Blade of the North Page 11

  “So Storm can do her work without fear of being observed or recognised,” Karam says. “But I don’t protect her. She protects me.”

  “It is actually quite amusing to watch Karam with a knife or a sword,” Storm says, smiling at her friend. “He’s more dangerous to himself than anyone else.”

  We’re all staring at them, open-mouthed in disbelief.

  “But… but… surely you could overpower someone with your strength,” Jarryd insists.

  “Sure,” Karam agrees. “But that doesn’t count for much if they have weapons.”

  “But…” Jarryd starts, then stops, at a loss for words.

  Suddenly I understand what Storm and Karam are saying. “Everyone has a different role to play,” I say. Storm watches me intently as I speak, so I choose my words carefully. “Not everyone has the skills to be an assassin. But that doesn’t mean they can’t help. Look at Tigranik’s army. Not everyone is a soldier. Some are scouts. A few are generals. Others ride in the cavalry. All of them have a different role but still contribute to the overall success of the army.” I know this relates somehow to our training, but I can’t figure out how.

  “That’s right,” Storm says, giving me a satisfied nod. “If an assassin is to be successful, they need to be part of a team. A very good team. Someone needs to gather intelligence, not only on the intended victim but also on the person who hires you. Weapons and disguises need to be procured or made. Everyone must do their part to ensure success. Just because you’re not wielding the blade or administering the poison, doesn’t mean your role is any less valuable.”

  “Especially in an honourable cause,” I add, feeling that I’ve grasped what she is trying to teach us.

  “Except there is nothing honourable in being an assassin,” Storm rebukes me.

  My eyes nearly burst out of my head. Did she really say that?

  “You’re teaching us how to become assassins!” Aveline blurts out, echoing my own thoughts. “How can you not believe in an honourable cause?”

  “How can you think there is anything honourable in taking the life of another?” she counters.

  “But… but, this is the emperor we’re talking about,” I splutter. “We want to end the war.”

  “I know,” Storm replies calmly. “But who are you to be the emperor’s judge? Or anyone else’s for that matter?” she adds quietly.

  “You can’t believe what you’re saying,” Theolin says, “not when you lead the most feared group of assassins in the world.”

  “Are we?” Storm asks, more to herself than to us. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she sounded… regretful. “I suppose we are, but that doesn’t change anything. We’re not in an honourable profession. Never fall into the trap of thinking that we are.”

  I can’t believe this. “But… what about the other assassins here? How many deaths must you all be responsible for? I’m with Theolin. You can’t believe what you’re saying. Is this another test? To make us think about something from our training?”

  Storm looks at each of our faces. This time I’m in no doubt - she is regretful. And sad. But I can’t understand why. Then I see the same look on Karam and Jondar’s faces.

  “None of you have any idea what it means to be an assassin,” Storm says quietly. “Not yet.”

  I’m about to ask her what she means when Jondar stands up. “Enough eating,” he says. “Time for the next lesson.” With that, the discussion ends, and I’m forced to save my questions for later, as we grudgingly put down our meals and follow him. He leads us across the bridges towards the edge of the tree village, leaving the huts behind us.

  “You can run on the ground,” Storm says to us. “Or at least you are learning to,” she adds, a barb aimed no doubt at Jarryd. It angers me that she can be so petty, taking pleasure in mocking someone she believes to be inferior to herself. To his credit, Jarryd doesn’t display any signs of irritation.

  “Now you are going to learn to run where things aren’t so easy,” Storm continues. “Up here, balance and dexterity are all that count. Not strength.”

  Is she crazy? What does she expect us to run on? There are no more paths suspended above the ground, no more stairs built around the trees. Nothing. There are only the trees and their massive branches, mingling and weaving among each other. But you can’t run along those.

