Two
Trial of the Sands
Giria is a city nestled amongst sun-bleached canyons and metallic Black Walls separating itself from the orange deserts of the Girian Province. Each structure within the walls was carved from the surrounding canyons with dark metals patterned to mimic snake scales. The grand spiral towers housed many of the wealthy and famous nobles, who lived in comfort inside the structure’s peaks while the lower and underground levels housed warriors, commoners and slaves who spent their lives serving their elites.
In the city’s centre, the manicured red gardens surrounded the tallest building known as the Spire. The monolithic maroon serpent sculptures intertwined around the structure with their heads bowed low, and their open maws were baring fangs to any that dare defies them. At the Spires peak dwelt the revered oracles. This was the place where they channelled the Twins and passed their commandments to all in the city. The Spire was a beacon of Girian’s might and any who disobeyed the word of the dark Twins were to be hauled into the city’s dungeon and erased from the discussion.
This fear was branded into fledglings if they dared to challenge the oracles and their religion. After a decade spent in the Academy, Von-wratha and her peers were instructed to survive in the wilds for a month as their last phase of training. The arid environment which surrounded the city held life that hid beneath the burning hot surface. The furious twin suns heated the air, so hot, that it could cook the skin of an ill-prepared wanderer. For most of the year, there would only be one sun, until summer came and the second would appear in the blue heavens. The matrons said the suns were the gods’ eyes judging the sinners of the land. This is when fledglings were forced out to prove their worth. Many would never return home, and she could be one of them.
Von-wratha stood in the dim changing room with the other grown fledglings. Some sat on the metal benches in deep meditation, a few sharpened their weapons and stocking on full water pouches, while others chatted quietly amongst themselves — all of them preparing for the most critical challenge of their lives: survival beyond the city. No walls were separating them from seeing each other nude, since most had been raised from infants and had seen each other during bathing. But Von-wratha believed this was another tactic of the matrons to remind their disciples that they were just tools to be tossed together when they were not in use.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Blyth wander into the changing room. Her torso was wrapped in a reused robe carrying a black survival suit. Her eyes were swollen and blue from tears as her fingers popped open her grey metallic locker door. Silence swallowed the room on her entry; all eyes focused on Blyth, even those who were in deep meditation couldn’t help but stare. Von-wratha watched her as she wiped her eyes, a small wave of sympathy rose within her chest as she looked at the sorry sight of her fellow fledgling. Blyth was known to be expressive with her emotions, something that the matrons tried to take from her as it would hinder her from becoming a killer, but they couldn’t. The matrons did succeed in taking it from Von-wratha.
The others sized her up; some even scoffed at her tears. Von-wratha sensed that Blyth’s presence had broken the cool façade from the fledglings; she could almost hear their hearts bashing against their ribs at the thought of dying outside. Perhaps Blyth shared their same fear or feared to return home.
Blyth looked up to see her gaze from the edge of the locker. Von-wratha opened her mouth. She wanted to ask what bothered her, if there were something, anything, she could say that would ease her distress, but nothing came to mind.
“Greetings, Blyth,” she said, her lip curling into a smile.
“Von.” Her cold reply ended any hope of furthering the conversation. She tapped open her locker door and hid her face behind it.
Von-wratha sighed as she pulled off her own old and worn brown robe from her torso and tossed it into her locker. Her mound-like ears pricked up as the sound of an awkward throat clearing emanated behind her. Her head spun around to see Nalax standing beside the adjacent cabinet wearing a similar robe and holding his suit. His eyes widened in horror when she caught his stare and he immediately turned to hide his blue cheeks.
“Oh, for Twins’ sake, Nalax, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Von said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not, I’ve just never liked these cold changing rooms,” he said, keeping his face toward his locker.
“Well, it’s nothing you haven’t seen a million times before – nothing’s changed so you can close your mouth now,” she said, loosening the buckles of the suit.
“My mouth wasn’t open, I was just thinking, and you broke my thoughts,” he said. Von-wratha heard the click of his locker opening.
I know you weren’t thinking of anything, she transmitted as she slipped her legs through the leathery outfit.
Anyway, do you have a plan for the Trial? he asked.
Survive, she replied and turned around as she pulled the sleeves over her arms.
“No, I mean -,” he swung around to see her front exposed, his eyes rolled, and his face blushed again, “I mean how do you plan on surviving?” he whispered.
Von-wratha had been preparing for the Trial of the Sands for years, however, what she had learnt inside the city would pale in comparison to whatever she was going to face in the desert. She bit her lip as she tightened the harnesses of her suit, contemplating the solutions on the future problems she was to have.
“Water, being the most important; food, wherever there’s water, there’s bound to be something edible; shelter, the matrons say there are hundreds of caverns out there,” she said while wrapping her weapons belt with an assortment of daggers and water pouches hooked to it. “and the others,” she whispered, eyeing the fledglings.
Nalax chuckled as he pushed his legs through the holes of his suit while wearing the robe.
“Trying to keep your modesty?” Von said sweetly as her tattooed brows went up.
“Oh please,” Nalax said, pulling the suit to his waist before tearing off his robe. There was something that Von-wratha hadn’t seen before. Lean muscles covered the face of his torso, not a single discernible bone could be seen on his broad shoulders, and his long arms were just as toned. It was her turn to roll her eyes.
