Blade of the North Read online

  But then, like a puzzle, all of Storm’s vague comments or strange looks, suddenly lock into place. From her constant reminders that we don’t know what it means to be an assassin, to her seeming disdain of actually being an assassin. This is her purpose – not to train assassins, but to help them after they’ve been broken. But then…

  “Why train us?” I ask. “It isn’t because killing Tigranik is the right thing to do - you already told us there was nothing honourable in being an assassin. So why?”

  “Remember the alternative?” Storm asks me.

  With our training over the past months, and the growing connection I’d felt towards Storm as my teacher and mentor, I’d forgotten the moment we first met her – and the doom she pronounced on us. “Would you really have executed us?”

  “To keep this village secret, yes,” she replies.

  “Then you’re still a murderer,” Theolin growls. “What’s the difference between assassinating someone and killing people like us simply to keep your little secret?”

  “There is a difference to me,” Storm replies quietly. “But you may be right. Perhaps there is none.”

  A dark silence descends on us, and I look again at the returned assassins. Surely that can’t be my future. I’m trying to save Father, and stopping the war is the only way to do that. But to stop the war, I have to kill Tigranik. No, I won’t let this be my fate.

  “It’s time to go back,” Storm says. “You can have the rest of tonight to yourselves. In a week’s time, I will set one final task for you. After that, I will help you plan in whatever way I can. Then you are free to leave.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  After another week of gruelling training, Storm leads out into the forest. We are quickly separated, with two guides taking each of us to a different location. Tonight, we will perform the final task Storm has set for us. None of us know what it is. Storm and Karam are my guides and they lead me to the weir. It is a beautiful night and the moon reflects radiantly off the river.

  “You don’t need to be strong,” Storm tells me. “You can’t be weak, but you don’t need to be strong. At least not in the way you think. Watch.”

  She jumps lightly up into a tree and effortlessly pulls herself up to sit comfortably on a branch. Then she drops down to the ground again just as easily. It’s something I’ve seen her do hundreds of times.

  “I can lift myself easily enough. But I can’t lift someone like him,” Storm says, nodding to Karam. “You need to be deceptively strong. Let others underestimate you, then show them their mistake. But most of all, you need to remain strong in here.” She jabs a finger at my chest, over my heart. “I see the strength in you, Sara. Remember that it comes from inside you.”

  I nod my understanding. At least I think I understand. Does Storm really believe I’m strong?

  “Now for your task,” she says, getting back to what I have to do tonight. “On the other side of the river you will find a deer. Your task is simple – find the deer and kill it. The others all have a similar task, except for Jarryd.”

  “What’s his task?” I ask, only half interested, my attention focused instead on the other side of the river.

  “He’s looking after our returned assassins,” Karam answers.

  I barely notice Storm reach into her pocket, but then she raises her hand and throws something at my face. Immediately pain like fire burns my eyes. I rub my eyes, trying to get out whatever Storm threw at me. But it’s no good. Opening my eyes is painful – and useless. I can barely see.

  “Now you must use your other senses to see,” Storm says.

  “What? I don’t underst - agh!” I scream in agony as I feel a blade slice deeply through my left shoulder. I cover it with my right hand and feel the blood seeping out between my fingers.

  “You must ignore the pain,” Storm says. “Some people choose to embrace pain, but whether you ignore or embrace it is your choice. Either way, you must put it out of your mind in order to succeed.”

  Put it out of my mind? Is she serious? The pain is excruciating. Trying to lift my shoulder only brings another wave of searing pain.

  Suddenly my head explodes and I fall, flat on my back, to the ground.

  “Remember,” Storm says from somewhere above me, “anger will only get you so far. You must control your emotions if you want to control your pain.”

  My nose is bleeding now too. It was definitely Storm’s foot that connected with my face. I could feel the leather of her shoe for the instant it was in contact with my skin.

