Chapter 18

Year 163 – Summer – Quartus Mensis – 41st day

Avem, town of House Valmai, land of the Vale

On the second day of her training, Vatra ran with the soldiers. Her heart was hitting in her chest like an execution drum, but every time she was about to stop, every time she ended up throwing up, she kept running because of her fear of the waterboarding and the sheer willpower of her mind. Once it was over, the soldiers walked from the lumber mill to the training ground, keeping their focus on their breath in order to not collapse. She was breathing heavily, and the pain hit her like a scourge of distress.

I did it . . . I’m. . . one of them . . . now.

The following training was a spear formation fight. The soldiers were separated into two lines and were armed with quarterstaffs padded with rags to emulate the tips of their spear. They had no shield this time and had to hit their opponent in the chest or the head to eliminate them.

The other soldiers in her line were stopping her from dodging, forcing her to gauge the range and keep her distance. After a moment, she noticed an opening. The soldier in front of her was keeping his spear too low out of fatigue. Vatra bent her knees and sprinted three steps to reach her opponent’s spear. Taken by surprise, he tried to raise it upward, but she jumped on the spear and smashed it to the ground. Vatra struck her target in the chest, eliminating him, but as soon as her hit landed, two spears attacked her.

Vatra dodged the first blow, only to receive the second blow right on her forehead. She heard a shrill sound and was disoriented. Her sight got blurry as she crumbled to the ground. She heard an obscure, rough voice whispering in her mind in a tongue she couldn’t comprehend when the words suddenly became clear in her mind.

The strange voice – “You cannot escape.”

She woke up in a sweat and felt dizzy. She was on a bed near three more soldiers lying down.

What was that! A dream? My head . . . Where . . . Right! The training. Wait, how long have I slept?

Further away, a man was sitting on a chair next to the fire pit while smoking tobacco with his pipe.

Is that the priest? What was his name? Jorod? Jored? Jorad, maybe?

Vatra – “Umm . . . Priest Jorad?”

The priest – “Don’t get up now.”

Vatra – “But the Kalator could arrive at any time! How long have I been asleep?”

The priest – “The Kalator can wait. You slept about two hours.”

Vatra – “I should get up.”

The priest – “No, you should sleep while you can. Those scars of yours are no jokes. To think you’ve been training with them, I pity you.”

Vatra – “They are fine. I need to eat for them to heal.”

The priest – “You will have your meal. I’ll take care of it, so rest a bit more.”

Vatra – “Fine . . . Thank you.”

The priest – “Rest well. Oh, and while I’m at it, it’s Jared.”

Jorad . . . I’m so dumb.

Vatra – “I’ll try to remember it!”