“Do you know how to get any of those things?” he said, glancing up.
“I’ll figure it out when I’m out there. Besides, anyone comes too close with ill-intent, they’ve got my blades to answer to,” she said tapping her daggers.
“That’s good, we’ll make a good team then,” he whispered.
“I think they want us to survive on our own, Nalax,” she said crossing her arms.
“Actually, there are no rules that explicitly state that, and I never thought you were the one for rules,” Nalax said as he buckled up his suit.
“And how do you know that? Did the matrons tell you?”
“I’ll give you a clue: telepathy,” he said as a grin spread on his face.
“Nalax…” her voice becoming strained.
“I discovered a whole lot more about what’s outside,” he said walking over and patting Von-wratha’s back.
“What might that be?” she said as her arms crossed over her chest.
“Let me worry about getting the resources, and you can deal with any interlopers that come our way in a sane and reasonable manner,” he said as his eyes drifted to her blades.
~
The changing room slowly emptied as the Matrons of Death called their disciples one by one to join them at the Black Walls. Von-wratha and Nalax spent their last hours telepathically conversing on finding enough resources for a month, but Blyth remained silent as she sat alone on the bench. She didn’t even bother to attempt listening in on their thoughts. As if she had given up before the Trial started.
Should we try to bring her into our plan? Nalax transmitted, only his eyes turning to Blyth.
What’s the point? She doesn’t seem interested in keeping her skin, Von said as she rested her back against her closed locker.
Three is better than two, Von. She could help us with gathering food, he said, keeping his eyes on her.
Blyth would fare better if she were used as a decoy for food, Von said, trying to suppress a chuckle.
Nalax snapped his eyes to her. Not funny, Von, he said.
It was just a joke, my friend, she said as she further edged into the metal door.
That seemed to appease him. He sighed as he turned to rest his back beside Von-wratha.
We might never see this place or some of these people again, he said.
There are some that I wish never to see again, Von replied as an image of Matron Aeos came into her mind.
I haven’t seen her all day. Which one of us do you think she’ll collect first? Nalax said.
I don’t know, why? Von asked, but before she could get an answer, a Matron of Death swooped into the room. Her black-sleeved arm outstretched, and bony finger pointed to Blyth.
“You,” her voice sounded as if she had been swallowing sand her whole life, but Von-wratha quickly suppressed the thought fearing she overheard it.
Blyth longingly looked to her bench. Von-wratha could even see her eyes welling with tears before joining her matron to the walls. The double-sided doors that separated their changing room from the rest of the Academy slammed shut. Their sounds were amplified with each fledgling leaving the chamber.
“Good fortunes, Blyth,” Nalax said as he straightened his back from the locker.
Von-wratha glanced at him as he shuffled across the chamber. “Where do you think you’re going?” she said.
Nalax turned with unnerving confidence, “Saying goodbye to this place.”
“Not even beyond the walls and you already have desert-madness,” Von said, jumping from her locker, “If they catch you outside of this room, they will have you impaled without hesitation.”
His shoulders drooped as he sighed, “I’ll only be gone for a moment, I just want to see our windowsill again.”
Von-wratha repeated in her mind. His words reached deep and stirred something inside that she had learnt to cage. For the first time in years, she felt fear. She slowly walked over to him, took his hands into hers and held them up to their faces.
“I know when you’re afraid, Nalax, I’ve known you for too long. Right now, you’ve got to be smart about this, like you always are. That’s what we must be to see this through,” she whispered.
“Von, I…I don’t know if I can do this. Seeing everyone go one at a time…” he said as his eyes darted around the empty chamber.
“You’re not doing it: we are,” she said, she felt the muscles on her cheeks pull effortlessly across her face.
“‘It’s just you and me,’ hm?” he said exchanging her smile.
Von-wratha pulled her hands from his, she sucked air into her lungs before giving him a hard tap on his shoulder. “Don’t leave this place, just stay here.”
A low cackle echoed in the room. It was like alarm bells ringing in her mind. Matron Aeos was here.
“You should listen to her, Nalax, it’s very dangerous going outside,” she said as her cloaked form materialised beside the metal doors.
Nalax’s muscles tensed as he whipped around to face the Matron of Stealth. This seemed to amuse her. Von-wratha’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to Nalax, the sleeves on their arms almost touching. Matron Aeos’s red eyes flashed at their touch. Her glare wandered to Von-wratha as they narrowed into slits.
“Have you made peace with the Twins?” she hissed.
“We have, Matron, I am ready for the Trial of the Sa-,” Nalax said, but was cut by a howl of laughter from Aeos.
“No one is ready for the Trials!” she spat. Her jagged teeth shone underneath her open wrinkled lips as her head turned to Von-wratha.
“I have, Matron,” Von said.
“Come,” Matron Aeos pushed the metal doors open before glancing back to Nalax, “I’ll deal with you soon.”
Nalax’s face lost colour as he looked to Von-wratha in silent desperation. She brushed her hand against his, it gave him some relief. She strode over to her matron and bowed her head before exiting the chamber to join the other fledglings, and hopefully Nalax.
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