  I’m in agony, but fury pushes me through it, and I slowly lift myself off the ground.

  “Off you go,” Storm commands, as she places the handle of her knife in my palm.

  Grimacing, I stumble towards the rocks of the weir. Traversing the weir with my eyes unencumbered requires concentration. Now, with my eyesight so afflicted, it is near impossible. My foot slips almost immediately and I land hard on the rocks, my leg in the water.

  I want to scream! This is so ridiculous! How am I supposed to hunt down a deer like this? I’m half blind, my shoulder is bleeding and every time I move it a jolt of pain shoots through me. Ignore the pain or embrace it, Storm’s words come back to me. I’m certainly not one to enjoy pain, so I to try to ignore it instead. Pushing aside my frustration, I breathe deeply, calm my mind, and take stock of my situation.

  My shoulder is hurt, but it still moves. Is it something I can ignore? For the moment at least, yes. My vision is badly impaired, but I can discern shapes and colours. Then something else occurs to me. The noise of the river as it passes over the weir is more acute than normal; the smell of the water is clean and strong, and I feel the cool air gently stir my hair as it whispers past. Slowly a smile creases my face. My other senses are trying to make up for my diminished eyesight.

  Rising to my feet I take another step forward. This time I feel my foot as it touches the rock, as the soft leather sole of my shoe moulds around the uneven stone until it takes a firm grip. Then I take a second step, then another, each step faster, surer than the last. I see a dark, fuzzy wall of green in the distance – the far side of the weir. Below me, I hear the water as it races through gaps between the rocks or splashes over them. The more I concentrate on my surroundings and what my senses are telling me, the less I notice the fire in my shoulder.

  Steadily I make my way across the weir until I set foot on the opposite bank. Storm didn’t provide any hint as to what direction the deer would be, so I decide to follow the river upstream. I’ve always been able to walk quietly and the past couple of months have only made me better. The crunch of the pebbles and sand beneath my feet is barely audible, unlikely to alert a deer. If anything is to give me away, it will be my scent. Fortunately, the wind is blowing from deeper in the forest.

  My ears are attuned now to every noise. Birds chirp, branches creak above me, reeds rustle as I brush through them. The night is alive with sounds that I usually don’t hear – or at least don’t notice. But now that I can’t rely solely on my vision, I hear everything around me. At times the sound of the river even grows too loud, blocking out other noises before receding into the background again.

  The occasional rustle of a plant makes me pause, and I strain my ears, desperate for some indication that the deer is nearby. So far nothing, so I move away from the riverbank and into the forest. Thankfully I can see enough to know that the big shapes in front of me are trees, otherwise I’d walk into every one of them. Despite my visual handicap, I’m treading so lightly on the forest floor that I can barely hear my own footfalls.

  I freeze as a muffled crack sounds in the distance. Crouching low I inch my way in that direction. Another crack, closer. This time I know what it is – an animal is chewing leaves on a small branch and breaking them away from the stem. As I move closer a brown, blurry shape comes into view. It stands out from the surrounding foliage and occasionally one end of it – I assume a head - moves. It must be the deer. I relax my fingers around the hilt of the knife
then flex them tight again.

  I’m surprised how easy it is to move within striking distance of the deer. A quick leap and slash with the knife will end the animal’s life. But, now that I’m so close, my feet don’t move. My heart beats quicker and my palm grows clammy - I’ve never killed a deer before. I remember the times when I jumped from a tree to land on a deer. But that was only to catch it, never to kill it. Now I’m here, mere feet away from this deer, with a knife in my hand.

  Then I remember Storm’s often repeated words – don’t hesitate!

  Jumping out with the knife in front of me, I plunge it into what I hope is the animal’s neck. But the strike isn’t clean. The animal cries out and tries to flee but my weight is on it and I hold on tight with my left arm. The wound in my shoulder tears wider and I howl in pain but refuse to let go. Another stab quickly silences the deer’s cries. But not my own.

