COMMANDER CAYOS UNLOCKED a heavy wooden door with a skeleton key he kept on his person for just that purpose. It opened onto a wide hallway of smoothed stone block with a curving ceiling. Tiny arrow slits cast limited light into the passage, bars of light and dark decorating the floor. He blinked, and bright light flashed behind his eyelids. The light blinded the eye to the darkness between stripes. He disliked the corridor, for it assumed that all dangers were from without and ignored what could be hiding in plain sight. He pushed the glowing torch in his hand in front of his body, keeping his sword hand free. Caution kept a soldier alive, and he was not foolish enough to believe that the emperor’s enemies wore badges announcing their allegiance. The council chambers were a viperous pit, and who knew where the servants’ loyalties lay or who had been bought by whom. No, to keep one’s head, one had to always expect the unexpected.
The corridor curved around the outer wall then crossed from one tower to another. A stiff breeze howled in the slits, whistling as it passed. Despite the warmth of the spring day sun, at this altitude the wind was always cold. A raven cried, and its shadow darkened the light as he walked down the passage. At the far end, a matching door blocked the entrance to the short, flat-topped tower. Cayos unlocked the door and pulled it open to reveal a barrack-style room furnished with ten beds and matching tables set with oil lamps, an identical throw rug warming the floor by each bed and pegs set in the stone wall for hanging clothes. The sleeping chambers were separated by cloth partitions. In the center of the room, a fire blazed in a large brazier, warming the space. The ceilings disappeared into inky blackness, and the occasional rustle of wings announced birds or bats nesting in the stone cavities above his head. Along an inner wall, a rack of swords hung with matching shields. Greaves for legs and arms, and tunics of thick boiled leather and linen undergarments hung above rows of polished boots. Off to the right, a row of showers and a latrine with a flushable water system were hidden behind a pair of swinging barn-style doors on springs. The fresh smells of lemon oil and beeswax filled the air. The floor had been scrubbed clean, erasing the long years of disuse. The cleaning staff had worked through the night, polishing the furnishings and preparing the chamber for its new inhabitants.
This barrack was for the young men who bore the crystal hearts. It had sat empty since the Great Purge. With the elimination of the witches, there had been no more dragons, and so the training tower had fallen into disuse, but the dragons were back, if the emperor was to be believed. Legend said that only those chosen by the crystal heart could subdue and control a dragon.
Cayos cracked his neck then straightened, standing at the ready, his hand poised over the hilt of his sword. Magic in any form made him uncomfortable, and there was no doubt in his mind that magic was at play. The young wizards were his charge, but it made his skin crawl to think of dealing with such subversive forces on a daily basis. Thankfully his duty was to teach battle techniques. Commander Gaitain would take over their magical training when he returned. That had been his charge, and Cayos was never more thankful that he had received the commission for teaching the simple expedient of how to kill something mortal.
At that moment, a babble of high-pitched voices, interspersed with some deeper tones, reached his ears. Cayos turned toward the gently sloping ramp that fed to the barracks level far back in the chamber.
A bobbing light reflected off the curve of wall and extended to spill out into the room. A tall grey-haired woman with her hair tied into a neat bun at the back of her neck entered the room. Her livery was a navy-blue dress covered with a white apron that came to the top of her ankle boots. The apron was decorated with a stylized dragon in silver. Behind her came the babbling boys, excitedly pointing out every feature of the room before they even reached the threshold. Voices drifted to his ears the closer they came.
“…swear it’s true! Dragons live here. This is the dragon tower!”
“No, it isn’t! Dragons are extinct. They use this tower for advanced weapons training for the Citadel Guard. My pa told me it was so. My pa knows everything.”
“No, he doesn’t ’cause he is wrong! It’s dragons, I tell you! I saw them with my own eyes.”
“Liar!” Laughter echoed in the corridor.
The matron turned, blocking the entrance. “Enough foolish talk,” she said, waiting for their raised voices to wane. When quiet had descended, and every eye was focused on her, she said, “Now. You are to be turned over to Commander Cayos who is a decorated Citadel Guard. He will be one of your instructors. He is a master of arms. You will obey him without question. Understood?” When each of their heads had bobbed in agreement, she continued, “I will return at dawn and at dusk to assure that all of you are accounted for. The door to the barracks will be unlocked and locked at these hours for your protection. Now follow me.”
She stepped into the room and led them to where Commander Cayos stood at the ready. “Commander, may I present the crystal heart bearers. These are your charges.” She curtsied and stepped aside.
