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The Killing Grounds Page 5


  Alara had so many questions that she didn’t know where to start. After a moment’s reflection she said, “I will await your return Lord.” She lowered her head and smoothed the cover of the book, enjoying the feel of the warm pages. For some unexplained reason they made her feel more relaxed and in control of her thoughts.

  “Good answer girl, now leave me.”

  Alara took one final look at Lord Osari and left his chambers. Her mind was a blur as she made her way back to the Quartermaster's office, where she dropped off the completed paperwork for the retirements and headed back to the barracks. Unlike earlier in the day the dorm was busy. A group of boys stood cheering as another group threw knives at a small round target stuck to a pillar in the middle of the room. Others were chatting in small groups or reading massive tomes. She figured that this must be their free time and settled onto her cot to get some rest. No sooner had she closed her eyes than a claxon sounded and the apprentices dropped what they were doing and filed out of the room. She watched them with interest until there was only one left. Gideon.

  “Well, are you coming then?” Without a second thought she raced from the dorm and caught up with the rest of her classmates. They walked in a silent single file through corridors that snaked around the old hotel finally coming out in a small meeting room where they mingled and chatted amongst themselves. Alara felt out of place and a little lost. She saw two boys enter a small courtyard that joined the meeting room and watched as they lit up cigarettes. She was seconds away from going to join them when Gideon approached her.

  “I seriously do not think that Lord Osari would be very pleased if you took up that filthy habit again,” he said, pointing to one of the boys who was in the middle of a coughing fit.

  She smiled at him and nodded in agreement, “What are we doing here?”

  “When you get back to the dorm check on the notice board in the corridor, you’ll find each day’s activities are clearly marked along with times, places and what you should bring.”

  She looked at the other apprentices, they all had cloth bags hanging over a shoulder or resting on the floor beside them. Oh crap!

  “Lord Sirap is not amused when a student comes to class without the correct textbooks, pencils and notebooks, but I guess that this is all new to you?”

  “Yes it is,” was all she managed to blurt out.

  Gideon delved into his bag and pulled out a thick textbook, pad and pencil and handed them to Alara. “Sit next to me and I’ll nudge you in the right direction,” he said, and then wandered off toward another group of apprentices.

  She looked down at the textbook in her hands and read the title on the cover. Poisons: Year 3, semester 1. Lord Sirap. The claxon sounded again and the group shuffled into an adjoining room, Alara followed Gideon's lead and sat next to him in the third row. The room had been organised into a small amphitheatre where the seats were set out in three rows of five, and ten rows deep. With only thirty-two pupils in the room there were many empty chairs. She settled in beside Gideon and scanned the room to get her first look at the rest of her classmates. The three girls gravitated to the front of the room, sat directly in front of the lectern and waited for Lord Sirap in silence. To Alara’s right a young skinny boy with black hair sat alone skimming through the same textbook that was now resting on Alara’s desk. A group of five others sat talking and giggling as one cracked a joke, and the group turned as a whole and burst into laughter and pointed at Alara.

  “Just ignore them,” Gideon said, but Alara noted each one in turn and made a mental note to watch them carefully. The rest of the class sat around in different areas casually reading or making notes. Alara's eyes settled onto one boy that sat well away from the rest of the class, his eyes were closed and a look of grim determination covered his face, or was it disgust? He had white hair that stood out against the black assassin’s fatigues. He was bigger than the rest of the class, and Alara guessed he was also significantly stronger than all of them except Gideon. She relaxed her mind and released it into the room, searching for any other Artists that may be in the group. Having them all together in one room would make it easier for her to spot any others. Her mind immediately met a barrier and pain shot through her head. She jerked back in her seat. “I wouldn’t bother trying that,” Gideon whispered. “All of the learning rooms are equipped with anti-magic wards. The caretakers like to keep the playing fields nice and even, to give us more mundane students a chance against you more gifted people.”

  Alara couldn’t figure out if Gideon was being serious or not. Everyone was allowed their own opinions on Artistry. And why did it matter to her anyway? But it did, and the more she tried to push the dig at her powers out of her mind, the more it annoyed her. She was tired and irritable, and in need of a shower more than she had ever been in her life. She squirmed in her chair and tried to move further away from Gideon. She didn’t want her pungent aroma reaching his nose.

  “Don’t bother to try and mask the smell either,” he said.

  Damn! What was it with these bloody assassins; they seem to be able to read my thoughts?

  “It’s not mind reading in case you’re wondering. It’s simply your body language that gives your thoughts away,” he said moving closer to her. “And I don’t mind the smell of hard work.”

  The doors to the rear of the classroom opened and Lord Sirap made his way down the stairs and to the front of the room. As with all of the other assassins he was dressed in normal black attire, and carried a heavy black case that reminded Alara of the one she had seen in Lord Osari’s rooms. Did that mean Lord Osari was a teacher as well? Lord Sirap stood and faced the room full of students, all of whom were now silently paying attention to him. “Morning class,” he announced.