  Lying on the dead animal’s body I hold my bleeding, aching shoulder. Blood flows freely between my fingers, and I can’t help but let out another anguished cry. Then I remember why I’m here, and my howl of pain turns to a cry of joy. This deer represents Tigranik - and Father’s safety. I clamp my mouth shut and roll off the deer. I’m covered in its blood, as well as my own, but I ignore it. And I ignore the pain.

  Rising to my feet, the realisation of what I have just accomplished floods through me. With my eyes nearly blind and a knife wound in my shoulder, I tracked and killed a wild deer. The meaning of tonight is simple - I can succeed as an assassin.

  I head back to the river with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction, thinking of Storm’s face when I tell her about my success. She’ll beam with pride and -

  “Well done,” I hear her voice behind me.

  I whirl around. My eyesight is slightly better than it was but all I can see is a blurry human shape in front of me. How is she here? Did she track me the whole way without my noticing?

  “Although the scream at the end would have meant your own death,” she adds, before walking off in the direction of the river.

  I stare after her. That she was able to follow me without my knowledge doesn’t lessen what I have just achieved. It simply shows how much better I need to become.

  Jarryd has worked tirelessly bandaging our wounds. It seems that each of us received a knife cut to make us learn how to “ignore the pain” while hunting our prey. Except for Miya who chose not to attempt the hunt. Everyone else was successful in bringing down their game, even Rose, which surprised me. Now we are all gathered back outside our hut, shoulders or arms bandaged, eating our stew.

  “Have any of you been to Malikaran?” Storm asks.

  Our silence, as well as a couple of shaking heads, is our answer.

  “Do you have any plan for how you will get in?” she persists.

  “It’s a city,” I reply. “Why do we need a plan for how to get in? We walk in.”

  Karam’s laugh lets me know I have said something plainly stupid. To him at least. “Malikaran is not just a city,” he says, “it is a city within a city. And you do not just walk in. Sure, you can enter the outer suburbs of Malikaran. But to enter the Royal District, the heart of Tigranik’s royal city, you need a permit.”

  “And obtaining one may be your most difficult obstacle,” Storm adds.

  “Why do we need a permit?” Aveline asks.

  “The Royal District,” Storm explains, “which itself is larger than most other cities, is where Tigranik lives. He knows there are always plots against him. If it isn’t some competitor for his throne, or an upstart wanting to make a political name for themselves, there is always some disgruntled person somewhere who wants to put a knife through his ribs. So he locks his city up tight. His personal safety, after all, is his foremost concern. No one can enter or leave the Royal District of Malikaran without a permit. And getting an entry permit is nearly impossible.”

  “Anyone who requests a permit is ruthlessly checked,” Karam says. “Anyone who is considered even slightly suspect will simply disappear.”

  “Disappear?” I ask.

  “Taken, kidnapped, murdered, whatever you want to call it,” Storm replies. “But not before they have been thoroughly interrogated and forced to reveal everything they know about any plot – real or imagined – against the emperor. It then gives him a reason to launch more repressive acts against anyone considered to be harbouring thoughts of discontent.”

  “What if they have nothing to reveal? What if they’re innocent and not involved in any plot?” Rose asks.

  Storm shrugs her shoulders. “Tigranik is happy to sacrifice a few innocents to ensure he catches all the guilty.”

  “How do we go about getting a permit?” I ask.

  “Not through legal channels,” Karam replies.

  “We need an illegal permit?” Aveline asks.

  “No, you need a legal permit,” Storm answers. “But you need to go through… alternative means to obtain it. If you try the official route, they will have you up on a conspiracy charge, simply because they don’t know who you are. But there is a man who helps acquire legal entry permits. His name is Vahla Jyn. I suggest you seek him out when you arrive in Malikaran. He’s in the Potters District. Or at least he used to be.”

  “If it is so difficult to obtain a permit, how will this Vahla Jyn be able to obtain eight?” Theolin asks.

