Ademar woke from a night of fitful dreams. Today they would face their challenges.
He’d once studied the Fifth Sanctum, yet still he knew nothing of what was to come—because no one had ever survived to tell the tale. All knowledge was speculation—and so far, all of the speculation had been wrong.
They had spent two full days in silence in their chambers. They were told to prepare for the challenges, but not how or why. Only at mealtimes were they allowed to see each other, and even then, they barely spoke. They were too lost in their thoughts. Especially Tace, who had stopped talking completely once she found out Ademar had nothing of value to offer in preparation.
He dressed slowly, a feeling of dread in his stomach like a sinking stone. It was the same every waking moment. At any time the boy might arrive to tell Ademar it was his turn to take the challenge. He would survive, or die trying. He had a lot of reasons to live, more than he’d ever had before, but he knew reasons alone wouldn’t save him. He would have to earn his life from that moment on. Every breath, every thought, every choice would turn him down another path.
“Only one leads to life,” said a voice.
He whipped his head around, looking for the source of the voice. The intruder had spied on his very thoughts. It gave him an even sicker feeling in his gut.
“Your time has come,” the voice said. It wasn’t the boy; this voice was female, high-pitched, but light, as if she couldn’t take in enough air to speak a whole sentence. Shivers skittered down his spine.
“What am I to do?”
“Disrobe,” the voice said matter-of-factly.
“I will not!” Ademar reached for his tunic that lay on his bed, but found his feet frozen in place.
“Disrobe!” the voice commanded.
Ademar tried once again to lift his feet, but they were stuck to the floor. Grumbling under his breath, he untied the string on his breeches and dropped them to the floor.
“Disrobe!” the voice screeched.
Ademar’s hands flew to cover his ears, and as he did, his undergarment fell to his ankles. A cold breeze swept over his private parts, as if something, or someone, was moving past him.
“Disobey again, and I will eject you from the Fifth Sanctum into oblivion.” The voice was disconcertingly sweet once more.
Feeling more vulnerable than ever before, Ademar covered himself in front.
“Come.”
A strange, pulsing vortex appeared in his chamber. He blinked furiously as the shimmering light.
“Come,” the voice repeated, less gently.
Ademar tried lifting his feet again, and was surprised to find they were no longer stuck to the floor. With the cold stone floor under his toes, he stepped toward the strange light.
“Enter. Begin your trials.”
He swallowed hard, thinking of everything he had waiting for him if he survived. Tace. Knowledge that would help them stop the infection spreading through the orcs of Agitar. More understanding of what the orcs were facing from their vengeful god Drothu. A full life.
Steeling his fists at his sides, Ademar closed his eyes and stepped into the vortex.
A strange liquid surrounded him, filling every crevice of his body, like it was sucking him in. He couldn’t breathe, but it was almost as if he didn’t need to. Something was keeping him alive. That same something guided his body forward. He fell onto his knees on a soft surface.
Ademar opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that he was dressed in a dark, one-piece uniform. A whack across the back of his head forced him to his feet. He turned around, ready to face his attacker.
It was Tace.
She was dressed similarly, but with a black hood pulled high over her head. Her eyes, swirling red with bloodlust, focused squarely on him.
“Are you prepared to meet Drothu?” she asked in a voice he’d heard out of her only once—when he’d walked in on her attempt to assassinate Hugh.
“Tace, it’s me. Ademar. I don’t know if this is part of your challenge, but we can fight this together.” He held out a hand toward her.
“As custom dictates, we don’t know each other. What we are about to do will only be judged in the eyes of Drothu. No mercy.” She tilted her head to the side, and there was no sign of recognition in her posture. “We were ordered not to give names. It’s clever of you to try to distract me with yours. And how you know mine is a mystery. Still, I won’t let it affect what I need to do here today.”
She truly did not know who he was, and it appeared there would be no way to get through to her. This was his challenge? To fight the orc?
Ademar dropped his hands to his sides. “I won’t fight you.”
A smile slithered across Tace’s face. “I know the game you play, stranger. But I won’t fall for it.”
She lunged at him, her sword ripping the sleeve of his shirt as Ademar dodged to the side.
She’d taught him about fighting. He knew her every move. Ademar took a step back, then kicked hard, knocking the sword from her hands. Before she could reach for the daggers she always had concealed at her waist, Ademar grabbed her, spun her around, and locked her back against his chest.
“If you so much as try to touch me sexually, I will grab your tongue and rip it out of your mouth,” she spat.
“I don’t want to fight you or touch you inappropriately. I want you to stop.”
Tace struggled against him, but he held tight until his muscles ached. She had always matched him in strength, and he wouldn’t last long—but if she didn’t know his name, then maybe she didn’t know that about him either. She’d try something different before trying to outlast him.
As if she read his mind, Tace stomped on his booted foot hard enough to cause him to see stars. He let go, staggering backward.
Before he could recover, she came at him with daggers drawn. Calculated slashes left his shirt in ribbons, his blood dripping from burning wounds.
“Tace, don’t do this,” he begged. He knew the truth: she was the superior fighter. She always had been. Every time they’d fought, she’d pulled her punches, and she never let him forget it.
“One of us must die,” Tace said. “Assassins leave no victims. Only one of us will be initiated in the guild.” She smiled again, hurting his heart. How he loved that smile when it was wry, but now it was something much more dangerous. It was a side of her he’d only glimpsed, and never quite believed was real. “And I can promise you,” she added, “it will be me.”
As she lunged at him again, Ademar gave up. He would not fight her.
He closed his eyes, spread his arms wide, and let her daggers penetrate the sides of his chest, puncturing his lungs. He fell to his knees, then onto his side, blood spurting out of his wounds with every gurgled breath.
She would have her place in the guild. And that place would eventually lead her to the assignment where she would meet him.
“Tace,” he said, struggling to speak through the bubbling blood in his throat.
She knelt on the ground next to him. “Yes?”
“I love you.”
She snarled, then pulled one of her daggers over his throat, ending his life in one swift movement.
Ademar’s eyes snapped open. He sat up in his chamber, his naked body covered in sweat. His hands fumbled over his throat and up and down his sides. He was whole. He was alive.
“Do you see now who you have brought here?” the sweet voice said. “She has taken many lives. She will continue to take more. We need her to do this to complete her journey as the savior of the orcs. Can you allow that side of her to flourish in service of righteousness?”
Ademar swallowed hard. He was grateful he was still alive, but sick at what he’d seen. He had always known Tace was an assassin. He knew what she was capable of. Still, experiencing it for himself… that was different. She had no compassion, no inhibition when it came to killing. He might even admit she had relished watching him die.
“Was that really Tace?” he asked. “Was this her challenge, too?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Tace’s challenge is not for you to know, as yours is not for her to know. But I will tell you, she has yet to face her trial. Hope she passes as you did.”
“And if she doesn’t? If she is a savior, surely you will let her pass,” he said.
But no one answered. The voice had gone.