The Rose Mark: Black Rose Sorceress, Book 1 Page 3

  Tera was about to burst with the question of how we'd be tested, but knew better than to talk. The others filed out after the leaders; seconds and thirds would be last. I made sure to be at the end of the seconds, and the thirds followed me.

  K erok

  I could see it in their eyes the moment they walked onto the training ground; these young women thought we'd be watching from the stands.

  Instead, we waited for them to form four lines of six each at the Bulldog's command.

  Perhaps thirty yards separated us. I stood near the back, although my men had spread out so I could easily see everything.

  The Bulldog wasn't capable of testing shields—it required someone with talent to do that. Someone with enough talent to temper their blasts against an untried trainee's shields.

  Like Merrin, I'd once enjoyed this.

  Already, I could see the Bulldog's favorites—they stood first in line, waiting to be tested. Six years earlier, I'd seen other favorites from the Bulldog's cohort. She hadn't changed for the better in that time; anyone with any sense could see that.

  The men I'd brought with me would test the trainees—with stronger blasts each time, until the shield was breached. They knew to gauge the distance carefully, so as not to cause harm to the trainee. I nodded to the Bulldog, letting her know we were ready to begin.

  "Veri," the Bulldog barked, "Up first. Make a shield."

  Veri walked half the distance between her and the warrior who'd stepped forward, before putting up her hands in the proper stance. It didn't surprise me that the Bulldog had coached her favorites ahead of time. In this it didn't matter—at least the others coming after them would know what was expected.

  The warrior hurled his first blast, which bounced against Veri's soft, weak shield before dropping to the ground and fizzling out.

  "Do better," the Bulldog shouted. Veri strengthened her stance before the warrior launched a second blow. This once bounced better, but the shield still bent. On his third try, the warrior broke the trainee's shield.

  "Not bad for a first-timer," Merrin said softly at my shoulder. I guessed then that Veri was one of the two he had his eye on.

  "Ura," the Bulldog snapped as Veri walked to the back of the line and the others moved forward one spot.

  Another warrior launched a blast at Ura's shield. Her first held up better than Veri's had. "Nice," Merrin breathed. It took four tries before Ura's shield broke.

  I watched carefully as each of my men stepped forward to test a trainee's shield. There was only one I was truly interested in, however. I waited for her to reach the first position.

  Sherra

  "Sherra," the Bulldog called out, after a dismal showing from the other second-tries. One of those had broken down at the first blast launched at her. With tears streaming down her face, she strode, head down, to the back of the line.

  It made me angry that some of the warriors and at least two of the trainees snickered at her tears.

  I walked forward, fury burning my heart.

  "I'll take this one," I heard a warrior's voice from somewhere in the back of the pack. I didn't care who it was. I intended to put out a full effort on this one. None of the trainees had lasted longer than Ura's four tries.

  I was determined to do better. To make the Bulldog and every fucking warrior there sit up and notice the seconds and thirds.

  Fuck them.

  Fuck all of them.

  I put up my hands, as the others had done, although I didn't need that bit of show to create a shield.

  He stepped forward confidently while I glared at him. He wore a deep scar on his face; I didn't care that he'd been wounded in battle. Perhaps he thought me weak, just as the Bulldog and the others did.

  "Whenever you're ready, Commander Kerok," the Bulldog dipped her head as he took his stance.

  Commander?

  Even better.

  Come on, jackass, I mentally goaded him.

  In a blink he launched a blast my way. It hit my shield so hard it exploded with a boom and a flash of fiery stars.

  Almost before I could blink, he'd launched another, and another, each harder than the last.

  Six blasts.

  Seven.

  Nine.

  Fifteen.

  Come on, jackass, I can go all day, I mentally taunted.

  "Enough," he held up a hand and walked toward me. I released my shield. Yards away, the Bulldog stood with her mouth hanging open.

  When he stopped in front of me, Commander Kerok nodded and said, "Well done, trainee." It's never wise to call the Commander a jackass, breathed into my mind before he turned away.

  K erok

  "I'll set it up and you can lob blasts at her," I said when Merrin took the chair, looking as if he were ready to pop like a shaken bottle of wine.

  "No, no," he held up a hand. "I felt the backwash of power on that last one. No thank you," he said.

  "Did you lose money again?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  "You really ought to stop betting. It's costing too much." I shuffled things on my desk; my way of telling him he needed to leave. He ignored it. I lifted a letter from my father and began to read, attempting to shut him out.

  "I took your example and bet on the thirds, though. I won on them."

  "Nobody thought they'd get a shield up to begin with?" I lifted my eyes and locked gazes with him, then.

  "Yes. It's really odd, too. Under normal circumstances, I would have bet against them. What are you going to do about the girl?"

  "What do you mean?" I stopped reading my father's letter for a moment.

  "Well, it's obvious she's been holding back," Merrin began.

  "Hold on," I said and pulled a sheet of blank paper from a stack. I scribbled a hasty message on it and folded it before handing it to Merrin. "Take that to the Bulldog."

