She sniffs. “Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes, grandchild.”
Suddenly, the world begins to spin. I watch the city crumble as it’s attacked by Lacon. I watch warriors dressed like Tadhana battle with everything they have, though they’re no match for the invaders. Not without the power of the relics.
Then I see Tadhana herself, charging at the enemy, mouth open, screaming, though there’s no sound. Tadhana manages to fell two of the Laconian soldiers. But while she’s occupied with them, one more appears from behind. I try to cry out to warn her, but no sound leaves my mouth. I’m restricted to horrified bystander, helpless to do anything as the invading soldier stabs Tadhana in the back.
I hate this part, she says.
My vision spins again. I’m dragged backward from the site where Tadhana was attacked, through the besieged city, flashes of fire and destruction and slaughter all around me.
I stop suddenly at the city center. The elders of Ophir are gathered up and marched into the middle of town, their faces drawn and feet dragging. Once there, they’re killed by Laconians, throats slashed by short blades, one after the other. The people cry out in the streets. I try to close my eyes or look away, but nothing makes the horrific vision disappear. It’s inside my mind, inescapable.
A bell tolls ominously in the square.Bong. Bong. Bong.
You come from the blood of warriors.
Then Tadhana shows me my life with Aris, the night work I so reviled. There I am, slashing at Blackcoats, sneaking into banks, stealing, all the night work I’ve done, all the men and women I’ve killed. I wasn’t just a thief, I was also a mercenary, someone who killed for money. They were criminals, fellow thieves, not one of them innocent but still I’m ashamed, even though there was no other way to survive. I look at my life, the dark nights and the punishing days, my time at Madame Verona’s, and then I see the girl I was when I lived with Rollo. Her soft hair, her silky dress. I wanted to be soft, easy. But that’s not who I am. That’s not who I ever was.
I am a warrior, a fighter, a killer. My mind is clear and certain. No one needs to tell me this; the knowledge is simply there, as if I’ve always known and have only been suppressing the truth all this time.
The images halt. The world stops spinning. Everything goes still, though I remain in the darkness. This is who I am. I’ve always known it. But until now, I haven’t accepted it.
“Did I pass?”
Tadhana appears before me with a grin.What do you think?
A being of striking beauty appears to stand next to her.This is Yarima, the goddess of war, our patron, Tadhana says, reaching for my hand and, with the other, holding Yarima’s. At that very moment, when she touches the goddess, a surge of energy strikes me like a lightning bolt.
My skin begins to turn black, like it’s on fire, yet there are no flames. It comes from within rather than outside of me. The hair on my arms burns. Still, I hold steady and do not pull away. My flesh withers away, peeling from my fingers, turning to charcoal. I brace myself and stand my ground. This is all part of the trial. It’s a test. I can withstand it. Resist the urge to break away, to run. My ancestors endured the trial. Tadhana withstood the trial and passed. If she did it, I can, too. I descend from warriors. That makes me a warrior as well. And warriors do not quit.
The pain is immeasurable, from my feet to my head, a shrieking agony, begging for relief. But I refuse to flinch, to show any weakness. The anguish stretches on and on, until I’m certain it’s endless, that it must go on forever that way, and still, I stand strong. It will kill me, or I will kill it. Those are the only ways this ends.
Once my entire body is burnt, my vision starts to fade. The image of Tadhana and the Goddess Yarima grows darker and darker, until they’re mere outlines, until eventually I see nothing, only hints of shadow in darkness, and finally, everything is black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEEBAN
Gin crumples to the floor. I run over to her, the way she had for me only minutes before.
I put my hand to her stomach. It rises and falls. She’s breathing. I don’t know if I should try to wake her up or let her wake up on her own. I look over to Luwalhati for guidance, but she maintains that frustrating neutral expression.
Gin gasps and her eyes open wide. She holds up her hand and examines it, then breathes a sigh of relief and closes her eyes again.
“Are you all right?” I whisper.
She nods, eyes still closed, then inhales deeply and opens them again.
I offer my hand so she can get to her feet. She pushes herself up on her knees with her hands, then grabs my hand to stand. When she touches me, I get a shock.
Once she’s standing on her own, I back away.
When she opens her eyes, they crackle with white sparks like lightning, which suddenly fade when she blinks. She holds up her hand, marveling at it, her skin sizzling with that same lightning, though like her eyes, the glow quickly fades, revealing skin that glows blue briefly before returning to its natural color. She achieved what I could not.
She’s bonded to her spirit and connected to the power of the gods. I look at Gin. Though the strange spark in her eyes has gone, she still isn’t the same person she was prior to her bonding. There’s something intimidating about her that wasn’t there before. Her power seems to emanate from her body, invisible but potent.
Gin turns to Luwalhati. “What happens now?”
Luwalhati smiles softly. “The spirit will act as your guide, teaching and explaining how to access it.”
Then Luwalhati approaches me. “Be patient, Eban,” she advises me quietly. My frustration must be evident all over my face. “Your time will come. The spirit has awakened in you and you will be given another opportunity.” Her words, while kind, do little to assuage my disappointment. I nod. Next time, I won’t allow the same to happen. I’ll either succeed, or I will die.
