Soulbound (27 page)

Unable to speak, I nodded, wanting nothing more than to run, to flee this place and get back to Shadow Academy. Even Kingsland would have been a welcome distraction from the strange dread of Wood’s Cross.

“Remember this feeling. Because it is everything that oozes from the pores of King Darrek. And if we allow it to permeate the rest of Tril, what happened to Kingsland will be a picnic in comparison to the hell awaiting us. Remember it, and use it in your fight.” He held my gaze for a moment and then led me back up the ridge. With every step, I felt lighter, my throat less constricted. By the time we’d returned to Kingsland, I could breathe again, but the sick horridness of Wood’s Cross was still with me. I couldn’t explain why it was so awful. I just
knew that I never, ever wanted to return to that place.

I barely noticed the village as we crossed back through it. But as we climbed the ridge on the other side, where we had slept the night before, my heart seized. Standing just over the ridge was a group of six Graplars, sniffing our campsite with interest.

They hadn’t noticed us, but rather than double back, Darius led me around them, pointing back at my feet in a reminder to use stealth. I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet and stepped as lightly as I could, carefully navigating my way over fallen branches and twigs. It felt as if every heartbeat rang out into the forest, sounding like a gong.

As we were rounding a large oak, the largest Graplar raised its head toward us. I froze, as did Darius. That moment, with the beast’s beady eyes locked on where we were standing, dragged on for an eternity before the hulking creature sneezed and meandered off into the woods. Releasing a quiet sigh of relief, I again followed Darius’s lead. It took hours to return to the familiar area around Shadow Academy, but we didn’t speak. Maybe we were both tired. Maybe we had both been affected by the journey to Wood’s Cross. Maybe we were terrified that our voices might attract more vigilant Graplars. I didn’t know. And I certainly hadn’t been expecting to feel a sensation of relief at seeing the wall around the academy. But I did.

My relief, however, was short-lived. I tugged Darius’s
sleeve in a near-panic. “Darius, the herbs! We were supposed to be gathering—”

“Moss sprigs? I know.” He dug in his satchel for a moment before producing a swatch of leather that had been rolled up and tied closed. I took the package, dumbfounded as to when he’d gathered the herbs, but guessing it was while I lay sleeping last night. A strange gratitude filled me, and I was surprised at its presence. I was grateful that Darius had brought me on this strange field trip, grateful that he’d reminded me that I already had a reason to fight, and that it wasn’t just the ghost of Avery—that it was the still-living people that I cared about. And more than that, I was glad that he’d shown me Wood’s Cross. Because evil like that was likely just a drop of what Darrek contained, and it could not be allowed to permeate our world, no matter what. Avery had been my reason for coming here, but now I had reason to fight, and reason to learn. Reason, it seemed, to give it my all here at Shadow Academy.

As Darius knocked on the giant metal door, I said, “Thank you.”

He nodded over his shoulder at me just as the small window opened, revealing Raden’s eyes on the other side.

M
addox, slow down!” I shouted after her, but she just rolled her eyes at me over her left shoulder as she exited my dorm room. Ever since we’d left the hospital wing, she’d been scurrying about all day, like some kind of wild toothboar. It was almost as if she had to prove just how healthy she really was, despite having been bitten by a Graplar just a few days before.

I had waited all day for Trayton to appear, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Maddox and I were headed out of the dorm for, of all places, the rose gardens. But just as Maddox had finally slowed her pacing a bit so I could catch up, Melanie passed in the hall with a smirk on her face. “By the way, Kaya, Trayton looks ravishing today. Or…haven’t
you
seen him?”

She put an emphasis on the word ‘you’ that I didn’t much appreciate, but I walked by her, pretending that I hadn’t heard a word she’d uttered. As I did so, she
stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and leaned in close, her smile twisted and threatening. “Tell him, Kaya. Tonight. Or I will.”

I shook off her hand, flashed her a hard glare, and followed Maddox down the hall and down the stairs. By the time we reached the outside, my stomach was in knots.

Melanie was going to tell Trayton about my having been in Darius’s cabin, if I didn’t tell him first. She’d left me just the way she liked me, with no choice, in a no-win situation. My shoulders sank with defeat.