  Then, as though reading my thoughts, Storm jumps over the railing and runs out along one of the massive branches. She moves lightly, deftly leaping from branch to branch, tree to tree. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Springing up she grabs hold of a higher branch and swings up onto it, then she dives down to latch onto a lower branch before dropping down onto yet another. She does it all without slowing her pace. How does she not fall? Even though the branches are large, how do they not break? Some sway under her weight but they don’t even crack.

  In no time at all, she is nearly three hundred feet away. Three hundred feet! “Now come to me,” she shouts back to us.

  “Is she serious?” Rose asks.

  “Off you go,” Karam says in answer.

  He gives Rose a gentle push out along the closest branch. Waving her arms around to keep her balance she tentatively inches her way towards the next branch. She’s nearly at it when her legs refuse to move anymore, and she crouches down and grabs the branch with her hands.

  “Keep coming,” Storm calls out.

  I can’t just stand by and watch, so I walk out after Rose. When I reach her, I see the fear in her eyes. Out here, away from the huts, the foliage below us is thinner and I can actually see the ground. It’s a long way down, but I don’t focus on it. There’s no point. I’ll either fall or I won’t. Besides, I’m good at climbing trees – this is just much higher than what I’m used to. So I don’t look down. And I don’t get scared. “Come on Rose,” I whisper. She looks up at me, then slowly, cautiously, she forces herself to move, crawling onto another branch.

  “Keep going Fairgrey,” I hear Theolin’s voice right behind me. “And don’t wobble the branch.”

  Smiling, I jump to the next branch, ensuring the one I left wobbles just a little. I walk along the branches, slowly at first, but as my confidence increases, so does my speed. I trust my balance but I’m no match for Storm and what she just did. I move as quickly as I can but not so fast as to be dangerous.

  Reaching another enormous tree trunk, I wrap my arms around it and take a short break. Looking around I see the others making their way slowly across the maze of branches. Aveline is nearly up to where I am, as is Theolin. Surprisingly Dain is only slightly behind Theolin. His extra weight obviously isn’t hindering him. Miya and Alek are barely doing any better than Rose, but they are still on their feet. Jarryd is sitting down next to Karam and Jondar – he has decided to not even try. He watches on with frustration as the rest of us traverse the course.

  At first, I’d seen the branches as nothing more than limbs spreading out from the trunk. Now I see them as paths. There’s more than one way across to where Storm is waiting, but I choose to follow the same branches she used. Swinging up onto higher branches is easy, leaping off a perfectly sturdy branch into empty air is not. Holding my breath, I launch myself out into nothing. Falling, I feel like I’ve just jumped to my death. Then my hands latch onto the branch I had aimed for and I swing down onto another branch and keep running, exhilarated.

  Reaching Storm, I’m flushed with excitement as I realise I’m first. But my elation is cut short as she barely notices me, giving me only the faintest of nods.

  “You took the same path I used,” she says, watching the others as they make their way across the treacherous course.

  “If it was good enough for you…” I reply.

  “That’s right, it was good enough for me,” she says. “Sometimes it is safest to follow someone else’s footsteps. Other times it is cowardly. Don’t be afraid to make your own path.”

  Her words are like a knife in my chest. I was hoping for some sort of “well done,” or at least a
n acknowledgment of what I’ve just accomplished. I am the fastest! I beat the others here and all she has to say is, “don’t be afraid to make your own path.” What is that even supposed to mean?

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next few days follow the same routine. We sleep during the daylight hours – unless Storm wants to torture us with a run - then follow her, Karam, and Jondar out for our nightly lessons. Our pretend knife fighting progresses to the point where Storm allows us to use actual knives. Only wooden ones though, so we can’t do any real harm to each other. At least it is a step up from painting our hands. After our first session with wooden knives, Aveline asks me to stay behind and practice more with her. I’m surprised by the offer but eagerly agree.

  Storm teaches us how to hold the knife, how to twirl it through our fingers, even how to spin it across our palms. It needs to become a part of our hand, she says. She even begins to spar with us – but she gets to use a wooden sword against our small, wooden knives.

