Chapter 36: Survival Trial

“Recruits,” Captain Lurron’s voice boomed through the woods, “It is time for your final trial. At the center of these woods is a cabin. Your mission is to arrive at the cabin without any of the sentries stopping you. You are allowed to try to fight your way through with your practice swords, but I don’t advise it.” He chuckled. “The goal is to get there as fast and quiet as you can, the first ten will get five merits each. Your guide should have pointed the way. We are watching. Begin!”

Ren’s guide had walked him into the middle of the woods, pointed east, and departed. Nothing to it but to go. He wasn’t remotely worried about the merits. At this point he’d just be glad to make it at all.

The ground was thick with crunchy snow. Even on a sunny day like today not much melted under the canopy. He played with his steps, trying to figure out if there was any way to avoid the crackling that each step made. No luck.

Ren picked two fixed points for reference. A tree with a knot that looked like a face behind him and a rock speckled with red lichen up ahead.

He made it to the rock, lined himself up with the tree behind him and set a new waypoint in the same direction. At least all those books he’d read had taught him something.

He kept going like this for an hour, weaving through gullies and swimming through bare branched foliage. His mind started to wander to thoughts he’d rather avoid. Sitara. Father. What was he going to tell the twins? Could he ever face them again.

CRUNCH

Ren dipped behind a tree. Nothing moved.

He waited, holding his breath. Brandishing his wooden sword. Not that it would do him much good with the way his hands shook. He couldn’t even blame the venom this time.

Still nothing.

Azeroth’s flaming horse cock.

Ren looked around. The sound seemed like it had come from up ahead and to the right. Behind a wall of shrubs.

He circled around to flank the location. His feet mostly sticking to ice crusted roots and rocks that had melted free of the snow.

Was that a clearing?

He took a deep breath and charged in, stumbling almost immediately to a halt. Parna.

Ren lowered his sword.

“Shit, you scared me.” Parna has on his usual grin. But something was off.

Ren’s sword rose once again, wavering in the air.

“I suppose the princeling told you then.” His smile grew wider, all mirth leaving it.

It was true? Ren’s breath grew shallow. “Why?”

“WHY!?” Parna roared, raising his own sword. “I’ve been betrayed a lot in my life. Comes with living on the streets. I just thought you were better than that, Ren. I thought we were better than all that. I came here to start over. To leave all that behind me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ren pleaded.

Parna’s lip curled and his eyes darkened. “Don’t play innocent now. I saw you with her!” He charged in, his attacks all flowed together. Ren barely blocked the first. The second hit his thigh. The third, his shoulder. The fourth snuck under his crossguard, smashing his fingers.

Ren yelped and dropped his sword backing up to the edge of a gulley. He looked back to see a big drop that ended in crimson flowers, rimmed in green. Thornbane.

He looked back just in time to see Parna’s foot connect with his chest—then he was falling. His skin ripped open on barbs as he tumbled to a stop.

“Don’t worry,” Parna called down to him. “I’ll have them come get you when it’s all over. Then we’re done. You may be an honorless snake, but we’re part of the same team. I won’t hold a grudge. We’re even now. But if you come at me, you won’t have another chance.”

Ren could already feel a tingling numbness spreading through his limbs. Was this all about Amhara? A girl who only bothered talking to him because he was so easy to embarrass. All of this over a girl he didn’t even have a chance with?

Everything he’d done, all he’d endured, just to end up here. Hopeless. A failure. And this time he wasn’t just failing himself. Tears pressed hot behind his eyes.

A glint on the slope—a polished bronze butterfly.

No. He couldn’t give up. Not yet. He hadn’t failed yet. Not until the trial was over.

His mind spun for an answer. A way forward. Thornbane toxin. At this rate he had maybe two minutes till full paralysis.

Wait. Maybe… Ren shifted his breathing, and began moving his Qi in a circle along his meridians looping and crossing through his kidneys in the pattern of the Blood Purification Wheel. The tingling eased a smidge and stopped its rapid spread. He couldn’t expel the toxin this way, but he could buy time.

Ren crawled out from under the bushes, shying away from the barbs that grabbed his cloak.

Thornbane… it was a neurotoxin used for anesthesia sometimes. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was sometimes a need to negate it prematurely. Yes. He remembered because He’d almost skipped the chapters about herb gathering and classification and processing, thinking the sections on trauma and urgent care would be more relevant for a medic.

What was it? What was the antidote? Thornbane root and…

Salvinia Agorum! That was it. But did that even grow this up in the foothills? Probably not.

But Cryptocia Rubroncta, the local red lichen, was often used as a stand-in. Worth a shot. Worst case, he’d poison himself more.

Ren was shocked to find himself stifling a chuckle. He must be going mad. Wait—shit—his breathing. He stabilized his breath and resumed the blood purification wheel.

