Page 30 of Riftborne
My mind was in the Sprithe River, drowning somewhere beneath the current.
CHAPTER 11
Tomorrow would markthe first day of Eibhlín, the phase of the year when cold began its descent into the realm and light disappeared from the sky earlier each day. My eyes were fighting ferociously to stay closed.
I had reviewed the paperwork General Ashford provided about the Guard and how it was structured. Important information, no doubt. But mind numbingly boring to read.
The Guard was divided into five distinct factions. Base was the foundation, made up of guards who policed the cities and maintained the infrastructure that supported the realm, manning forts, bridges and checkpoints between regions.
Next, there was Faction Immunity, the medics, who possessed the ability to heal in a variety of ways. Their focuses were invaluable in the aftermath of an attack, weaving enchantments and stitching wounds that most could not even attempt.
Then there was the combat triad. Faction Scales was made up of infantry guards, employing those with a focus that amplified strength and agility. They were the shield against invasion, the first line to absorb an oncoming attack.
Faction Fang was the artillery. Their focuses enhanced the effectiveness of ranged combat, holding down the major forts from an elevated angle, blasting canons and arrows with deadly precision.
The third in the triad was General Ashford’s unit. They operated outside of typical protocol, and played by different rules. They were the secret weapon. The ones who went in for the final kill.
Faction Venom.
A uniform ranking system was the only thing that connected us to the different sections. Recruits ascended through the ranks, from initiate to officer, lieutenant, and finally, general, who answered directly to the King. But the last was reserved for a select few who possessed not only combat prowess but also the strategic sharpness to command armies.
Each faction was marked by a distinct shade from Sídhe’s palette. Base was a deep, forest green. Immunity, a subtle blend of moss and beige. Scales was silver; and Fang, a burnished gold.
Venom, of course, was black.
I would wear black.
My thoughts shifted back to what was to come of the day.
The General was insufferable already… I couldn’t even imagine the horrors that awaited me at the gym. Intuition told me his mind games would be in full swing.
Just get through this first day. Then you’ll know what to expect.
Shaking off the anxiety, I stood and stared into the pantry, my vision unfocused, unsure if I could stomach anything this morning.
The compounding uncertainty was putting me on edge.
In less than an hour, I would be alone with the predator. A shudder ran through me as it sank in. He could kill me, and no one would ever know about it. There’d certainly be no repercussions.
But then he’d forfeit a potential weapon. That was keeping me alive, at least.
A Riftborne wouldn't survive long in the Guard. I’d never heard of one joining; it seemed sacrilegious. I was a mouse in a sea of serpents. If he wasn’t the one to kill me, I’m sure someone else would find the opportunity far too tempting.
But spiraling was going to get me exactly nowhere.
Osta, bless her optimistic heart, had already left for work, leaving me to wrestle with my clothes. Yesterday, she showered me with good luck wishes, blissfully unaware of the dread churning in my gut. Mentioning the guard sighting felt pointless. I wouldn't burden her with my worries. Deep down, I knew it was coming, but seeing him there... It shook me more than I expected. I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus. Next time, I'd be ready.
The General hadn’t specified anything that I needed to bring with me apart from myself. He also hadn’t told me what to wear. Maybe it didn’t matter.
What does one wear to mental gymnastics practice, anyway?
Sighing, I opted for fitted trousers–soft, stretchy and allowing for movement. A long-sleeve top of the same material hugged my shoulders.
All black. It felt appropriate. He seemed fond enough of the color.
I stole one last glance in the mirror, making a sorry attempt to tuck my loose curls back into their tie. Black really had a way of accentuating my… everything. A wave of self-consciousness washed over me, and I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly dissatisfied with my reflection. Pacing over to my makeshift closet, I yanked out a cloak and draped it over my shoulders before shuffling out of the apartment.
The meeting place was close to the Apothecary, which made finding my way easy enough. It was a private gym that I must have passed over a hundred times but had never paid any attention to.