  “Move,” Storm exhorts me, effortlessly swinging the sword at my head. She is deceptively strong, wielding the sword as though it were a thin reed. Her muscles aren’t big, but they are wiry and strong.

  She brings the sword around then swings it down toward my head. Lifting my knife to block it does nothing – the sword smashes through my knife and crashes onto the top of my head. I stumble to my knees, stunned.

  “Up,” she orders.

  I stand up and move around her again, warily.

  “Don’t take the full impact of the strike,” she barks. “Move! Flow with the power of my attack, redirect it. Never try and use strength against strength. You’ll lose.”

  I nod my head, exhausted. She comes in and lifts her sword for another downward strike. I raise my knife to block, but this time as the sword comes down, I step to the side. The sword crashes down through my knife, but I’m out of its way and it slices down harmlessly beside me. I smile – I’m actually getting good at this! But then the sword is coming back at my chest. I jump back quickly – but not quick enough, as the sword slams into my ribs. I fall to my knees and clutch my side, winded.

  Frustrated I punch the ground. As I’m about to push myself back up I feel Storm’s hand on my shoulder. “Keep practicing,” she says quietly. “You’re getting it.”

  I look up, amazed. Her voice is almost… friendly. It’s the first time she’s said anything encouraging like –

  Suddenly my head explodes with pain as it rocks back, sending me sprawling to the ground. I felt but didn’t see her knee come up under my chin.

  “Don’t leave yourself in a vulnerable position like that,” she says, the stern, unforgiving teacher once again.

  Other nights Karam takes us out to repeat his lectures on poisons and antidotes. Each time he sets us a task of obtaining plants from the forest to bring back for his inspection. He examines the tiny harvest we bring him, but he never tells us if we are correct in what we have gathered. Aveline suggests we try the plants for ourselves with the antidote close at hand to see if we have gathered the right plants or not. Stony silence is her answer. After all, if we’re not certain about the poisonous plants, how can we be sure we have the right plants that provide the antidote?

  Getting past Storm on the rocky weir still proves beyond any of us. And it is starting to hurt more. The longer we are with her, the harder she trains us - and the harder she hits. Most of my ribs are bruised and there is a cut above my eye from where her staff has connected while I tried to get past her. The others are feeling it too. But none of us has complained or even admitted to feeling much pain, not even Jarryd, who is covered in more cuts and purple bumps than any of us. We even show off our injuries after the lessons have ended in an attempt to impress each other. When Aveline lifts her shirt to show off the bruises on her stomach, the boys’ eyes pop out of their heads in unison. If it wasn’t for the amused smirk she tries to conceal, I’d swear she does it purely for the attention.

  Despite the heavy knocks and bruises, I’m getting better. To be fair, all of us are improving, but none more so than Aveline and me. The extra practice we’re doing together is paying off. The one exception though is Jarryd. The more I watch him fail a task, or get hurt, the more I feel sorry for him. But he has an enormous store of courage, and each time he falls or is knocked down, he lifts himself back up. And regardless of his own injuries, he always keeps one eye on Aveline, seemingly more concerned for her wellbeing than for his own.

  Aveline. Who would have thought we would become friends? I spend more time with her than with any of my old friends from Farley. Jarryd often accompanies us but most of the time it is just the two of us. We talk during our extra practice sessions, and I’ve come to know almost everything about her. Similarly, I haven’t held back telling her anything about me. We talk easily, like old friends. And somehow her friendship has helped me to improve.

  I don’t ignore the others – that would be impossible given we are with each other every hour of the day and night. So I witness the changes in them too. Alek’s sense of humour hasn’t returned. He seems to see only the darker side of life now. The mischievous friend of my childhood has become morose, brooding, emotionless. Rose and Dain are almost inseparable. I feel a stab of jealousy at that. But why should I? I certainly don’t spend time with Dain or encourage any affection from him. As for Theolin and Miya… they are throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the training.

