Lines of burnt red peek through the rectangular windows of the room I stay in as I lay awake in bed, still on top of the sheets, having not bothered to cover myself; not that it matters since I had a fitful sleep. More red appears on the wall, transforming from slits to squares, to blocks. I get up and cringe when I notice how wrinkled my uniform is and scold myself for not taking it off before going to bed. At least I have another one. I pull it out of my duffel and put it on after straightening the wrinkled one, hoping that hanging it up will help it look less creased.
The soft swoop of the door across the hall as it closes alerts me that Commander Vye has already risen, dressed, and waits for me to report. Tucking my shirt in, I hurry out the door while still braiding my hair, so that it stays out of my face and is contained. She remains silent, but still manages to give me that scrutinizing look of hers, which always makes me feel as though I am being judged, before walking down the hall, up the steps, and out the door, while I follow without a word. Commandant Paq waits for us, pacing back and forth in an impatient manner, and I wonder how long he has been doing that, or if he even bothered to go to bed last night.
"You're both ready. Good. Good."
Neither Commander Vye, nor I respond, but Commandant Paq doesn't seem to care as he nods at a nearby arbiter who hurries off and returns with two more, dragging a man in chains: the same barbarian I had seen yesterday. The animal—he might as well be one with all the grunting noises that escape his mouth—yanks at the restraints, almost pulling the arbiters restraining him down with him, but they regain their balance and haul the barbarian toward us, throwing him to the ground. Hatred fill his eyes as he glowers at us.
"Let him go," Commandant Paq commands.
The arbiters nod and drag the barbarian to the open gate where they undo his restraints and jump back. The couth springs for them before darting away, as bullets riddle the ground next to his feet. A few seconds later, after he has assessed the situation, he runs off, disappearing into the brush.
"Choose your weapon," says Commandant Paq as another arbiter steps forth carrying an open case full of knives and holds it before me.
The entire situation unnerves me. My eyes dart to Commander Vye, who inclines her head, giving her approval. Knowing I have no choice, as Commandant Paq's presence bears down upon me, I pick a knife, weighing it in my hands and put it back, choosing another, handling one blade after another, until I settle upon one that feels natural within my palm. I say nothing as I take my chosen weapon and tie its sheath around my waist, next to my pistol, ignoring Commandant Paq's impatient sigh.
"You will not need that," he says to me, pointing at my pistol.
I glower at him. I go nowhere without it and do not wish to leave it behind while, I am about to embark into unknown territory with a man whose temperament is less than ideal, or as Faya would put it: neurotic. He thrusts his beefy hand toward me and I unhook my pistol from its holster, placing it in his outstretched palm, cringing as he drops it in a box held by another arbiter.
"Everyone ready?" asks Commandant Paq.
People nod and mumble, "Yes, sir."
"On the count of three. One... Two..."
"What is the prize?" I ask, interrupting the commandant, and Commander Vye's startled expression informs me that she did not expect my inquiry.
"Pardon?" Commandant Paq replies.
"This is sport, is it not?" I say. "So, there must be a prize if one wins."
Commandant Paq's eyes darken.
An inward smirk gloats at how my question caught the commandant off-guard, but I keep my outward appearance impassive and unemotional. "There is a prize, isn't there?"
Commandant Paq's refusal to answer my question does not go unnoticed. "Go!" he yells and the arbiters allowed to join in the hunt rush out of the compound and into the brush, crashing as they go, making enough noise to frighten every critter in the wilderness. Did they not pass basic training? Or is all this noise their feeble attempt to strike fear into their prey? I watch as Commandant Paq leads the charge with Commander Vye joining in, though she seems to be going through the motions more than enjoying the activity itself, and after a minute passes, I am left alone, standing in the compound, while dust snakes slither through the wisps blown by the wind, winding their way to my toes.
Crunching footsteps attract my attention and I twist in their direction, spotting the plebeian Commander Vye and I had come with as he stops, holding an armful of garden tools—no doubt it is his job to clean them—and watches me. I cannot read his face as he masks his thoughts, but one thing is certain: the anger that had always been present is absent. I tear myself away. He is not important.
Touching the covered blade of my knife and reassuring myself that it is there, I pick up my feet and jog through the gate, after the others. I reach the edge of the grass field and stop, looking around as the others charge forward and to the overgrown brush beyond. They will never catch the barbarian mottled in a group like that and thrashing around, mirroring a herd of buffalo as it flees a predator.
I change direction and head east, while they go south.
I hurry through the waist high grass, running for the overgrowth beyond, ignoring the stings of the blades as they strike my face in retaliation for disturbing their peaceful existence. There is no point in worrying about alerting the barbarian to my presence. He already knows that we hunt him, as Commandant Paq's arbiters had made certain of, but once I enter the trees, I should be able to disguise my presence. He will not head south for long, not with all the others rushing in that direction, leaving only three other possibilities, east being one of them.
