Haze of Dusk (A trilogy) (9 page)

“And you are?” he asks, walking towards me. I bite my lip. He narrows his eyes, waiting for an answer. “Jud…” something knocks on my head halting me. I stare at my muscular hands. Not mine, not girly.
Holy shit, I let my feminine behaviors take over me.
I gulp down noisily. I want to beat myself for forgetting. This is hard…too damn hard. “Jorsay…” I whisper disappointed with my reality.

“And already you have caused so much damage on your first day.” He scolds. I partly pant. I touch my forehead feeling the bump of the script. I softly rub the slime that crawls down my skin. What was I thinking? For an instant I lost myself.
I don’t want this…I want to be a girl. I want to be Judyala.

“One thing
kid, do not mess around in my study time for if you do, your punishment will be a lot greater than words on your forehead. You comprehend me?” He threatens me in a deeper accent. I push a nod and discreetly look at Ramuso who stares intimidated by the instructor.
“For those of you who do not know me, I am Sorcerer Shorewen. For the next hour, I am going to be your Magic statistic instructor. For those of you who are new, in your desk will be a book,” everyone in the classroom pulls out a brown leather book with thousands of pages from their desk. On the cover of the book is a circle, inside there are lettering mark as, ʤ in which represents Doomsvell and the three possessors.

“For you
newcomers
,” he says with his eyes on me. His fierce look makes me nervous, still, I can’t help but analyze a bit more of him, he is a sorcerer, and has no point on his ears. I wonder where he could be from. “Let the book guide you. Take it with you to your dorms and study it. I dislike anyone who is behind, and if you are, I will personally make sure by the end of the day…
you-are
-
not
. Open the book to page three-hundred and fifty.” I open the book, sure, there are scriptures written, but the book doesn’t have numbers. I frown, and flip the pages one by one, trying to count to
350
. Ramuso’s elbow meets my ribcage. I halt and groan, avoiding drawing the instructor’s attention. He’s that type of instructor people easily fear.

“Wh
y the hell did you hit me!” I hiss at the little freak. I peek at Instructor Shorewen. A good-looking timid female is inquiring about the text. Probably flirting with him…I don’t blame her. Instructors are not meant to be sooo hot, not that I would know. I’ve been having the same instructors since my first years.

“Speak the number…” he says through his teeth. I scoff, of course. That's logical, especially in Doomsvell.
Well, in Duolic we have real books with real numbers—I’m no moron
. I say the number. The pages radically move to its destination. Again, I glance Shorewen’s way. The girls don’t stop asking him question, but he never flirts, even though many are older—eighteen and over—also very beautiful. He appears to be into his work.

Instructor Shorewen teaches
stealing attention. I’ve never met a lecturer as respected and loved by the ladies as he is. When he announces that the class is over, the girls head to him to ask ‘
essential’
questions. I walk behind my roommates, who rush out of the room. Shorewen’s eyes sight mine. I half-smile and bow down my head. I know his thoughts. He hates me already…all because of that little freak chaotic mess. Stepping out of the room I get shivers.
What an awkward sensation
.

“Prick,” Ramuso utters
to his friends. I want to walk away, leave them in their own world, but their glower makes matter interesting.

“Who?” I snoop. The three men look at me,

“Shorewen!
Did you see how he talked to Jorsay? What the bloody-hell is his problem? He thinks he’s so great that arse-prick.”   I grimace. I don’t think Shorewen said anything wrong. He’s simply a strict instructor, very intellectual for his young age.
“He’s not bad,” I say practically. The three of them glare at me.

“
What!” I murmur defenseless.

“Do you know how old he is? A person his age is supposed to be in the kcowls, with us. Anyhow, because he’s a little more powerful than us, the leaders made him an instructor. He didn’t have to do anything but
beg for arse,” I snort. It is obvious Ramuso doesn’t like him. Probably the little freak hates the fact that the handsome instructor stole his girl’s attention. Jealousy, something to avoid and deny; I will never commit such stupidity.