  She was about to return the greeting, but the room stayed silent so she decided to follow the others’ lead.

  He looked around the room and took a quick mental count of the amount of students left. “Thirty-two,” he announced, “that’s seven less than last week but it’s still more than I expected. Nice to see you are still with us A1.” Gideon nodded to him but said nothing. “Now if someone could wake Black up we can continue.” All eyes went to the white-haired boy in the back of the room. He opened his eyes and glared back at them. The rest turned back to the front, but Alara held his stare. He caught her looking and tilted his head to get a better view. Gideon poked her in the side and Alara focused again on Lord Sirap. “So A1, could you please enlighten me as to the reason seven members of the class are no longer with us?”

  Gideon stood up and reported on the retirements. “Lord Sirap, Briah and Eran were lost on the training grounds during duelling trials, Arain and Darren were considered too weak to continue and were retired by the class, Milak hasn’t been seen since he went on a private mission with Lord Tiran, Stiran was found hanging in the dorms and Petar's disappearance is still a mystery.” Gideon sat back down once he finished his report.

  “Hmmm…Arain and Darren eh. And who was the responsible party for showing these two the error of their ways?” All eyes focused on Gideon.

  “I was tasked with the duty, Sir,” Gideon said without standing again.

  “I trust you sent them on their way with the minimum of fuss A1?”

  “Indeed Sir, thanks to your teachings neither boy felt a thing and were dispatched in their sleep.”

  Alara couldn’t believe what she was hearing and felt like vomiting, but she held it down and kept a straight face. If she had as many tells as Gideon alluded to, she needed time to practice being more stoic.

  “Good, the Guild thanks you for your dedication to the class A1… and I see the last recruit of the class has finally decided to join us.” His eyes fell on Alara but he waved away any need for a response from her. “I am just glad to see that Lord Osari has decided to join in Guild matters for a change. You will find it difficult here girl, and being last out of thirty-two will be hard on you as I am sure you realise from the report from A1. When next we meet I expect t
he group to be less than thirty, do I make myself absolutely clear class?"

  “Yes Lord Sirap,” the class replied as one.

  “Now who can tell me what sort of poison would be best used to bring this group down to a more manageable number?” Lord Sirap asked before launching into his lecture.

  Alara’s mind was racing to try and digest everything she had just heard. She tried to stay as still as possible, but the end of the pencil found its way to her mouth of its own accord, and she was chewing madly when Gideon’s timely prod in the ribs brought her back to the present. A shock went through her body as she imagined the dig was a knife aimed at her heart, but relaxed when she looked down to see Gideon’s empty hand. The rest of the lesson was a blur to Alara. Lord Sirap had shown slides and read from the textbook and the class took copious notes as he went along. Alara was lost from the beginning, and she found herself wondering what on earth she had let herself in for when the claxon sounded for a second time, and the class shut their books and started to silently file out of the door. Lord Sirap clapped his hands and the exodus halted for a second, he pointed at Alara. “Stay,” he commanded and she sat back down in her chair and waited for his instructions. Gideon was one of the first out the door and the rest of the boys followed him. The girls from the front row were the last to leave and passed Alara on their way out; the middle girl was short but lithe and had a shaved head. She shot Alara a look of disgust and hustled out of the door with her friends in tow.

  Lord Sirap stood in front of Alara with only a chair and her desk between them. He carefully placed a hand on the chair, reversed it and sat facing her. “Two years it’s taken for Lord Osari to come up with you, the rest of the class are six semesters in front of you, how do you think that you can possibly catch up?” She failed to come up with an answer immediately and Lord Sirap pushed on, “I am sure that Lord Osari had given you access to his private library?”

  “Yes Lord.”

  “And I suspect that you can read and write?”

  “Yes Lord.”

  He seemed to ponder for a moment. “Then I suggest that you start to catch up quickly girl. The rest of the class may be puzzled by your appearance now, but unless you can match them they will soon find you dead weight, if you excuse the pun.”

  “I understand Lord.” The last thing she wanted was to be another one of Gideon's statistics.

  His eyes narrowed and burned into hers, “You have the gift.”

  She nodded her head slowly, not knowing if it was safe to be discussing this with Lord Sirap. For all she knew he could be pumping her for information in order to get her eliminated from the class.

  As if he understood her silence he said, “I was fourth in my class. Lord Osari was my A1. We came up through the ranks together and I respect his actions. But bringing you into this particular class at this time could easily prove to be your death sentence. Are you sure that you are up to the challenge Alara Du Preeze?”

  Alara was shocked to hear her Arian surname. She’d never used it anywhere in the city, instead choosing to use several aliases in her previous life. Lord Sirap had volunteered useless information to her and she had no idea what his motives were, she nodded again.

  “Then I look forward to seeing you next time young Arian,” he said as he got up from his chair. “I believe that you are due in the gymnasium for knife throwing in three minutes.”

  Alara took the hint and ran from the room to try to catch up with her classmates. She had no time to process the new information, and tucked it away in her memory bank for later that night when she would have time to work through why Lord Sirap had shared his history with Lord Osari with her.

