is truly stunning.
An inky sky is scattered with more stars than I’ve seen in my life, including a brighter one that I know is Alioth herself. Glowing orange lava laces the dark, jagged horizon, the peaks occasionally spitting sparks up into the sky like a continuous fireworks show. And in the dim starlight, a seemingly endless field of colorful stones stretches out in front of me, sparkling with ice crystals.
“Who could call this a shitty planet?” I wonder out loud.
Aqen laughs around his breather. “Only someone who had never seen it.”
We stand there in awed silence, soaking up the stark beauty until the cold seeps through my tunics and raises goosebumps. But before we go back inside, I have an idea.
I turn to Aqen. “Hey, will you help me collect some rocks?”
Chapter 23
Nik
These apprentices are driving me to madness. I’m trying to show them how to block a double-bladed attack with a single blade, and all they want to talk about is my Alara. The pride I felt when I shed my sveli to enter the pits and they all noticed her marks on me have faded to intense irritation with their continued questions.
“Has she taken your crown yet, Jara?”
“Will the other Alaras visit her here?”
“Will she stay in your quarters, or will she have her own?”
“Do terrakins have tails under their trousers?”
“Enough,” I snarl. “What’s under her trousers is none of your concern.Sheis none of your concern. You are here to learn how to be warriors, not to gossip like old males betting at the pits. Tell me, what is the second stance?”
“Crouching shield,” murmurs a female apprentice, a recent recruit named Y’len who has nearly perfect aim with her throwing knives. Every time I see her, she is accompanied by thethunk thunksound of her practice blades hitting their target. If all apprentices had her diligence, I would not waste half my time repeating lessons.
I nod to her. “Alioth be praised, someone is listening. Show us.”
The more experienced warriors and I guide them through the basic defenses, and then I pair them up to spar before retiring to the rail to watch. Cidro joins me, his long green sleeves pushed up, exhaustion making his camouflage fade in and out. He has barely rested since the mine explosion.
We watch the fight in front of us in friendly silence. Gannatel, broad but strong, still has a bandaged arm, and it’s obvious his double-bladed attack is weak. Y’len, his partner, is quick, but she’s used to working with two hands and keeps leaving her left side undefended. Rather than admitting their weaknesses and asking for help, they’re both struggling. They have so much promise that they won’t ever fulfill if they pretend their weaknesses don’t exist.
It reminds me of what Delphie said about some of the injured miners being anxious about falling behind. “Is Gannatel cleared to fight?”
“Can’t stop these young warriors if they put their mind to it. They do what they want and expect their bodies to keep up.” Cidro sighs. “You would know something about it, Jara. How are your channels feeling?”
I grunt, not wanting to admit the truth. They’re so clogged from my hours with Delphie, they’re burning. I should have taken more time to let the shower pound it out or asked her for a massage, but I didn’t want to trouble her.
“I can work on you while you watch,” Cidro offers shrewdly, turning toward me and flexing his hands. “It’s not too late to make a difference to your pigment system, Jara. It can heal if you take care of it. Let your camouflage down for an extended period so whatever remains of your channels can—”
I interrupt because I’ve heard this lecture before. “You’re tired. Go rest. You’ve done enough.” After he bows and reluctantly leaves, I call Gannatel to the rail. He jogs up, expecting a lesson, but instead I demand his blades. Heunbuckles his sheaths reluctantly and places them in my hands. “You don’t fight two-handed until the healer says you’re ready.”
“But—”
“Sword only. And if you don’t like it, go see Gemeri. You can organize some scrolls for him instead of sparring.”
“Sword only,” he agrees, though tendrils of black and purple curl around his neck before he banishes his pigment, giving away his anger and fear at being restricted.
“That goes for you, too. Sword only until he’s healed,” I add to Y’len, holding out my hand. She jerks a nod, frowning at the floor as she removes her thigh sheaths and turns them over. I can tell she hates having her fate tied to his. “The only reason you lasted as long as you did against Gannatel is because of his injuries. You kept forgetting about your left side. Any other warrior would have cut you down because you were fighting as though you had two blades. The two-hand mindset is all attack. Speed and fearlessness win every time. But with a single blade, patience can be what wins a match. Caution. Act as a shield first, blade second. Understand?”
“No, but I will think on it and practice,” she answers honestly. “Can I ask something of you, Jara?”
“Of course.”