I near the edge of the field and quicken my pace, bursting from the tall grass and into the dense vegetation, shadowed under the dwelling of the trees. I stop. Controlling my breathing, I creep through the jungle, past the trunk of a tree thicker around than the columns of the training facility, and those are a minimum of three yards in diameter, while its branches hang low from the thick foliage, weighed down by leaves the length of a cart. Being careful not to make any noise, I reach up and guide one of the jade leaves, which would serve better as a curtain, out of my path, ignoring the line of driver ants that crawls across the branch and up the tree, forming their own spiraling staircase. A trickle of wind sneaks inside this dark dwelling, brushing my flushed and moist cheeks, warning me of a change in the weather. Glancing up through the dense foliage above me, I manage to spot bulbous slate-colored clouds building in the sky. The wind changes, bringing with it an increase in humidity, which means that a storm brews on the horizon, leaving me no more than 30 minutes to find shelter. It will also make tracking the barbarian difficult. Good for him, not for me.
I hike the perimeter of the jungle, keeping the area where Commandant Paq and his party had gone in sight, hoping to reach it before the rain starts and ruins any chance of tracking the barbarian. Climbing over logs and raised tree roots, I navigate my way through the wilderness, using my view of the compound as my marker, not wanting to become lost in this place. I have never been outside of Arel before, but remember the warnings about the outside world well. The fear of becoming lost and dying, something that the instructors at the training facility instilled in each of us, settles in the forefront of my mind, warning me to be vigilant. A flash of lightning rips my focus away from my hike. Jerking my head upward, I realize that the storm is almost upon me. Another flash of lightning lights up the darkening sky as the wind picks up, and I turn to seek safety underneath a tangled mesh of leaves, which might prevent the threatening rain from soaking me, when I pause. Rose moss carpets the moist ground before me, but a portion of it is broken off, jagged and smushed as though someone had stepped on it while in a hurry.
Kneeling, I lift the bit of damaged moss, inspecting it, trying to determine whether this had been done by an animal or a human. As I move some of the moss aside, I notice a footprint: human and made by a shoe with little tread on it. He did change direction once reaching the trees. Scraping more of the moss, sticks, and leaves away, I uncover more footprints. I glance in the direction they point to—deeper in the jungle. Intrigued, and not wishing to fail, I jump to my feet and follow the footprints, taking care not to make too much noise so as not to alert my prey to my presence. Silence is a skill taught to all recruits at the training facility, and I utilize mine to its fullest extent, avoiding sticks and rotted logs, doing my best to step on solid ground.
A bent orchid catches my eye, its white petals contrasting well against the dark green backdrop. I stop next to it and check it, noting that its petals are not wilted or dull in color, but still elastic and vibrant. A drop of rain dots my jacket. Undaunted, I continue, following his tracks and find more in the ground, unhidden, exposed for all to see. I jump onto my good fortune and follow them, charging through the trees, allowing the tracks to take me where they will. Some are close together from when he walked, while others are a little more spaced apart from when he ran. Underneath the lightning sky and the thunder that rumbles overhead, I chase after these tracks, expecting to find the barbarian any second when...
I stop.
A cliff drops away in front of me, having almost tricked me into charging over it and to my death. Panting, I stare down its precipice, considering myself lucky to have stopped in time and wondering where he could have gone, or if he had fallen to his death.
I'm such a fool!
Those tracks were too exposed and easy to spot. The barbarian had tricked me. He wanted us to think that he had gone over the edge and fallen to his demise, but, assuming he knows this area well, he would know better. More drops of rain pelt my shoulder as another roll of thunder warns me to seek safety. I ignore it. Angered over having been deceived, I want to find this barbarian and teach him that Arelians are not to be trifled with. I go back to one of the tracks that has led me here, dropping to my knees, skidding in the dirt as I do so, and reexamine the footprint. I notice that there seems to be two: one placed over the other. He had backtracked by walking backwards and restepping in his original tracks. To the unsuspecting person, it appears as though he had continued onward when, in fact, he did not.
I change direction and retrace the tracks, following back to where I had first discovered them, hoping to learn where my prey had gone. A burst of thunder strikes above me, releasing a downpour that soaks my clothes within minutes. The hounding rain fuels my rage and I charge ahead, forgetting to conceal my own presence within the wilderness, not caring if he knows that I am in pursuit as he appears to already be aware of it. My left foot stomps upon a cluster of moss and slides on the muddy ground, threatening to impede my efforts, but I regain my balance and continue. Dark lines of rain fill the void in front of me, making it impossible to see where I am going.
