EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) (2 page)

Taking over a mid-sized city in former southern North America, they repurposed the buildings that were left standing and spent many years building a wall to surround the Republic. They used the rubble of destroyed interstates, highways, and buildings to enclose and protect the new nation from terrorists and marauders. During the rebuilding, they noticed some of the citizens were able to accomplish super-human tasks, thus separating those individuals from the “normal” ones. They deemed them saviors and explained that these super-humans were blessed with mutations from the radiation. They were named the Exalted. They were strong, fast and fearless. They were gods.

The Exalted accepted their new roles with the glorious Republic, vowing to protect the “regular” people against all threats at any cost. And we have been doing so ever since, growing stronger with the Pump, training, and through the yearly United Trials. We now follow Dr. Fredericks’ son, Dr. Fredericks II. He has continued on with his father’s plan, held our nation together, and kept us whole.

Now that my class and I are in our 17th year of life, we do not need to study things like history, math, or language. We are preparing for the United Trials. They will take place in a few weeks with the United Ceremony at the end of our 17th year.

Winning the Trials is the biggest honor for our race. There are three in all, which will test our skills in weaponry, combat, and survival. We will be ranked and then matched up male with female. The results will determine our mate for life to which we will be bound in the United Ceremony. The Trials are the best way to produce the strongest offspring so we can continue protecting the citizens.

Since childhood, we have trained in fitness, weaponry, and combat. Each of us has trained in our general weapons class with multiple weapons, but now we must pick just one to carry with us into our future as a protector. Today is Choosing Day.

We stand against the wall of the gymnasium and wait for our name to be called. The room is much like the rest of the facility. There are bare gray walls, gray floors, and gray ceiling tiles. It’s all gray, except for one wall that hosts a wide selection of weapons. I can see most everything there with the exception of guns. The Exalted believe that a firearm is a weak man’s weapon, so we don’t train with them.

Swords and knives reflect the sun’s light, casting tiny rainbows across the floor at certain times of the day. This is the most color we see inside this room . . . unless someone bleeds.

Choosing Day is a small ceremony of sorts. All of the main instructors have come to witness this event. They stand still, like silent statues in the shadowy background, waiting to see which of the most promising trainees will pick their own weapon of choice. Instructors receive great praise for training a first place Exalted.

Walking to the center of the gymnasium’s floor, Force, one of our regular instructors, begins the ceremony. The tone in his voice is commanding and soothing at the same time. He says, “Strength be with you, on this extremely important day.” I can’t help but sarcastically note to myself that his second place parents chose a very original name for him. Force is just as broad as he is tall . . . and he is very tall. During demonstrations, his bald head always seems to gleam in sync with his axe as he wields it around. I’ve been dazzled by it a few times and have consequently taken several hard blows—mostly to my head.

“Today, you will all choose the weapon that will carry you into your life as an Exalted. Choose wisely.” He bows and moves off to the side of the room making way for the trainees to cross his path.

And just like that, it starts. Force begins calling each trainee one-by-one. “Az, choose your weapon,” Force booms while sweeping an arm across the room, inviting Az to pick a weapon off the wall of death. 

Az idolized Force during general weapons training and always favored the axe because of it. Therefore, I am not surprised to watch him walk directly over to the hefty killing tool that hangs on the lower right side of the wall. He returns to the line with his head held high and chest puffed out like a bird during mating season. It’s kind of ironic since that’s really what this all boils down to.

Down the list of names he goes, each trainee choosing, each one exuding confidence.

Finally, it’s my turn. “Mena, choose your weapon.” I meet Force’s hard gaze as he invites me to begin my journey into the life of an Exalted.

Choice, something I have never had before. It gives me pause. When I notice Force staring at me, however, I quickly shake off my unusual reaction. I find my confidence once again as I take my turn. I walk across the length of the gymnasium to choose the weapon that will be like a new appendage to my body. My steady hand reaches out and takes a belt loaded with knives of different sizes. Of all the choices, I am most comfortable with these small blades as opposed to a long sword or even a mighty spear. Plus, I get to have one in each hand. I’ll be twice as deadly. I fasten the silver buckle around my slim waist and return to my place in line.

I did it. I have an identity. This is who I am now; I am a Knife Thrower.

I pay close attention when Force calls my best friend’s name. “Valesca, choose your weapon.” She hasn’t told me what she will be choosing, but I suspect it will be the same as the rest of her family. They are known for their precision with a bow.

Val’s thin fingers curl around the smooth arch of a handsome bow, and then she snatches a sheath of arrows nearby, slinging them over her shoulder like she’s ready for battle.

In the end, Trudi and Kwan chose swords. Az, Leen, Kinah and a few others chose blunt force weapons. Chasin, Cuyler, Val and two other girls chose the bow. Ethan was the only other to choose the knives.

Ethan is my only male friend and has been since we were late to class once at the age of nine. As punishment, the instructors shaved our heads and locked us in a dark closest for three days without food. I was never late after that day . . . neither was Ethan.

There were many other types of weapons that were left untouched in the Choosing Day ceremony. The unfortunate instructors for those weapons slink off past the others. They will have to go on patrol until a new group of trainees come through next year.

The class is silent as we wait for further instruction from Force. He clears his throat before addressing us once again. “You have all chosen wisely. Now, split into groups based on your weapons. Your specialized instructor will lead you to your new training space.” He claps his hands together. The impact creates an unusually loud bang, which get us moving.

Ethan is at my side before I even turn to look for him. He is well built with a strong jaw line, but short for an Exalted male at only 6’1”. We have the height problem in common and have worked hard together to make up for it with our speed.

