Page 4 of The Gods Veiling
I jump to my feet despite the throbbing running through my leg and raise my sword, preparing to do just that.
“Enough.” The commanding shout has the two of us freezing with our swords raised at the ready. My pseudo brother Mellcom positions himself between us with a hand on each of our chests. “Low blow, Jeremiah. She had you down.”
Jeremiah takes a step toward me at the sound of my condescending hum. My muscles twitch and I prepare for him to plow through Mellcom to get to me.
“I’m not praising your efforts. You had no reason to strike him that hard. You know better than to provoke him, Thayla.”
I sneer at their backs as they stomp off toward the waterspouts. Jeremiah curses me for all I’m worth with every step he takes and Mellcom shakes his head.
The ones I can beat—which are few, mind you. I got lucky with Jeremiah today—never take the loss well. They cheer like it’s their victory, though, when the others have me pinned to the ground with dirt in my mouth.
They’re so much easier to kill in my imagination.
I dig the tip of my training sword into the dirt and tilt my head toward the rising sun. It’s going to be scorching today, judging by the sweat sticking to my skin already.
That also means training is almost over…
My eyes roam over the seventeen other men, still grunting and groaning with each strike against their partners.
It’s a good thing we’re on the border of our region and the four tall clay walls keep us confined here. Otherwise, all that nonsense falling from their lips would wake everyone before the sun has the privilege to.
Sure wish I were sleeping in like most of Oddian.
Instead, I’m spending another morning with them against my will.
These aren’t mere mortal men, but immortal beings. Each with a desperate desire to have their power freed so they can sit among the gods who hoard that power.
It’s a desire I don’t share.
Well…that’s a partial lie.
Everyone in the Valorian Veil wants their godly power.
Including me.
Where we differ is that they’d get on their knees to appease the gods. I’d rather shove the wooden sword I’m gripping down my throat. They’ve done nothing for me. Any of us, really.
So why would I want to do anything for them? To be rewarded with something that’s already mine?
I made the unfortunate mistake of announcing that loud and clear a year ago today during training. On this yearly, very sacred day at that.
The Veiling Day.
The day that will change the lives of only a few.
Mellcom is our group of twenty’s leader. He’s by far the most skilled of us all. His massive six-foot-two muscled frame, paired with the strategic brain attached to his big-ass body, makes him a formidable fighter and teacher.
His job is to shape us into the strongest and most prepared versions of ourselves. If during the Veiling our name is called, we need to be ready to impress the Gods of Godsden.
Supposedly.
Last Veiling, he was in brutal form, pushing everyone to their limits. We all fought each other mercilessly for hours as though we were enemies at war, not partners strengthening one another. He took no pity on us as though he was sparring in front of judging eyes, hoping he’d be among the five from Oddian called to Godsden.
After we watched him pound into that poor idiot who challenged him, he called me up next.
You can bet your ass I refused.
I wasn’t going to be at the receiving end of his relentless mood after I already took a beating under the stars.