  "What does it say?"

  "It says if she punishes the girl, I'll punish her."

  One of Merrin's eyebrows rose to a new height. "It will be done," he said and left my office in a blur.

  Sherra

  As expected, the Bulldog didn't appreciate a trainee holding back. Her crop was in her hand as she paced back and forth in front of the bench where I sat. I considered blasting her to a crisp again, but that was merely a favorite fantasy.

  The other trainees knew what was coming, too. The Bulldog's chosen were giggling about it, and she hadn't called them out.

  If the Bulldog thought I hadn't received bitter humiliation before, she was mistaken. My father had taken his frustrations out on me many times. In this, I merely waited to see what form it would take.

  That's when a warrior walked into the barracks, a paper note in his hand. With an angry scowl, the Bulldog lifted it from his fingers.

  He waited while she read it, and the color drained from her face. With a furious grunt, she shoved the note back in the warrior's hands and stalked from the barracks. The door slammed shut behind her.

  "Sorry," the warrior didn't bother to hide his grin. "There'll be no entertainment tonight, Commander's orders." With that, he left, too.

  I went still. The Commander knew she'd punish me in some way and had stopped it.

  Why?

  How had he heard my thoughts?

  I'd called him a jackass. That thought made my cheeks burn.

  Thank you, I said, hoping he'd hear my words. At least I wouldn't have a sore back or legs in the morning, from running, carrying and climbing, or whatever the Bulldog planned for me to do the entire night as punishment for holding back.

  Instead, I slept and felt refreshed when we were called to exercise in the morning.

  K erok

  I allowed her words and her gratitude to soak into my mind like parched ground absorbing rainwater. Even Grae had never had that connection with me. It took more talent than most black-rose trainees possessed.

  I didn't say anything in return, however. The Bulldog had her pets. I refused to single anyone out this early in their training. It
could cause them more grief than it was worth.

  CHAPTER 3

  Sherra

  That night, after lights out, I had four at my bedside instead of three. The trainee who'd wept at her failure came, too.

  I put up my shield and went to work, touching fingers to each one in turn, showing them while we were touching how I built and strengthened my shield.

  "In my mind, I see it as a wall of fire, keeping everything out," I whispered as the image appeared in each of their minds. "Take the fire you created on your first day or two, and feed it until it is an inferno that will burn anything thrown at it."

  "I see it." Jae, the one who'd wept, had a fire in her eyes that night; I could see it myself.

  When we were done, I had only a few hours of sleep, but I felt better about the four I'd stayed awake to teach.

  Jae outclassed many of the firsts on our second day of shield training.

  This time, Commander Kerok was missing from the complement of warriors who'd arrived to test us again. Captain Merrin took me on that day, and he hit me with twenty blasts before stepping back and dipping his head to me.

  The best anyone else could do was eight, and Ura did that.

  The Bulldog didn't hide her anger, either; her mouth was a grim, straight slash across her face as she watched me defend myself. It didn't take long for me to realize that somehow, she would get back at me. I'd caused her embarrassment before her trainees, and she would never allow me to forget it.

  Because the Commander sent a note.

  Perhaps he should have left it alone and allowed the punishment; I'd been prepared for it. His desire to protect me from a vindictive instructor would only cause me trouble later. I wondered where he was, but shut that thought down immediately.

  "I heard some of the laundry drudges gossiping earlier. They said six from another training group were sentenced to drudgery," Wend whispered at evening mess. Jae sat beside her, listening quietly while Wend spoke.

  I lifted my head to stare at her across the narrow, plank table. "What?" I began.

  "They washed out in shielding class. They have to serve the instructors or do menial work in the camps or on the battlefield, now. Their rose will be obliterated by black ink. Haven't you ever seen the Bulldog's wrist?" Wend hissed.

  My eyes widened as the truth hit me. We were being trained by those who'd never made it through their own training.

  Now I wanted to spit on The Book of the Rose and then burn it. I kept my words behind my teeth. They were blasphemy, and that could get me beheaded.

  Like a mother hen, I wanted to gather those other chicks to my nightly training sessions, but that could never be. With a sigh, I allowed my shoulders to slump. "At least they'll be safe enough in the long term," I said.

  "Yeah, but I heard they were all crying about it anyway," Wend said. "It means they'll never get to—you know."

  "What?" I failed to understand what she meant.

  "Have children. Get married, you know—be with a man."

  I considered telling her that living without a man might not be the worst thing I could think of, but she was clearly upset by it, so I kept my mouth closed on the subject. "I think that's what's wrong with the Bulldog," Wend lowered her head and her voice to impart that bit of speculation.

  Jae stifled a laugh.

  Tera elbowed Jae, but she struggled to hide a grin, while Misten pretended to drop something so she could duck her head.

  "Anything wrong?"

  The Bulldog appeared at our table as if she'd been called.

  "No, Lady," I said.

  The downward curve of thin lips told me she failed to accept my words as truth. Narrowing, anger-filled eyes promised trouble to come, however.

