Page 23 of The Gilded Ones

Around us, the girls murmur among themselves, wondering what to do.

Keita steps forward once more. “We can guarantee your safety to the border of Hemaira,” he says. “After that, it’s up to you.” He glances pointedly at the proud girl, and whatever hope I had crumples like ashes in my mouth.

There it is, the condition. Yes, we can flee here, but once we leave Hemaira’s gates, we return to our old lives – to the Death Mandate, the constant threat of deathshrieks… Keita is just like all the rest, giving us impossibilities and calling them choices.

The proud girl seems to know this, because she looks from the open door back to him. “We have your word?” she asks distrustfully, glancing from him to the commander, who nods.

“I swear upon Oyomo’s kuru,” Keita replies, referring to the sacred sun symbol. “I will, however, say this: you can make something of yourself at the training grounds. You can be fighters, and once you’re done, you will be given absolution. Or you can spend your lives as outcasts, always fearing the Death Mandate. The truth of the matter is simple: you’re either with us or against us. The choice is up to you.”

Giving her a quick, short bow, he returns to his position in line. I’m thankful he’s gone – angry at myself that I almost believed their words. Why did I think, even for a moment, that he would be different from Ionas and all the others?

My attention returns to the girl now standing in the middle of the hall, her eyes shadowed and dark. She looks towards the door again, and then back at the line. Her gaze flickers between the two – door, line, line, door. I can see her mind racing, making the same calculations mine has. Finally, she makes her choice. She straightens her back and walks over to her line, as regal as a queen. She’s staying.

I can almost feel Keita’s pleased smile as, slowly but surely, the other girls follow her lead.

Once all the girls are back in line and everything is as it was, the taller commander walks to the edge of his platform and removes his war mask. His face is both haughty and commanding at once: so dark it’s almost the colour of the midnight sky, and so severe, his severe, dark-brown eyes pierce us from above cheekbones sharp as knives.

“I am Captain Kelechi, commander of the jatu assigned to the Warthu Bera, your honoured training ground,” he declares, his voice ringing through the hall. “Before you stand the newest recruits to the Warthu Bera.” He gestures to the line of boys, who quickly remove their helmets and war masks. “They are here to serve as your uruni, your brothers in arms. After your first three weeks of initial training are completed, they will join you and provide aid for the coming months of combat. It is our hope that you will form lasting and deep partnerships with them, which will extend well past the time you leave these walls.”

“Brothers?” Britta whispers under her breath, her dismayed expression echoing my own. I can’t imagine any of those haughty-looking boys as our new brothers.

Beside us, a girl with long braids scoffs under her breath: “More like spies, ensuring that we remain firmly in our places.”

The captain continues, ignoring the rising whispers: “As you all no doubt know, deathshrieks have begun massing in their primal nesting ground near the N’Oyo Mountains, hundreds of thousands of them.”

“Hundreds of thousands…” Britta whispers, an echo of my panicked thoughts. I knew there were a lot of deathshrieks, but I could have never imagined the true scope of their numbers.

“What you may not know is that Hemaira lies on their path. That is why Emperor Gezo has decided that all alaki – even the neophytes – must go on monthly raids, both thinning out their forces and preparing yourselves for the campaign. You must know everything about your enemy, every strength, every weakness, before you face them on the battlefield, and the recruits will aid you in this task.”

Whispers explode. Monthly raids? Does he mean we’ll actually have to face deathshrieks out in the wild?

As my breath catches in horror, Captain Kelechi continues: “In the coming months, you will face the most fearsome monsters in all of Otera, but you will not face them alone. Your new uruni will be with you every step of the way. Even when you’re completing your initial training, they’ll be just on the other side of the wall, waiting to join you, your brothers in arms.”

He motions to the recruits, and they march to form a single line behind him, their bodies at attention. The smaller commander, who has remained silent all this while, motions for us to do the same. It takes us a little more time, the jatu shoving at us, but after some moments, we are standing in an opposite line, so that the two commanders face each other.

Once we’re in place, the captain and his silent companion motion again, and the recruits take one step to the side, then slowly begin to file past our line.

Now I understand. This is how we receive our partners: by matching with whichever jatu stops next to us when Captain Kelechi calls for a halt.

My heart rises to my throat with each step the recruits take. Please don’t match me with a cruel boy, or one who hates alaki, I silently beg Oyomo. Ionas’s face flashes in my memory, and I push it away, praying even harder. Please, please, please…

The procession continues, seeming to stretch on for ever as the recruit line continues slowly and deliberately towards the end of ours. Boys walk past – tall, short, plump, thin; Southerners, Easterners, Westerners, Northerners; all with similar forbidding looks on their faces, many with barely hidden sneers. I’m so nervous now, my hands are sweating and my stomach is in knots. I’m suddenly keenly aware of my shabby appearance – tattered hair and robes, unmasked face.

I lower my eyes and then keep them studiously fixed on the floor, unable to look any more. There’s no way my prayers will be answered. The boys seem as reluctant to be here as we are – some of them even angry, unwilling to look at our faces. I can only imagine what they think, knowing that they will have to work with impure girls. Descendants of demons who are strong enough to toss them away like the proud girl did.

I keep sweating, my eyes firmly lowered, until I finally hear the command: “Stop.”

For a moment, I can’t look up. What will I find if I do – disgust? Fear? I swallow deeply, steeling myself for disappointment. Then I raise my head. To my surprise, standing before me is a short Western boy, hair black, three tattooed lines from chin to lip. When he smiles at me, brown eyes kind and gentle, I feel a tremor of relief. He’s not one of the larger boys, the threatening ones. In fact, if I squint, he looks almost girlish, with his long lashes and shy smile. I smile back, the knots in my stomach loosening.

Then Captain Kelechi calls out, “Recruits – take one more step and face your partner.”

Take one more step?

Horror douses me as the Western boy shrugs ruefully in apology and then obeys the command, going to stand before a girl with flaming red hair. I look up and despair washes over me. Stern golden eyes are peering down into mine. Recruit Keita’s. He’s my new partner.

I barely hear Captain Kelechi when he speaks again, barely hear anything past the panicked beating of my heart. “Make your introductions!” he commands.

Keita looks down at me, his face expressionless. “I am Keita,” he says. “Keita of Gar Fatu.”

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