Page 76 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“I take your pomegranate seeds. What do you do? Fight me for it? Or go for easier pickings, reach for more, just as ripe and sweet, from the bowl in front of you?”
I sighed. This had to be a trick question. “I’d reach for the bowl.”
Rhyan’s good eyebrow lifted. “Exactly. That’s what an akadim would do, too. Reach for more, reach for whatever’s easiest. What you have to remember is that for them, the world is their bowl, and the supply is endless. If you stop to care for someone and let the akadim run, if you let it go, it will find someone else. It will kill someone else. Or worse. And after it kills—or Gods forbid, has made them forsaken, turning them into an akadim—where are you? Still with your loved one, safe for now. But what can the akadim do after it’s eaten? It can go find another victim. And another. And make more forsaken who become more akadim. So, what did you do? Who did you save?”
“The person I love.”
“And in doing so, you condemned countless others to death. And maybe even your loved one, should that akadim or one of its creations come your way again.”
I shook my head. “That’s a ridiculous expectation to put on us. What if someone else kills the akadim?”
Rhyan shook his head. “What if they don’t? That is our way of life. I know you don’t see it that way. You weren’t taught or prepared. You were training to be a mage. I get it. But this is the first rule of being a soturion. Our oath says, ‘if I should love those whom I’ve sworn not to.’” His gaze was so intense I blinked. “We swear not to love or care for our fellow soturi beyond the link that keeps us at peace, or offers strength, in order to be prepared. If you see a fellow soturion taken down—even if it was your best friend, your kashonim—you don’t hesitate. You go after the akadim. You kill the akadim. And you save the life of every person it would kill or turn. If you come upon one, no matter what’s happening or who’s affected, it’s your duty to bring its end.”
“That seems…like such a ridiculous burden to put on a person.”
Rhyan sighed. “It is. But to be a soturion, you have to shoulder the burden. The first rule is this: you stop the threat.”
“I stop the threat,” I repeated dully.
“And how do you stop the threat?”
My head hurt, trying to process the logic and fear of what this life meant. I threw my hands up. “I fight him?”
“The first rule is to stop the threat,” he said. “The second, akadim are weapons. Their bodies are designed to kill. But you must reach for your sword. It puts you at a disadvantage.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, it does.”
“No, it puts every soturion at a disadvantage. This is why you train your body to be a weapon. All right? We’re going to increase your strength and your stamina. Now reach your arms overhead. We’ll begin with the One Hundred and Eight Postures of the Valya.”
For a moment I stared, dumbfounded. One hundred and eight?
“Rule number three,” he said. “You follow orders. Every single time. It keeps you safe.”
“Fine.”
“You stop the threat,” Rhyan said. “Rule number one. Rule number two, the akadim are a living weapon. None but the soturi stand a chance against it. And to be prepared, rule number three, you always follow the chain of command. Arkturion, turion, soturion, apprentice,” he pointed to himself, and then to me, “novice. Now reach overhead.”
I did.
Rhyan instructed me to stretch and bend forward, again and again until I could touch my toes. He told me to jump, run in place, and hold myself up in a plank when I failed to do a single push up. For hours he gave orders, pushing me through each of the 108 Postures of Valya.
Rhyan was relentless, pushing me, correcting my form, practicing every posture and position perfectly beside me. The final hour rang through the Katurium, and through the window, I could see the ashvan taking flight, blue streaks trailing behind them. The Academy’s first official day was over. The halls filled with the sound of students talking excitedly and doors opening and closing. But Rhyan didn’t seem remotely close to dismissing me.
I collapsed in a sweaty heap on the mats.
He gracefully sat beside me before he lowered himself to his back, crossing his legs and pulling them in toward his chest. He’d done every single thing I had today…more, because the apprentices trained with each other in the morning while the novices were in lecture. He’d barely broken a sweat.
“I can’t move,” I said.
“Take a break.”
I glared at him from the corner of my eye, my muscles jelly, arms flopping out on either side of me. “I was hoping you’d say take the rest of the day off.” I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to get up. Forget my apartment, I lived here now. On this mat. This was my new home.
“Just some easy stretching, I promise,” he said. “You don’t have to stand anymore…but you do have to sit up.”
“Easy stretching?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m really starting to doubt your understanding of the word.”
He released his legs, rolled onto his side to face me, and propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand. “Are you going to challenge me on the connotation of every word I use?” he asked, lips quirked.
