Page 87 of Fires of the Forsaken
And if my life were a movie, this would’ve been the training montage section. Music would have been blaring (preferably 80s pop) as I worked with the group and got stronger and faster. Eventually, I’d reach some pinnacle (like darting up the steps to Philadelphia’s Art Museum) and,voila:fully trained soldier.
If only it were that easy.
Instead, I endured hours of long, grueling training sessions that displayed how much I sucked at life. I wasn’t getting better. Sometimes I swore I was getting worse. And my clock was a tickin’—only five days left. Five days to either shape up or ship out.
My stomach churned.
Well, my appetite was definitely out the window now.
“Are we sending soldiers to Jabbart?” Moira’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
“No,” Braxton said. “Maddox is sending them.”
“But Sanadrin is farther.” Moira’s brow furrowed.
“Aye, but they have twice the riders we do.” Braxton tended to wave his spoon (or whatever he had in his hand) when he spoke. I was used to having my arm sprayed with bits of his food. “And,” he added, flinging a glob of porridge onto my wrist, “there’s an element of surprise. Seruf won’ be expecting the riders to come from Sanadrin, will she?” He tapped the spoon against his temple and smirked.
“Seruf?” I asked.
“The Firestarter,” Belanna supplied before she jumped into the conversation. “And have ye seen Gerty with a bow? If Seruf’s there, and unexpectin’ of the riders coming from that direction, Gerty’ll get her.”
The most frustrating thing about being in a new world? Trying to figure out who’s-who and what’s-what. It was like building a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle while someone handed you one piece at a time.
But I’d gotten the outer edges assembled.
This place, Sakar, had four countries. Possibly five—they sometimes mentioned a place called Vatra, but they’d all clam up whenever I asked about it. So Vatra was either enemy territory or a country they’d lost. Like Bafrus, which they also didn’t talk about much.
Sanadrin was the capital city of Victarion (and I’d laughed for a solid five minutes after hearing that name), our closest neighbor. Maddox was the leader there.
Jabbart was a city in a country called Marach. Two days ago, we’d received news it was under attack. That bombshell had come during breakfast. And, while everyone had looked horrified, Belanna had gone pasty white and bolted out of the room.
“Is she okay?” I’d asked.
Garvin had nodded, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “Reminds her of what happened at Cynerik, don’t it?”
Braxton had sighed and plopped his slice of bread onto the table. “We didn’ get warning.”
Belanna had managed to put up the façade of her normal cheery self when she arrived at the training session. Braxton had remained glum and distant.
“Have ye heard about Muirin?” Garvin’s whisper pulled me back to the present.
“Aye,” Braxton said.
Belanna sniffed. “I’ve heard rumors. No animal has provided confirmation. Don’t be getting yer hopes up.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’d rather wenotdiscuss unproven speculation.”
All six of us jumped when Cheriour spoke.
He sat at the end of the table, silently eating his bug guts. The dude was like a Ninja; he never made a freaking sound. I hadn’t even known he was there.
Cheriour pushed himself away from the table, picking up his empty bowl. “The sun is almost up,” he said. “I know the recent news has been grim, but it has not affected the time of my training.”
“Ach, the sun’s barely awake!” Belanna said.
At the same time, Braxton declared, “We’re not late yet.” He waved his spoon, splattering a blob of porridge over my face. “Sorry,” he chuckled, reaching over to help me wipe the food away.