  Four:

  As she suspected her knife throwing skills were at best poor compared to the rest of the class, and she found herself dejected as she left the gymnasium. Lord Sirian had been her instructor and had embarrassed her with vicious comments as she missed target after target. The rest of the class seemed to find his comments highly amusing. Only Gideon and the white-haired boy called Black had failed to laugh at his jibes. They’d spent their time in the gym in a one-on-one throwing contest and ignored the rest of the class. Alara had spent her downtime watching the competition and it was difficult to say who was more adept with the blades. Gideon’s athleticism and grace was superior to Black’s, but the albino-haired assassin was far more muscular and powerful than Gideon. Blade after blade hit the centre of the target until each one of them had only one blade left. The last target was hovering on a ball that was suspended by an air curtain which moved the ball from side to side. The ball reminded Alara of the ships she had seen crossing the channel on a stormy day. Gideon bowed to Black in a condescending way and wrapped his black scarf around his eyes before he took the first shot; the blade flew through the air and caught the ball dead centre. It was a perfect hit, but the ball remained hanging in the air with Gideon’s knife protruding from the middle. Gideon removed the scarf, smiling triumphantly at Black, and gestured for him to go next. Without missing a beat Black sent his last blade flying at the target with such force that Alara swore that she could hear the air itself rip as the knife carved its way toward the target. The onlookers gasped as they watched the blade hit the hilt of Gideon's weapon and blasted both knives and the ball out of the air curtain, and onto the floor.

  Both boys looked at Lord Sirian for a judgement. “Point to each,” he said and the two combatants retraced their steps around the course and retrieved their knives. Alara had been pitted against the shaven-haired girl whose name was Lucinda. She was shorter than Alara and moved through the course with grace and poise. The girl reminded Alara of a gymnast as she bounced from target to target, throwing her blades with accuracy and determination. Once she’d finished she had a hit rate of eight out of ten and Lord Sirian had chastised her for missing the other two targets. Alara was next and by the time she had clumsily tripped her way around the course she had hit only one target, much to the delight of Lucinda who laughed boisterously and refused to shake Alara’s hand at the end of the match.

  After questioning some of the other members of the team, Alara found out that the gym was open to the apprentices on a twenty-four hour basis, and tasked herself to practice for at least three hours a day. She was a quick learner and felt confident that she could catch up on the theory side of her studies. A little use of the arts would make that a whole lot easier, but if she couldn’t throw a knife, she may as well run for the door now.

  The gym session proved to be the end of the official lessons for the day, and Alara was tired and in need of thinking space. A lot had happened throughout the day and it was important that she digested the information. She made her way back to the dorms, but stopped outside them and checked on the notice board to see what she would be up against tomorrow. She skipped past the academia studies, noting each in turn, until her eye found what she was looking for; another gym session with Lord Sirian. For some reason Lord Sirian’s derogatory comments about her lack of accuracy and general tardiness around the gym bit deeply into her pride, and she relished another battle with Lucinda. She may not beat the girl tomorrow, but she was sure that with a little practice tonight she could at least best her dismal performance of the day and earn some sort of respect from the group.

  It was seven pm and the mess only allowed apprentices eating privileges at nine, more than enough time to get some practice in. The dorm was busy at this time of night, but she was happy to see Lucinda and the other two girls weren’t in their bunks. She scanned the room for them but came up empty. Several boys were taking turns at hitting the practice target and Alara gritted her teeth and joined in the line. A few of the bigger boys tried to barge her out of the way, but she stood her ground and refused to let them bully her. As the line moved forwards she saw Gideon relaxing on his cot with his nose buried in a large, leather bound book. Black was lying on his back in the cot directly opposite Gideon’s, tossing a blade into the air and catching it nonchalantly. From the look on his face h
is thoughts were miles away from the present. His eyes had the slight glaze of an Artist at work. Alara had already scanned the barracks for signs of magic but came across the same wards that each of the classrooms and the gymnasium had. Whatever he was day dreaming about must have been serious, as his lip curled in a snarl every so often. He reminded Alara of a man that became a wolf at night that she’d once seen in a movie. Real wolves had been extinct for many years, they were hunted down and killed for their pelts in the old days, which had already put their numbers at risk, but the fallout from the ABC wars had killed off their natural prey, and the wolves had become nothing but a memory within three years of the war's ending.

  Alara was now facing the target and she felt nervous cramps grip into her stomach. She knew most of the class was now watching her and her first three attempts were as feeble as her previous attempts in the gym. The boy standing behind her was saying something to get Alara to hurry up and miss the other seven tries, but Alara blocked out his remonstrating and concentrated on the task at hand. Her next blade found the target, it wasn’t a perfect hit, but it was something. Her next attempt clattered to the floor. She closed her eyes and relaxed her neck, swivelling it from one side to the next, the bones and cartilage cracked into place and she felt more at peace.

  “Get on with it,” a boy shouted from the back of the room.