My foot smashes through a rotted log and I fall face first into the brown mud. Coughing and lifting myself onto my elbows, I wipe the muck from my eyes and blink several times in an effort to clear my vision, and stop. The mud looks to have been disturbed, as though someone has slid and fallen, much like myself. I crawl through the slick ooze and scrutinize my finding, spotting the broken branch of a nearby bush with a mud stain smeared on it. This new set of tracks is different. The uneven spacing and more indented nature of one footprint over the other means that the barbarian has injured himself and is limping.
I haul myself to my feet, allowing the rain to wash some of the mud from my uniform, and continue my pursuit. My boots squish in the mud as the slime oozes between their tread, while I trek through the jungle, taking great pains to remain silent, hoping to sneak up on my prey. My scalp stings from the rain that pounds it as it pours from the sky, punishing me for being outside when it appeared. My wet hands reach for the hilt of the knife Commandant Paq had me choose, but they keep slipping every time I try to grip it. Unable to dry them, I shake some of the water from them, knowing it won't do any good in all this rain, and grasp the knife again, freeing it from its sheath, and readying it for the unexpected.
I hear movement. Unable to determine if it is the barbarian or the wildlife that dwells in the trees, I keep my focus straight ahead, hoping that he will not suspect I know he is here. I creep across the muddy ground, doing my best to maintain my balance, lift a bit of foliage out of my view, being careful to not expose myself, and peek around the broad leaf. A dark shape hobbles 20 yards in front of me. Brushing past the frond, I dart behind the trunk of another tree, glad that the drumming of the pouring rain masks my movements. I peer around the tree's wide base and pull back just as the barbarian turns and glances in my direction. I hope he has not spotted me.
Taking two deep breaths, I ease around the tree and watch as the dark shape continues to stagger away from me, melding into the obscure shapes beyond us. I scurry from the tree and drop to my knees behind a thorn bush, cursing when one of its thorns pricks my exposed skin. Rain streams down my forehead, coating my eyes and causing me to blink with constant fervor in an effort to see. Certain that he is unaware of my presence, I dart out from behind the thorn bush and creep up behind him, walking on my tippy toes so as not to splash in the puddles, holding my knife behind me with the blade pointed downward.
His left leg drags behind him as he limps forward, and I notice the blood-soaked rag he has tied around his thing in an effort to bandage a fresh wound. He pauses. The veins in my neck pulse from the adrenaline coursing through my body as I stop, mirroring him, willing him to not turn around. He stands still, his head up and alert, listening for anything out of the ordinary, making me thankful for the second time in mere minutes that the rain masks my presence. The hilt of the knife cuts into my palm as drops of water fall from the tip of the blade and to the ground, blending with the running streams that have formed in the mud, while I release the breath trapped in my lungs.
A whistle breaks the terse atmosphere.
I sprint the remaining feet between us just as the barbarian whips around and notices me for the first time. Despite the slick mud, I close the distance and spring for him, raising my knife. He ducks out of the way, but his injured leg impedes his agility, allowing me to catch him around the waist, dragging us both to the ground. We roll in the mud, its slime coating our bodies and making my grip on my knife falter. He knocks it from my hand. A sudden pain grips my face as he punches me with his free fist before ramming his elbow into my shoulder. Bracing my left foot on the slick ground, I push into it with all my strength and flip us over, penning him below me, a moment short-lived as he flings me to the side and we roll through the muck once more, stopping with me trapped between him and the earth and his right elbow pressing into my throat.
Choking, and unable to breathe, I flail my hand, scooping up a fistful of mud, and rub it into the barbarian's eyes. He jerks back, clawing at his face. Seizing my opportunity, I throw him off me, bringing both my feet up and ramming them into his stomach. He writhes on the ground, rubbing his fingers into his eyes to clear them of mud. I jump to my feet, searching for my knife. A small speck of metal glints in the torrent environment. I start for it, but notice that the barbarian has regained his senses. Changing direction, I tackle him, forcing him to the ground, but he throws me off. Staring at the sky, I see a blur of movement as his fist heads for me. I block it, seize his wrist, and wrench his arm, twisting in such a manner that I flip him over me and onto his back.
I scramble for my knife. Strong hands seize my left ankle, preventing me from reaching it and forcing me onto my stomach as mud splashes around me. Before he can pen me a third time, I ram my foot into his injured leg and he recoils, crying out in agony. I dart for the knife, scrambling through the mud, a predator desperate to kill its prey. I hear the barbarian's wrathful cries as he limps for me. My hand grasps the knife. The barbarian leaps for me, but I roll out of the way, spring to my knees, and stab him in his uninjured leg. He drops to the ground, clutching his wound.
Seizing my chance, I spring to my feet and kick him in the chest, knocking him to the ground, before straddling him, stretching my leg out to pen one of his arms and placing my left forearm across his neck, while raising my knife for the kill strike. His unintelligible grunts fuel his fury at having lost and he spits in my face, but I remain firm in my hold of him.