  The more we train, the stronger I become. I can’t compete with Dain’s strength, but when it comes to ducking and dodging, none of the others are my equal. Only Aveline and Theolin come close. Even my running has improved. Dain and Aveline are faster than me but I can keep running for as long as Storm makes us. Even though I fall flat with exhaustion after each run, it isn’t until I stop that the tiredness hits me. Then I feel like vomiting and collapse to the ground.

  I’m even confident that I have learned what plants to use. But without Karam’s feedback, I still question myself – and that’s infuriating.

  Yes, I’m improving. But then I watch Storm - her grace, her skill, her ability in everything is astounding. I still have a long way to go.

  As dangerous as it is, racing along the tree branches high above the ground is exhilarating. Leaves brushing against my face, branches bending under my weight as I run towards their tip before leaping out over nothing. Once or twice I have stumbled, barely catching myself on the branch under my feet before what would have been a fall to permanent injury – or worse. Even after those close calls I still never look down. I know that if I did, I would feel the danger as acutely as Rose does, and that would make me hesitant. And slow.

  Storm sets out a different start and finish point for us each time and has us out here every other night. Each time the route she chooses is tougher than the previous one. Tonight is no different. The branches are thinner towards their tips and the gap between them is wider. We have to choose our path carefully, planning as much as we can before we set off. But it isn’t easy. It’s not until I am standing on a branch that I know how strong it is, or I am on the edge of nothing before realising how far I must leap to land safely.

  Although my movements are cautious, I am still racing against Aveline and Theolin. Throughout all of our dashes through the heights of the trees, it has only ever been one of the three of us to finish first. We are the best at this, and I know they take it as much as a matter of pride as I do to win. It doesn’t matter that merely finishing is a huge accomplishment. Although it’s not supposed to be a race, we all want to win.

  Shuffling along a long branch I jump up and catch onto a thick, overhanging bough. Pulling myself up I run to the massive trunk of the tree and stop for a quick breath. Aveline is close behind me, following along the same branch I just leapt from. I can’t see Theolin though and I curse - she must be ahead of me. But there’s no sign of her in front of me either. Then I hear a creaking branch and look up. She’s taken a higher path than I had and is directly above me.

 
Pushing off from the trunk I race out along another branch. I’m running hard – too hard, I know, but I can hear Theolin’s footsteps above me. Jumping down from my branch I grab hold of it to control my fall to the branch below then keep running. This branch bends under my weight as I reach its end then I leap across to another, stronger branch without breaking stride.

  I can see the end now. Storm is sitting in the fork of a tree only a hundred feet away. I hear a thud behind me and am shocked to see Theolin has jumped down onto the same branch as me. I run harder, determined to beat her. Jumping across thin air I grab hold of a branch and pull myself up. I can no longer hear Theolin behind me. I realise I have raced ahead of her and joy floods through me as I reach the end of the branch.

  A loud crack from underfoot startles me, then I’m falling. My heart stops, terrified. With only ground below me, I know I’m about to die. Then my shoulder is suddenly pulled almost right out its socket and I’m stopped, suspended forty feet above the ground. Turning my eyes up I am shocked to see my saviour. Theolin, lying along a branch, is holding my arm with one hand, desperately clinging to the branch with her other. “Climb up!” she growls urgently.

  Obediently I pull myself up and lie down beside her, panting. I’m still coming to terms with what just happened. One moment I was falling to my death, then Theolin – Theolin Fells, of all people! – saved me.

  “You chose the wrong path,” she says, massaging her shoulder. The strength and effort required to catch me would have nearly torn her arm out as well.

  But she’s right. In my haste to beat her, I hadn’t stopped to plan out the final route to the finish.

  “Thank you,” I say. “You saved my life. But I… I don’t understand you. I thought you hated me.”

  Theolin simply glares at me. “Doesn’t mean I want to see you dead,” she replies. She stands up and strides off along the branch.

  “Theolin,” I call out. She stops and looks back over her shoulder at me. “Truce?” I ask, holding out my hand.