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From the Mountain Page 5
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Page 5
The horn blares, a jolt that echoes through the thin walls of our dormitory. We automatically throw open the doors and race into the halls. Our feet match each other’s in perfect precision, just as we have been trained. We don’t need to think about our positions – we have fought hard for them.
Glendon is first, me second, and Pride third. Twenty-two others are behind us as we march in unison, Glendon setting the pace. The rhythm of our footsteps sings to us like a lullaby, even though that is the last thing any of us have heard in years. I fall into place behind him silently, two ivory handled knives at my waist and my bow slung over my shoulder. My quiver of arrows is perched comfortably on my back. An empty sheath is anchored to my belt…to all of ours. We haven’t earned our swords yet. All of us are more than aware that only three of the sheaths will ever hold a ruby handled sword – those of Lord Gareth’s elite guard.
We blast through the front doors and Glendon steps up the pace. We keep time with him, as we always do. He is tall and lean, just as I am. But he has dark black hair, a slightly hooked nose and black eyes that appear to be hard, unfeeling. And his skin, like all the others is dark.
Pride is in perfect step behind me. She is small and petite, and it has always been difficult for her short legs to keep time with Glendon’s and mine. But she manages it somehow. I respect her for that. But it doesn’t go any further. She hates me. And I hate them all.
Reese is fifth in the pack. He has made it to the finals. But just barely. I smirk to myself thinking of his empty armband. Glendon has three purple stripes sewn to the armband of his red jumpsuit. I have two, and Pride has one.
Glendon leads us out onto the field. Thump. Thump. Left. Right. Our boots hit the soft grass as the aroma of salty ocean air teases my nostrils. We line up in front of a wall of targets, stopping at once. We spread our feet apart and stand at alert, waiting for a signal, motionless statues. We are one and yet we are none.
It is a Friday, and the massive field is empty. After today two things will happen. Five of us will be chosen to compete for Soldier Academy, and ten others will become simple guards. Anyone behind Reese knows this, but desperately hopes for a chance today…for one of us to mess up so a slot will open, a rare opportunity to take our place at the final competition tomorrow. And a chance to have a gleaming sword placed in an empty sheath.
It is our last day of Weapons Training School. We are all sixteen years old and have trained together since the Purification Law passed and the Final War began…when I was six years old. Those of us who had parents with money, power, or influence were immediately funneled away to Weapons Training School. I suppose their thinking was that we would be safe here. But they were wrong. I have been anything but safe. I am one of the only Light Skins left in the city, perhaps even in the world, and it haunts me every second of my life.
After the competition three of us will walk away with swords. One gold, one silver, and one bronze, and of course the handle of each sword will be pure ruby…the color of blood. They will fit perfectly into the empty sheaths on our belts.
At this point, I know two things to be true; I am sure I will make the top three and someone will place a sword in my sheath. I also know with every fiber of my being that it is the last thing I want.
Chapter 1
Glendon is first, me second, and Pride third. Twenty-two others are behind us as we march in unison, Glendon setting the pace. The rhythm of our footsteps sings to us like a lullaby, even though that is the last thing any of us have heard in years. I fall into place behind him silently, two ivory handled knives at my waist and my bow slung over my shoulder. My quiver of arrows is perched comfortably on my back. An empty sheath is anchored to my belt…to all of ours. We haven’t earned our swords yet. All of us are more than aware that only three of the sheaths will ever hold a ruby handled sword – those of Lord Gareth’s elite guard.
We blast through the front doors and Glendon steps up the pace. We keep time with him, as we always do. He is tall and lean, just as I am. But he has dark black hair, a slightly hooked nose and black eyes that appear to be hard, unfeeling. And his skin, like all the others is dark.
Pride is in perfect step behind me. She is small and petite, and it has always been difficult for her short legs to keep time with Glendon’s and mine. But she manages it somehow. I respect her for that. But it doesn’t go any further. She hates me. And I hate them all.
Reese is fifth in the pack. He has made it to the finals. But just barely. I smirk to myself thinking of his empty armband. Glendon has three purple stripes sewn to the armband of his red jumpsuit. I have two, and Pride has one.
Glendon leads us out onto the field. Thump. Thump. Left. Right. Our boots hit the soft grass as the aroma of salty ocean air teases my nostrils. We line up in front of a wall of targets, stopping at once. We spread our feet apart and stand at alert, waiting for a signal, motionless statues. We are one and yet we are none.
It is a Friday, and the massive field is empty. After today two things will happen. Five of us will be chosen to compete for Soldier Academy, and ten others will become simple guards. Anyone behind Reese knows this, but desperately hopes for a chance today…for one of us to mess up so a slot will open, a rare opportunity to take our place at the final competition tomorrow. And a chance to have a gleaming sword placed in an empty sheath.
It is our last day of Weapons Training School. We are all sixteen years old and have trained together since the Purification Law passed and the Final War began…when I was six years old. Those of us who had parents with money, power, or influence were immediately funneled away to Weapons Training School. I suppose their thinking was that we would be safe here. But they were wrong. I have been anything but safe. I am one of the only Light Skins left in the city, perhaps even in the world, and it haunts me every second of my life.
After the competition three of us will walk away with swords. One gold, one silver, and one bronze, and of course the handle of each sword will be pure ruby…the color of blood. They will fit perfectly into the empty sheaths on our belts.
At this point, I know two things to be true; I am sure I will make the top three and someone will place a sword in my sheath. I also know with every fiber of my being that it is the last thing I want.
Chapter 1