"Go ahead, you Arelian filth," he hisses.
I raise my knife higher.
"You attack my village and hunt me like a dog."
I stop.
Attack his village? It is the barbarians that keep attacking us.
A grins breaks across his face, exposing the missing teeth in his mouth as he realizes that I have no clue what he is talking about.
"Kill me!"
My knife hangs in midair.
"KILL ME!"
I lower my knife.
Looking into his vengeful eyes, I see a man who wants to die, while at the same time, wishes to destroy me, and I am reminded of the ones I killed in the name of Arelian justice; they still haunt me at night when I am alone, when I try to sleep. In that moment, I realize that he is correct about one thing: I have hunted him down the way any predator stalks their prey, participating in a sport that had disgusted me when Commandant Paq first mentioned it the night before. Am I no better than him?
Rising to my full height, I release the barbarian, refusing to commit murder for entertainment. I cannot give him what he wants. "Go," I say.
Keeping his eyes planted on me, the barbarian struggles to get on his knees, before forcing himself to his feet, standing at an odd angle to avoid injuring his legs any further. Realizing that he will not get far with his injuries, I search the ground for a stick that can be used as a staff and find one, picking it up and handing it to him.
"Go!" I wave the stick at him.
Still uncertain of my motives, he takes the stick and backs away. Before he can turn around and take his first step, a knife shoots out of the trees and strikes him in the heart. Stunned, I reach for him, and his hand stretches for mine as he falls to the ground, plummeting down a hill to be buried in the quick mud below, with only the robotic drumbeat of the rain mourning his demise.
Harsh footsteps stomp on the rotting vegetation on the ground as they charge from behind the brush and toward me as I stand poised in the rain, with water dripping from my nose and the ends of my ponytail, staring at the bottom of the hillside and the lifeless body below, still grappling with the harsh reality that a man who had once been alive is now dead. The footsteps cease once they reach me.
"Well?" Commandant Paq's harsh voice rips through the rain's drumbeat and drowns the voices of his hunting party. "Where is he?"
"Down there," I reply, my voice hollow, aware of all the eyes that watch me.
"Is he dead?"
I face Commandant Paq, my dislike for him intensifying beyond the point of loathing until it reaches a point where it boils over and transforms into utter hatred. "If you are so uncertain of your aim, then perhaps you should climb down there and find out for yourself. Or are you too lazy to do even that?"
"Why, you insolent"—he raises his fist to strike me, but just like before, his hand stops in midair held by the firm grip of Commander Vye.
"I believe I have warned you before about punishing my arbiter." Commander Vye's merciless tone causes a slight quiver in Commandant Paq's wrathful expression, but his anger at having been humiliated twice in one day by her outweighs any fear.
"I saved her life and this is how you thank me?" he hisses at her.
"Is this true?" Commander Vye asks me.
"No, ma'am," I reply.
"You lying..."
"Explain yourself," Commander Vye commands me, cutting off the commandant.
"He was no threat to Arel," I reply. Upon her questioning look, I continue. "We are charged with protecting Arel from threats both within and without. This barbarian had been captured by Commandant Paq, not because he meant Arel any harm, but because he was to be used for sport."
"And how did you come to this conclusion?" asks Commander Vye.
"Why else would the Commandant release someone he had captured hours before? Why else are we all out here?"
"And your insolence toward him?"
"No excuse, ma'am."
"There you have it," Commander Vye says to Commandant Paq while still holding his wrist in the air. "She is upholding the laws of Arel, and since you have failed to prove that the barbarian is an immediate threat to our city, she had no reason to kill him."
"And her insolence toward a commanding officer?" Commandant Paq demands.
"Will be dealt with, by me." Commander Vye releases his wrist and he jerks away, huffing in a manner to make his anger known.
Commandant Paq takes a step back, waiting for Commander Vye to turn her attention to me, before charging her with his fists raised. She ducks out of the way in an instant and counters his movements with a punch to his left shoulder. Furious, he leaps for her, but she sidesteps out of the way, forcing him to plow into the mud. Commander Vye stands over him, as though to ask if he plans to continue this nonsense, and in answer to her unspoken question, he grabs a fistful of mud and flings it at her. She turns and dives to the ground, having expected this maneuver, and lands in a push-up position before springing back to her feet and kicking him in the jaw, while the rest of us watch, and my amazement at her abilities causes me to forget, for a moment, about the reason we are here in the first place. Stunned, Commandant Paq lies in the mud, shaking his head and rubbing his jawline, debating whether he wishes to continue, but before he can decide, Commander Vye pounces on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing him in a headlock.
"Are you finished?" she asks him.
In answer to her question, he raises both hands in surrender.
She releases him and stalks away. I do not wait for her to tell me to follow and chase after her, knowing where I belong and what awaits me once we reach the compound.