  “Seven,” Miya counters.

  “What do you mean?” Theolin says.

  “I’m not coming,” Miya answers. “I’m staying here.”

  There is shocked silence. After all the training we’ve done, how can Miya not want to continue? I know she still grieves for Bree - surely she wants to see justice done to Tigranik, the man responsible for her death?

  “I don’t have it in me to kill someone,” Miya explains. Seeing the look on Storm and Karam’s faces, it’s obvious they already know. “I’ve learned so much about killing, but I’ve also learned a lot about healing. I want to heal people, not kill them. There’s enough pain in the world without me adding to it. I’d rather help to lessen it.” Miya looks around at all of us. “You do it. You kill Tigranik and end the war. The world will be better for it – but I’m not going with you.”

  The silence stretches on while we absorb Miya’s words. I’m furious with her, and I’m sure the others are too. Does she think I want to kill anyone? I don’t! But I have no choice. I must kill Tigranik – it is the only hope I have for saving Father.

  “I understand,” Jarryd says at last, and the others mumble their agreement.

  Miya smiles, clearly grateful at the acceptance of her decision.

  It is all I can do not to scream. How can they let Miya abandon us? Worse, they truly do seem as though they understand her decision. But we need her, don’t they see that?

  “So there will be seven of you,” Storm says, returning to our original conversation. “As for Tigranik himself, his sword is not his most deadly weapon. Remember – even though he is a conqueror he is also a politician. Words are his most dangerous weapon – they are like poison.”

  “We don’t intend to talk him to death,” Theolin says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Storm smiles wryly. “What you intend and what actually occurs are often two different things. You need to ready yourselves for any eventuality. That’s how an assassin prepares. And remember – you’re not assassins yet.”

  “What do you mean we’re not?” I ask, offended.

  To my surprise, it is Alek who answers. “It should be obvious. We haven’t killed anyone yet.”

  “That’s right,” Storm says. “You haven’t killed anyone yet. And as honourable as you think assassinating the emperor is, remember what killing him will do to you.” She sighs, lowering her head. “Sometimes what you know is preferable to the unknown. You still have time to decide which you think is best.”

  “No, we don’t,” I say. “Tolos can only hold out for another three months. When the city falls, my father, and countless others, will die. Tigranik needs
to be stopped so that the war and the killing will end.”

  Not even Theolin rounds on me like she once would have. She is as invested in killing the emperor as I am, though for different reasons. She no longer seems to resent the fact that my father is alive while her family is dead.

  “Like I said,” Storm says, “you still have time to decide. Now get some sleep. You leave in the morning. We’ll escort you to the edge of the forest. From there, you’re on your own.”

  In the morning, at the base of the fallen tree trunk where we first met Strom, we make our farewells. Only Jondar and his team of scouts will escort us out of the forest. I’m sad to be saying goodbye to Storm. Her advice, and the way she has seemed to look out for me, makes me think of her as a friend. Karam is beside her, as always, but with them now is Miya. She seems genuinely content to be staying behind.

  “You travel as seven,” Storm says to us, “but you must act as one. If you are not committed to your goal and committed to each other, you will fail.” Her eyes take us in, one by one. “Now, look at each other. If you have doubts, now is the time to turn away. Otherwise, your doubts will kill all of you.”

  They’re sobering words, made more so as we look at each other, weighing up our own resolve.

  “Once you begin,” Storm continues, “there is no turning back. For any of you.”

  Dain’s eyes are locked with Rose’s. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay behind as well?” he asks her.

  “There’s nothing for me here,” Rose quietly replies. “You know that.”

  The way they are looking at each other, and those words… is there something between them, something I’ve missed?

  “Might as well,” Alek says, turning my attention towards him. “We’ve got to die somewhere, sometime. Why not die trying to kill Tigranik?” He shrugs his shoulders. “We might even get lucky.”