“Wise choice in weapons, Ethan.” I complement him as I tie back my long, brown hair. Training with a male will benefit me greatly. I will strive to be stronger than him.

Ethan’s fair hair is kept short and tidy. He runs his fingers through it, as he looks at me with his piercing blue eyes. He replies, “Thank you, Mena. I hope to give you some competition.”

I open my mouth to respond with something equally challenging, but I notice Instructor Garret rapidly descending upon us. It causes me to stop short. “Follow me,” he orders, never stopping on his way to the exit. Ethan and I follow him down several corridors. When we exit the main training facility at the far side of the building, we jog a short distance to our destination; a flat-roofed, concrete building with no markings. Garret unlocks and opens the building’s glass door that has been painted black. My eyes go wide as our new training space is revealed.

We both look around the large space in appreciation. Its size is larger than the gymnasium we were just in. Garret tells us that it was once called a grocery store where food was sold. I believe that it is without question more useful as a training facility.

Around the perimeter, there are targets, some much like archery targets with a red bulls-eye surrounded by the outer red and white rings. There are also three human-shaped dummies hanging from the ceiling, their lifeless legs dangling inches from the ground. If they could just reach the floor, they would probably sprint out of the building from fear of knowing what their future holds. Near us, in the corner, is a wooden board that’s painted white. It has numerous black circles that are evenly spaced upon its surface. Row upon row. Column after column. At the center of the building, there is something that resembles an obstacle course. Down one side is a 15-foot tall, concrete block wall, resembling what surrounds most of our city. Twelve fake trees of different sizes are spaced randomly around the course. There are also things like shrubs, cacti, crates, boulders and a pond, all surrounded by a sandy floor.

Garret doesn’t waste any time. He opens with, “This facility is where we will train every morning for the next six weeks to prepare you for the United Trials. Report here directly after breakfast everyday. Mastering your accuracy with the knives will be our first task to prepare you for the First Trial. Once you both have complete control over your weapons, using both hands, then we will move onto training on the Defender’s Course. This will prepare you for the Second and Third Trials.” Garret pauses, looking each of us in the eyes to make sure we understand this next part. He says, “It’s in your best interest to master your weapons as soon as possible. The more time you have on the Defender’s Course, the better prepared you will be for the Final Trial. Understand?” He looks at us expectantly with his brow furrowed and his set jaw.

“Yes, instructor,” we both answer in unison.

“Take your position behind the first white line,” Garret instructs us as he gestures toward the most recognizable of all the targets. “Locate your throwing knives on your belt. You should each have six. You will also find two fixed-blade skinning knives and two boot daggers.”

Ethan and I skirt around the edge of the course toward the red and white ringed targets. Sand crunches under my boots as I pass too close to the Defender’s Course.  I wanted to commence training on it now, but for now I listen to my instructor and take my position behind the white line.

“Let’s see what I’m working with. All six knives. Go!” Garret shouts the last part.

With my left hand, I grasp my first dagger by the handle. I focus on the center of the target and take one long stride forward, leading with my right foot and release the knife from an overhand pitch. It spins through the air and strikes the target about five-inches to the right of the bulls-eye. Again and again, I throw. I throw until all six daggers are embedded in the wood plank. Two hit the center. Not bad. Not good either.

Ethan made three out of six.

We continue this way until it’s time for our lunch break. My arms are aching, but I keep my discomfort to myself.

In the cafeteria, I press my thumb on the identification pad and in response a food tray comes out of a slot in the wall. I don’t even bother to look at it because I know what will be on it. I take a seat at the third table on the left, across from Val, like every mealtime.

As I look around the lunch tables, I discover that no one is talking. Though Exalted aren’t known to be chatty, this quiet is unusual. I stock it up to the realities of the new training sessions and what they mean. We will soon be competing with one another in the most important events of our lives. The weight of the situation is physically pressing down on our shoulders. We don’t want the others to know how our progression is coming along, so we remain close-lipped. There is a silent code amongst fellow trainees to keep quiet about one another as well. I will never tell another trainee how Ethan is performing, and he will never gossip about me. It’s to be expected that our bond will grow stronger over the weeks to come.

After eating, we are allowed 30 minutes of free time to let our stomachs digest their contents. Hand-to-hand combat training will then begin.

Training with our peers in a regulated environment is nothing new. As children, until the specialized United Trials training begins, all Exalted are put through strenuous physical conditioning. Endurance. Speed. Strength Training. Flexibility. Our days are spent in the weight room or on a treadmill along with varying martial arts, kickboxing, and weapons training. Our bodies are conditioned to run like machines.

The sparring is always monitored and has never ended with major injuries. Minor injuries occur quite frequently though; bloody noses, bruised bodies, black eyes, a cracked rib or two on occasion. When we compete in the Second Trial that will change.

Suddenly, needing a break, I hurriedly finish my grilled chicken and vegetables. I leave without asking Val how her training went, even though I know she is dying to talk about it. Unlike most reserved Exalted, she likes to discuss the ins and outs of training. I think she secretly does this to get you to eventually open up, thus handing over coveted knowledge she’ll use to beat you with later. I have enough confidence in her to believe that’s not the case with me, but only time will tell.

I swing my legs over the bench seat and turn to leave all this tension behind. At the door, I show my tray to the cook citizen, but before I can leave, he has to verify that everything has been eaten and then make note of it in the computer. I scan my thumb on the exit identification pad. The citizen, never looking up at me, nods and dismisses me for my break.