Unsheathing his standard issue knife, Ren dug into the earth beneath the nearest bush. It was frozen hard, and he got pricked a few more times as he hacked open the ground, but soon he had a chunk of root. Now he just needed to get out of the gulley to find that lichen.

His legs were almost useless by now. He pulled himself up the slope, snow balling up in front of him then sneaking down his shirt as he dragged across it. At least he was already pretty numb.

His breathing pattern had given way to panting by the time he got up, and the toxin started spreading again. But he saw a ruddy red speckled rock and made it over, agonizing pull by agonizing pull. His knife did the hard part of scraping the red crust off the rock. Shit, he didn’t have a fire or any way to process the ingredient.

Fuck it.

Ren took a bitter bite of root and poured the flakes of lichen in with it. He chewed as much as he could, till it was fine mush and had started to break down in his saliva.

His stomach immediately protested, but this time his body listened, and he kept the gorge down.

Maybe he could help the process along? Ren changed his breathing again, this time repeating what he’d done with the bone broth. Pushing the growing heat in his gut out toward the tingling in his muscles and skin.

The sun was high now, but the tingling finally started to subside.

Demon spawn bastard of Hurash the Guiding Flame—It worked!

Ren might have failed in the other two trials. He might yet fail this one. But the moon would crash into the sea before he gave up on his family when there was still a chance.

He looked around the clearing for his sword. Of course Parna had taken it.

Ren sheathed his knife and followed Parna’s tracks. He’d bet anything Parna had pulled strings with a guide to give him an edge, which meant he probably knew the best way to get to the cabin.

#

Sometimes hope could be worse than any poison. Ren’s limbs had been paralyzed, his dantian torn apart, his life stripped away till barely a thread remained. But no cure or treatment had brought him as much relief as abandoning his last thread of dreaming that things would work out.

Afterall, what chance did he have now? The failure he so feared had already happened. Not to mention, the betrayal and rejection by his only real friend here. Now he’d be stuck with the regulars making five dham a day—barely enough to pay the living expenses for his family, not even enough to cover the interest on the loan, let alone pay it off.

Yet somehow his steps felt lighter now. Maybe it was just that there wasn’t any pressure without hope? And his feet kept moving forward. Why?

Because fuck them all, may they all burn to ash. This whole country was broken. Treated him like trash just for the shape of his eyes. No matter how hard he tried. An image flashed to his mind again. That trap he’d built in the alley back in Katarn. If he just used his mind, bided his time, he’d have his chance at redemption, at justice, at revenge.

He tucked that last thought away deep. His parents certainly wouldn’t approve. But he’d been living by their rules his whole life. Where had it gotten him? Something cold and dark writhed around his dantian.

Ren pushed his awareness down to his abdomen. The containment formation was still intact. He sighed in relief.

“I’m telling you, it’s this way.” A reedy, overconfident voice.

Ren crouched and ducked behind a tree. Birds were chirping, something was digging in the earth. He slowed his breathing—he just needed to be quieter than the animals.

Kareem and four other recruits crossed the trail Ren had been following, snapping loose twigs and shlucking their boots where snow had melted into mud. Idiots.

“Look! Tracks. We should follow these, right?” said one of the others.

“Fool,” spat the idiot. “These are definitely tracks of one of the sentries.”

Ren’s palm itched for his practice blade. He might not be cut out for real swordplay, but a dark part of him ached to charge them and really ruin their day.

“No, Kareem. He’s right. Look at the boot prints. These are the same as ours. I’ve seen the examiners for the trials. They all wear custom boots. Besides, look where the sun is headed now that it’s setting.” The group peered up through a gap in the canopy.

Ren took his chance and slid out from behind the tree. He moved from one shadow to another. It wasn’t so different from the alleys. Only he was hiding behind foliage rather than piles of trash.

“Fine,” Kareem conceded. “We’ll follow the tracks.”

Dog-Fucker. Ren was going to have to find his own way. He couldn’t risk running into them alone in the woods no matter how much the hatred in him screamed to fight.

Or maybe… Yes. Ren smiled and followed the loud boys. He kept his distance and minimized the sound of his passage, sometimes circling around the track when the shrubs pushed in too close.

He tried not to listen to their conversation, the constant bragging, the stupid dick measuring about every little thing. Competitions that everyone obviously let Kareem win in the end. He didn’t care about how Kareem’s sword tutor had fought against the Parvethi in the war for the golden sea lane before the Rising of the Deep.

He looked up at the branches above him. How much easier would this be if he could just jump from tree to tree like one of the empyrean rangers of old.

Now wasn’t the time for daydreaming though.

The sun began its descent, splashing gold onto the faces of the cloud.

Then, it finally happened.