“Thank you, Tiguan. I will take it from here.” Commander Cayos studied the trainees, all of whom appeared to range in age from twelve to sixteen or seventeen. They varied in height and build, skin and hair colour, a true cross-section of the world of Gaia. Every province was represented.
The young men milled around, taking in the room and its furnishings. The ten young men were of every shape and size and wealth, as shown by their varied clothing.
“First order of business is that you will all strip and take showers. Once you are cleaned up, you will put on a set of the clothing hanging just inside the doors. Your old clothes will be brought to me here. You have minutes to accomplish this task. If you are not back here within five minutes, you will do fifty laps around the barracks. Your time starts now!” Cayos barked out the command, and the young men, taken unaware, stared about in confusion. “Move!” he bellowed.
They ran to the showers, peeling clothing off as they ran. They jammed at the doors and pushed each other aside in the scramble to reach the showers. The sound of running water and gasps about the cold, mixed with a few localized curses met his ears and Cayos grinned.
“Four minutes!” Cayos yelled, watching the angle of the sun and the pattern it made on the floor. When the shadow reached a certain spot, he yelled, “Three minutes.” Then “Two minutes.”
The cursing was much louder. “One minute!” The first boy stumbled out of the doors, barefoot and still buttoning his pants. The clothing he had chosen was too small, and his ankles poked out the bottom. Two more young men tumbled out the doors, buttoning shirts, and the fourth boy was holding his pants up by the waist, despite their being buttoned.
“Thirty seconds!” Cayos bellowed and a fifth hopped over to stand in front of him, pulling his pants up over his hips once he reached Commander Cayos. The boy grinned at him, and then the Commander’s eyes travelled back to the swinging doors. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Arguing burst from the bathroom. “…three, two, one.” Three more bodies fell through the opening.
“Time’s up!” groans met Cayos’s words, and the final two stumbled out of the door to join the three who had not quite made it in time. All in all only half had returned on time. Those who were out of time shuffled up to stand in front of him. The other five young men were laughing aloud at those who were late. Grumbling they all lined up in front of the big commander.
Commander Cayos crossed his arms across his chest, biceps bulging, and brows drawn together to frame fierce eyes. All signs of mirth vanished as though someone had wiped a slate board clean.
“Lesson number one. Never ever leave a man behind,” he snarled. “When you fight for your life, you must be able to trust your squad to have your back. You must know that they will not abandon you. Cohesive fighting is both knowing and understanding instinctively, not just what your partner is doing, but what he might do when he is out of sight.” The laughter died as the boys realized that this had not been a game. Feet shuffled in embarrassment.
“You will strip off your clothes and check the tags inside for your name. When you have exchanged clothing and are fully dressed, you will all run the fifty laps, as a team. You will all finish at the same time and leave no man behind. You are only as strong as your weakest link. Now get started.”
Grumbling and muttering broke out, but the young men did as instructed. Once their clothing was sorted and properly donned, they began their laps. The boys naturally fell in with a partner who matched them in stride, and, at the slowed pace, they were able to talk as they ran. Names were exchanged, and the seeds for bonds of trust were planted.
When they had finished their fifty laps, they found Commander Cayos with his feet up on a chair, warming his toes by the brazier. As they halted one by one in front of him, huffing and puffing, Cayos sent the young men off to fetch their old clothing.
When they had reassembled, sweating and thirsty, he said, “Toss your clothing into the brazier. You will no longer need it. There is water with lemon in the pitcher on each of your nightstands. Help yourself to a drink.” One by one they did as commanded then hurried off to their assigned beds (this time they looked for their names scrawled in chalk on the foot of each bed) and poured full glasses of the quenching liquid. Having drunk their fill, they walked back over to Commander Cayos, chatting with their adopted running partners.
Cayos watched the parings, observing who spoke to whom and made a mental note.
He dropped his feet to the floor and stood, towering over them.
“Food will be served in a half hour. You will eat, shower once again, and then lights will be put out at the top of the hour. You will go directly to sleep. Starting tomorrow, you will train from sun up to sundown, eight days a week. You will wear your crystals at all times. Never take them off for any reason, for the day that you do, you may die.” Jaws dropped at the pronouncement, and eyes widened with fear. “Enjoy your last night of more than six hours of sleep. I will be back at the stroke of dawn, and you will be dressed and ready when I arrive or it will be more laps.”
“But, sir!” said Mirza of Tunise, “how will we know what time it is?”
“That is for you to figure out. Mark my words. You will be up before dawn and dressed for my arrival.” With his final warning lingering on the air, he left the barracks, locking the door behind him.