“Get over it, next year
we don’t have to take this class. That's if we survive. I can’t stand it either, seeing his face makes me sick. I hate how my many girls fall for his bad looks.” Onnet says. I press my lips together. I’m trying to hold my laughter.
What a bunch of morons. Don’t hate his good looks.
“You too…wow, well I have nothing against him.” I admit to get nasty faces from their part, but I don’t give a rat and walk away from them.
And these idiots are my companions…great.

“You’ll eventually figure it out
, kid. Soon, you’ll see who Khysso Shorewen is.” I freeze to hear that name. My mouth drops open and my heart bounces.
Did I hear correctly?
I twirl to meet with them. “Onnet…did y-you say…Khysso…Khysso the undying.” My pulse suddenly races, pushing my heart to my throat. Onnet nods confirming his name. I thrust my book to Ramuso’s chest and rush back to the room. I barge in, and without caring about anything but my stone, I stand in front of the upset man, “Khysso, give it back!”

-
7
-

Problematic

If I had any respect or admiration for him, it blasted out of my chest the instant I heard his name. I press my hands firmly on the desk, staring deeply at his bewilder expression. He stands, and glares at me, waiting for a reaction of my part. I bow down my head, inhaling strength to scream,
“give me back my stone,”
but as I look down, the polished oak desk reflects my face. Jorsay’s light eyes are dark by the seething in me. I compress my lips together. Angry at myself for letting rage take over me. I should hit myself hard. Why am I not thinking of the consequences, the danger I would bring upon myself and Srogeri if they discover who I am? I lift my head to come across a petrify Khysso. He doesn’t look mad. Just shock, almost at his will.

“It is Sorcerer Shorewen,” he corrects almost in a growl. I nod.

“
Yes, forgive me.” I murmur, I inhale a profound breath.

“Give you what back?
”
He’s not forgetful.
My luck…

“Umm… my sister talked about you… and well…I just thought…why not greet the legendary Khysso, and ask…for that thing.” I hesitate.
Excellent comeback Judyala.
He narrows his eyes. “Your… sister…” he repeats.

“Yes, her name is Judyala,” his stare is stiff. He lifts his bottom lip and steadily shakes his head not recalling my name. I chuckle.
Did he forget me already? That bastard.
“She said she lent something to you.” I add, but he still stares dense. There’s no surprise reaction— his nonchalant look makes me wonder if I’m the one mistaking. But no, his eyes are the same. His face is Khysso's…only older. How did I not recognize him right away? Since that day, his face penetrated in my mind.

“
Forgive me, apprentice Zayras, but I’ve never met your sister, and…I have not borrowed anything from anyone.” He assures. I scoff. I'm shock he’s denying knowing me. “You must have the wrong person. Now if you excuse me, I have some work to finish,” he stretches an arm, now pointing at the door.  I take in a deep breath. He must be lying. He can’t possibly forget me that quick. Perhaps if I tell him how we met. “I…ahg… sorry, this is a big world. I must’ve gotten the wrong Khysso.” I decide to follow his diversion, maybe, he really doesn’t remember me. Or maybe, he truly lies, that way he never has to give it back. But don’t think it’s over, Khysso. This has just begun, and I won’t give up until I get back what belongs to me.

I get out of the room grinding my teeth. I'm surprise
d Ramuso stands near the room talking to a kid his age. As soon as he sees me, he says his farewell to him and walks towards me. “Hey, are you alright?” He asks. I frown.

“Yes
, I’m alright…why…did you…wait for me?” I grimace. He widely smiles, a perfect white smile that goes perfect with his humorous personality, and beautiful eyes. “Thought you needed assistance. Don’t want you to get lost. So, what happened?” We stroll down the hall together. I’m touched by his friendliness.

“
Not much. Just that you were right. Khysso Shorewen is a
prick
,”
whatever that word means.
 