“There you are!” Trayton ran over to me from across the courtyard, a big smile on his face. His feet barely made a sound on the cobblestone, and when he reached me, he wasn’t even out of breath. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Did you miss me?”

It was easy to smile around Trayton, but my smile still felt false, forced somehow. “Of course I did.”

“How was your trip? I heard you and Darius were picking weeds in the Outer Rim.”

Shrugging, I said, “It was pretty boring and uneventful, considering all the warnings we hear about the area. What about you? What did you do while I was away?”

Trayton smiled. “I’m just glad that Darius was with you. I would have gone, but apparently the orders came in while I was busy fortifying the north wall. But you were safe with him. He’s probably the only person
besides myself I’d trust to guard you outside the wall. Do anything interesting since you’ve been back?”

It struck me then just how many interesting things I did when Trayton wasn’t around. An image flashed in my mind—one of katana blades slicing through the air—but I pushed it away. “Oh. You know. Nothing much. Studied some weeds. Terked off Instructor Baak.”

Trayton chuckled, so trusting. I was his Healer, after all. Why would I lie to him? “The usual, huh?”

“Yeah.” I bit my bottom lip, my stomach roiling some in tension. “The usual.”

What I wanted to do was to tell him everything, that I had been training with Darius in secrecy this whole time, that I had been in his cabin not so long ago, that Melanie was a terrible person and trying to blackmail me. But what I did was smile and hold my breath and wait for Maddox to announce that we had to get going or Mr. Gareth would wonder where I was. As if on cue, Maddox said, “We should really get going, Kaya.”

I could have hugged her, and probably would have.

If I’d wanted a slug in the arm, that is.

S
lipping my training mask over my face, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I hadn’t been training with Darius for long, but that didn’t diminish my fears. Darius, it turned out, wasn’t a guy to hold back for a girl…or a Healer…or anyone at all. When he came at me with his katana, he came at me full force, stopping just short of lopping my head from my shoulders. He’d explained how most Barrons train in levels. The first year of training they’d wield a wooden bokken, and only after that would they move to an actual blade. But Darius wasn’t a first year instructor, so he had no easy access to the bokkens. Taking one would have alerted the first year instructor that something was up, so it was best, Darius insisted, that I learn with an actual katana from the start. Besides, it earned me a glint of respect in his eyes.

Sure, he hadn’t said that, but I could see a glimmer of
pride in his gaze whenever I’d swing the blade forward at just the right angle and snap it into place crisply.

I was improving, but the practice wasn’t easy. My legs were covered in countless bruises, and two days ago, I tripped as Darius was taking a swipe at me, catching my arm on his blade. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it hurt like hell and had bled all over the sleeve of my training uniform. Maddox helped me wash it out in the sink, and I stitched up the hole. Something about the repair job made me smile. The cut reminded me of my training, and I was immensely proud of myself for sticking it out even this far. A week might not have been much, but Darius said I was picking up the skills pretty quickly—especially for being a Healer, which I took as a compliment.

Now my mask was on and I moved across the school grounds without Maddox, my footfalls as silent as I could manage. Darius said I sounded like a drunken Graplar tromping through the woods more than I did a Barron—his charming way, I was guessing, of saying that we needed to work on my stealth.

The south gate was busier than usual, but I approached it as I had every morning that week, and looked around for my instructor. Darius patted a fellow Barron roughly on the back and turned my way. “You’re late,” he grumbled, as he did every morning. “Again.”

I wasn’t late. And the first few times he’d accused me of being late, it had infuriated me. But on the third
go-round, I realized he was just being Darius, just egging me on, for no reason at all that I could understand. I’d let it roll off of me ever since then, and accepted that it was just his strange way of greeting me.

We moved out the gate, Darius in front, as always, and walked down the hill, quickly making our way to the abandoned training area. When we got there, I removed my mask and hung it from a low-hanging branch. Adjusting my hair, pulling it tight back in the leather thong, I noticed Darius was looking at me. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what I was doing wrong now. “What is it?”