“Halt!” shouted someone up ahead. A woman with a deep voice.

“Shit, it’s two sentries!”

“Attack them! Before they call for help. One’s a girl, we’ve got this!”

Snow slushed, mud squelched and wood thunked as a battle began.

Ren smiled—and ran. He circled wide enough that he might not be seen, but his goal was speed, he couldn’t risk waiting for reinforcements.

“Hey, who’s tha—ouch.” One of the recruits yelped.

Ren kept on running. He was close.

He hurtled and ducked and slid through the trees, not looking back, not stopping to think.

“Hey! Halt!” Another sentry somewhere off to the right.

Ren didn’t even slow down. It wasn’t worth trying to hide, his tracks in the snow would give him away. So the only option was speed.

He ran and ran, past the stitch in his side, past the burn of his lungs, past the stupid little voice telling him to give up.

The light had all but bled from the sky when he burst from the trees into a clearing.

A cabin. Simple, unadorned, but also the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day.

Sprinting for the door, he wondered if he’d get docked for leading his pursuer back? It hadn’t been one of the stipulations. Too late to worry now anyway. He skidded to a stop at the door and tried it. Locked.

Ren raised a fist to slam on the rough wood, but it opened.

“Name?” said a surly bearded soldier.

“Ren.” He panted out the word.

“Congratulations Recruit Ren, You are number seventeen.”

He made it! Not fast enough for merits probably, but still.

Ren cast a glance over his shoulder as he stepped inside. The sentry was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d outrun him after all.

His clothes clung to his body soaked with sweat. As he adjusted them he felt the pin press into his leg. He’d made it. This was good. A win. But it didn’t change anything.

Ren’s gut soured. He needed to sit down.

#

Once again, Captain Lurron had an unwanted guest. But unlike with the councilman, he’d had no idea that Scout Captain Azam of the irregulars would be joining him.

The Scout Captain stood the same height as Lurron, but much leaner. His hair was too long—pulled back in a tail. That travesty of a uniform was the wrong color for his rank and division. His posture was entirely too relaxed. The only things about him that were not slipshod to the point of disrespect were his finely groomed mustache and his hawkish eyes.

Normally Lurron could have refused access to the man, as they were technically the same rank, but Azam’s division was responsible for the surveillance scripts that allowed them to monitor the survival trials from the command building.

If he was here, it only meant one thing. He was recruiting. And that meant the council had approved the expansion of the irregulars. It all led inevitably to one conclusion: war. Not just the small skirmishes with the northern tribes raiding their trade delegations and testing their defenses—something bigger loomed.

“Tell me about that recruit,” said Azam, pointing to a display of a recruit dragging himself out of a gully. Straight to business then.

“Recruit Ren. Has an indentured family in Katarn. Signed on for the family medical benefits, for which he received a special contract since he is currently nameless.”

“And they say you don’t have a heart, Lurron.” The way his grin was somehow sincere without losing any of its mockery was infuriating. “I see even you bend the rules. He one of your special projects?”

The Captain scowled and continued, “He’s had a shaky performance since he got here, but Lady Melfina has taken some interest in him. She says he has pretty good Qi sensitivity.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get too excited, Scout Captain.”

“It’s okay, you can call me by my name, Lurron. We’ve known each other long enough for that I think.” The bastard winked.

“You can spit on protocol, but that doesn’t mean I have to!” Lurron realized he was nearly shouting. A vein pulse palpably in his neck and his fists clenched. The examiners monitoring the other displays looked. Bleeding light, he shouldn’t let Azam get to him like this. He exhaled hard and relaxed his hands, forcibly returning his tone to neutral. “Recruit Ren started out decently in the Melee, solid teamwork, but doesn’t seem to have the stomach for real combat. Froze up once he was alone after injuring his first opponent. Got spanked all over the ring in the first duel. Examiners said he was shaking too badly to even pick up a sword for his second duel.”

Azam turned back to the display, stroking his mustache, smile gone. “Tell me, Captain Lurron, was it you who taught him to counteract thornbane toxin?”

“What?” Lurron looked back at the display. “How?”

“I take that as a no.”

After a time, Lurron went back to his duties, checking in on the other displays.

He glanced back at Azam, whose smile was slowly growing, eyes hungry and intent.

“Resourceful little bugger,” said the Scout Captain, glancing over. “Offer him a spot in the scouts.”

“I can’t do that Azam.” Damn. “I mean- Scout Captain.” There it was, the mocking grin again. “I can’t put a recruit who can’t stomach a fight in a combat role.”

“What about as a forester?”

“Even they back up the advanced scouts sometimes. He’d be a liability to his unit. It wouldn’t even be a favor to him.”

From the look on Azam’s face he wasn’t going to back down easy. Lurron rubbed his temples. This damn man always found a way to give him a headache.