Corr walks toward us making me utterly nervous. The feeling he causes my body to feel isn’t n
ormal. My heart instantly races. My knees jiggle, and when his eyes meet mine, my cheeks turn on fire. The worst part is, I annoyingly giggle when he stands near me. We are in the castle’s combat arena that's located behind the castle, near the homes of the warriors. It’s where the warriors train daily. Physical training is for the men or any warrior. In it, we are blend— kcowls, and warriors—thousands of fighters battling one another, train by over a dozen instructors. Within our physical trainers include Corr, and Ikumus, the ones in command of training the kcowl members. 

Our first exercise includes running out of the arena and into the mounte
d grounds for at least one-hourglass. In groups of hundreds, we run with our trainers.  With the hot suns hitting us, training outside becomes bothersome, but more exasperated I happen to get as all the men lose their shirts exposing their sweaty bodies, given me something good to look at.  Still, it is Corr’s body that drives me into insanity. I pray these feelings leave me. My behavior is irrational, and if this continues, I’m going to have to ask to be moved to another dormitory.

The apprentices run in front
of me, although I try my best, my chest pounds and I drop to the ground breathing heavily— inhaling for air, but it is heat I consume. I’m ashamed for I'm the only one left behind. I’m seriously a useless girl when it comes to physical training. Corr runs to me and gives me his arm to grab.

“I can’t do this…” I say puffing out strongl
y, gulping for air. He chuckles. “You’ll get used to it. I promise,” his words are sweet. I lift myself up by grabbing his arm. I shake off my weakness. I can’t show him my limitations.

After running, we spend
an hourglass extending our battle movements, and weapon training—we head back to the arena. There, Ramuso and I are paired at Corr’s request. As I hold a white punch-guard, Ramuso uses his skills against me knocking me down numerous times. Every time Ramuso punches the guard, I squeak like a wimp, giving the fellows something to laugh about.  It’s my turn to kick and punch, and I think to be doing a pretty good job…for a beginner.

“Wow…you’re the weakest kid I’ve ever met. Hit harder!” Ramuso taunts me. He  holds the punch-guard with a hand, he’s motionless. I take his words in, and I smack the guard plenty of times, but by Ramuso’s gaping I can tell I’m doing an awful job. Arms take my hands from behind. I gust out a breath to see is Corr who holds me, his touch flushing me. He brings my hands up, and demonstrates me how my fighting position should be like.

“Stand firm.
Like this, fist tight,” he says near my ears, his breath smoothing my sensations. “Hit…like this…” he moves my hand, helping me punch straight, instead of all sloppy.
Corr is the best instructor I’ve ever known. He takes his time to show me how to punch, and kick— and he doesn’t stop until I have it correct. Yet, there’s a problem. I can’t take my eyes of his body, and because of that inattention, when I put down the punch-guard to stare at him, Ramuso’s hard fist accidentally meets my face.

I never thought the day would end, but finally, it arrives, and I'm stirred to see my room once again. It’s going to take some time to get used to the living arrangement. I just hope it’s soon. For our last physical class, enemy identification, I had no energy
, so Ramuso had to sustain me. I was relieved instructor Henson was all talk and no training. He would use magic, showing us illusions of the arclaw, and their weak spots.  Then, we pair, and practice. Fortunately, since we were the youngest sorcerers, and are in the same rank, I was paired with Ramuso. But Because of my exhaustion, Ramuso ended up doing most of the work, this time… I became his nightmare. Walking in the room, I throw my heavy body to my bed.

“What are you doing? You can’t go to sleep! You’re filthy. What about dinner?” Ramuso argues.

“I don’t want food…my muscles hurt…my eye hurt…everything…hurts…” I mutter falling asleep. “All-right boys, let’s do it!” I hear Ramuso shout. When suddenly someone snatches me by my arms and legs, and forces me to the shower. I struggle, trying to kick Onnet, or punch Ramuso, but they are strong. Osys, also an accomplice shouts, “
cold water
!” icy water rains down on me from above, instantly soaking my body and clothing. I’m screaming in panic as the freezing water hurts my skin. These men are cruel. Girls would never do that to one another. These boys are animals. But to make matters worse, they strip me naked, leaving me with no choice but to look at Jorsay’s body, something I’ve been trying to avoid, his personal parts makes me realize…my little brother isn’t a little boy after all.