  For me.

  Her shoulders squared above her stocky body as she strode away, fury stiffening every step. I considered that the Bulldog's disposition had soured long before my arrival, and the Commander's note had only stirred the stench of it.

  K erok

  "I've had word from Hunter," I told Merrin as he stepped up beside me on my way to the evening meal. "Fourteen vehicles were captured, and they have none available to shield them and take them to the King's City."

  "What do you intend to do?" Merrin allowed his curiosity free rein.

  "I've offered to take some of mine, here, along with a few escort trainees to shield the vehicles so they can be driven away from the battlefield."

  "Do you have your choices made already?"

  "Yes—I worked on that earlier. They'll be notified tomorrow."

  "Is Ura one of your choices?"

  "No—she is on a par with one or two others, and I dislike taking one of the Bulldog's favorites—her favoritism annoys me greatly, and I admit I should have done something about it six years ago when I witnessed it the first time."

  "I'd like to see Ura tested in the field, Commander," Merrin breathed.

  "Why?"

  "To see whether she is as good as the Bulldog believes."

  "What do you think?"

  "I think she's better than you think."

  "File a proper written request, and I'll consider it," I said.

  "I'll have it on your desk before lights out."

  Sherra

  The following morning, after training exercises, we had new classes to attend and a new instructor, who ignored the Bulldog standing in a corner of our classroom before clearing his throat and announcing his purpose.

  Yes, it was a male instructor instead of a female one, as we'd had in all our other lessons.

  "I am here to teach you the geography of our land, such as it is, and some history of it," he announced. "I am warrior Geb, retired from the army, as you may imagine from the color of my hair."

  He was right—his hair was iron gray and thin atop his head. I had no way to guess his age, however, although my book said their power enabled warriors to live beyond the years allotted to a common man.

  It said nothing about the years allotted to those who bore the rose mark. We died early and young, in my estimation, so there were none who'd retired bearing the rose tattoo.

  "This is our land," he held out both hands, forming an image that hung in midair beside him. I heard a few gasps around the classroom—they hadn't known this was possible.

  My book had described the talent, but not how to perform it. I watched warrior Geb closely, hoping to learn something of it from him. He quickly drew our attention to the map instead.

  "Here is where we are—in this valley," he pointed out our location on the map. "You see the mountains here," he pointed out the mountains to the north and west of us. A dense forest lay to the west, and several lakes who owed their existence to winter snows.

  Water for several villages and our training camp came from those lakes, but as they were finite sources, the villages were forced to use it sparingly. Most of the water went to crop production to feed us.

  "You see here," Geb pointed far to the north, "The peninsula formed six centuries ago by the End-War."

  The End-War. Not much was taught about it. We only knew that what happened then changed everything. Crippled everything.

  Destroyed almost everything.

  What remained was now underwater or a poisonous desert—except for a few areas. Ours had survived, because someone with power had stood against the End-War and saved what they could.

  None recall who that was. Perhaps there was more than one, and their names were lost through the years. It could be that the King knew, and kept the information to himself.

  "Now, here is the continent we are a part of," Geb enlarged the map. It was easy to see the vast desert that covered most of the center part of it, with a wide split down most of the middle.

  That split was a great river that had become saltwater instead of fresh after the End-War. As a result, the upper continent resembled two broken, sandy mud pies made by a child. Far to the south, that continent was separated from another by a wide stretch of water. Pottles always said that both had bee
n joined together before the End-War. Now they were isolated, and rough edges separated the lands of both from the water surrounding them, as if they had been hacked haphazardly by an uncaring hand.

  "See, to our south," Geb's map enlarged and moved again, "There is more desert and waters cutting us off from a lower continent. Word has it that this continent is much smaller than it once was and islands have formed about it, which were tall mountains long ago."

  Pottles told me once that the world had drowned in war and water, and there was little to be done about either. "For the enemy," she'd added, "War is their only reason to live. Without it, they are empty. Nothing. Hate keeps them alive."

  "Hate?" I'd asked her.

  "Their hatred for us. They believe they will not have a comfortable afterlife if they fail to kill as many of us as they can."

  "The war is about an afterlife?" I was confused.

  "It's what they believe. Sometimes, that is the hardest war to fight."

  "The End-War destroyed other continents across the waters," Geb's voice brought me back from my memories. "What land remains there is poisoned and unlivable. If we could find our way there, it would only be to die."

  "How was it destroyed?" Ura raised her hand. My eyes cut to the Bulldog; a smug half-smile stretched her thin mouth. She'd planted the question—I could see it easily.

  "That is a very good question, trainee," Geb nodded at Ura. "Long ago, dreadful weapons existed, that could cause destruction of land as well as lives. Much was lost in the End-War, and there are no written records of how much was destroyed. An extreme and terrible winter followed, then came the rising waters and what we have now—an enemy who gathers here," he pointed toward the northeast of our twin mud-pie continent. "They bring their war machines across the wide desert," he mapped a trail with his hand to the southwestern edge, where we were.