Darius shook his head, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Now if you’re done primping, we can practice some offensive maneuvers. Or do you need to put on a skirt first?”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the center of the training ring, my katana on my back. The weapon felt lighter after a week of training, and I found myself growing more comfortable with the sensation of it in my hands as the days went by. Every morning began the same way: three hours of training with Darius, a quick breakfast, then off to Instructor Baak’s ridiculous Healing 101 class to learn just why good Healers should sit on the sidelines and let their Barrons do all the work. And every evening ended the same way: extra duties in the rose garden after terking off Instructor Baak. Luckily, Trayton had taken to keeping me company there,
and we were getting to know one another pretty well. I never mentioned my training. I knew how he’d react to it, and there was no way I was going to endanger my family or my instructor, simply because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

Darius unsheathed his katana and stepped into the ring. “The thing about fighting Graplars is that most moves you’ll use will be defensive. You want to wear them out, and keep their mouths busy until the right target presents itself at the right time—that target being its throat. A katana can definitely take down a Graplar, but almost never in a single cut. Decapitating a person is one thing—taking the head off a Graplar is quite another. The trick is getting to a right angle on the beast so that the neck is exposed. Best course of action is to evade a charge and cut through the knee, then pivot as the Graplar stumbles and take the head. Or you can hit the creature under the chin with a rising cut in order to raise its head and expose its throat for a horizontal cut. But be quick and firm about it—don’t let the beast suffer. We kill to protect our fellow man. Not to be cruel.”

That excited light entered his eyes as he spoke and, once again, I could sense his deep respect for Graplars, though I couldn’t understand it. As far as I had seen, Graplars were stupid, drooling monsters that deserved to have their heads lopped off. But what Darius saw when he looked at them was something else entirely. He actually admired the creatures. I got the feeling that
if there were any way to protect Barrons and Healers from King Darrek’s advances without harming a single Graplar, Darius would do it in a heartbeat.

It really made you wonder about his social life.

“Never forget. You must move swiftly like the wind, stay as silent as the forest, attack as fierce as the fire, and be undefeatable like the mountain. Now,” he said, his eyes becoming serious, his lips thinning into a line, “attack me.”

Holding the katana in front of me, with my right hand directly beneath the guard, I placed my other hand about three inches down on the pommel. I kept my center of gravity low and my eyes on Darius, who barely moved with each breath he took. Then I stepped forward, raising my blade up and swinging it through the air at the perfect angle, its metal singing, my arm pulling the weapon through the air, ready to cleave Darius’s shoulder in two.

But the idea of hurting him put hesitation into my blow, and Darius knew it—I could see it in his eyes. He moved forward, light on his feet, and pulled his blade up against mine. The sound of metal on metal rang through the air. And the next thing I knew, he brought his foot up and kicked me in the stomach, sending me flying. I landed in the underbrush several feet back, the air knocked from my lungs, a terrible ache at my core. Pain rocketed through my spine as I landed on my backside, but all I could think about was getting to
my katana—wherever it was—and getting back in that ring.

Darius stood over me, a katana in each hand. He wasn’t smirking, but I could tell that he was fighting not to. “You”—he said as he held my katana out to me and smiled—“lost.”

Yanking my weapon from his hand, I stood again and headed for the ring, brushing a mess of stray hairs from my eyes. “Let’s go again.”

“No.”

Spinning on my heel, I met his eyes. “What? Why not? We’re here to train, so let’s train.”

He shook his head slowly, sheathing his katana once more. “You’re not in the right frame of mind. You have to be clearheaded to attack successfully. Right now your head is clouded with anger. We’ll continue our lessons tomorrow.”

He turned away from me then, and within my veins, my blood began to boil. Before I gave it much thought, I ran after him, raising my katana in an attack. Darius, as if expecting this move, brought his sword back, blocking my blow in a clang of metal. He stopped, holding there, as if awaiting my next move, but I hesitated. Twisting around, he forced my katana away. His eyes were bright and fierce, and my heart was rattling with fury. The blade of his sword was pointing down, and as he backed away, he maintained his grip on it, as if he were ready for action. He looked at me pointedly and I
could tell that his patience was wearing thin. His tone meant business. “We’re done.”