As mean their plot
was, it surely calmed my muscles, and gave me back motivation. I’m angry, especially at that little freak Ramuso, but his outgoingness makes me forget the incident. Together the six of us head to the kcowls and ribbons mealroom. Meal time is from sunrise, to sundown three times a day. A jingle echo is our alert—if meals are avoided nobody gets a second chance to eat.

The mealroom is a spacious room with decoration similar to the castle. The ceiling
is high and uncovered bringing out a natural outside light. The room surpasses a capacity of over thousands.  The area has many oak octagon tables that fit seven people at most. There are a few rectangular tables that fit plenty of more people, regularly the ribbon crew sits together in groups of twenty.
What interests me the most is that the instructors don’t eat with the learners, but on the second floor on an open veranda where they can see all of our doings—watching us at all times. On the edges of the mealroom stand many sorcerers or wizards in a black robe. They are the castle’s keepers and are responsible for watching our behaviors. The war castle seems more like a prison than a training establishment.

“Wow, that’s looking nasty, sucks you can’t get someone to heal it…” Ramuso stares at my swollen eye disgusted. We head to the open food-counters for kcowl members. The mealroom has two separate food counter, the one for the ribbons is on the center, and the kcowls buffet is far north, on a dirty— hideous area. We pick up a round wooden tray split into two parts.

“Maybe
you should ask a ribbon to—”

“
Don’t even think about it,” Corr rapidly intervenes. “No healing. No magic unless given permission by the higher grounds. You know the rules Ramuso, stop giving Jorsay bad advice.”  Corr reprimands. He’s certainly a faithful apprentice.

I
stand by the wooden-food counter. Serving us are three smiley female sovys. I purse my lips. There is not much choice, and the stack of food doesn’t look appetizing. I gag; staring at it makes me lose my appetite. There are stack trays of a brownish paste, old greenish corn, hard slices of bread, and at last, the worst of all, a slippery foul meat. I let the weird girls serve me. I hurry back to the table—I didn’t want to be rude. “This looks disgusting.” I murmur lifting the spoon with slime. The six of us sit on a table of seven. Next to me is Corr, our shoulders brushing. But it seems I’m the only one noticing.  “Don’t complain and eat, it’s not that bad.” Ramuso eats with no difficulty. The slimy food falls out of the side of his mouth. I suppress the acid of my stomach that shoves itself to my throat giving me a bitter taste.

“Prisoners eat better than this. This corn is old…it’s green. That's
mold
!” I identify the nasty foam. Never in my life have I seen something so revolting. “People are about to go to war here, and this is how we’re fed!” I yell audible, drawing the people’s attention. “Take it easy boy, what’s your problem. Its food, or what…you want to eat like a ribbon, or an instructor, forget it…us kcowls and warriors get this. You get it, so live with it.” Onnet argues, as for Corr, he laughs at my behavior. I peek at the girl’s food. They have plates filled with well cooked meat, food that waters my mouth. I sit back down stun by the unfairness.
But…but I belong in the ribbon. I'm a girl in a boy’s body.
With shaking hands, I bite the slimy meat. The taste is vinegary. It’s not right.  I put down my spoon. “Has it always been this bad?” I question.

“Nope, last year we had a
good cook, but he died in the war. Now…our cooks are the eerie happy girls…so creepy how they always smile.” Ramuso says eating his food. I’m starving but there’s no room in my stomach for crap. But seeing the others silently eat, again, I give the meat a try, except, I immediately spit it out.

“That’s it!” I toss the spoon on the plate, splattering all around, and I stand on the table. “Can I have everyone's
attention please,” nobody messes with a hungry girl. The loud room falls into silence.
“We are
Fighters
. We are here to fight until
death
. Is it fair we have to eat like animals?
We
who are going to die in a reckless war. How dare they feed us crap!!” I shout energetically, waiting to hear applauses or appraises, but nobody dares to even look at me. My eyes move to Corr, who covers his face in humiliation.
“Kid…get down…do you have a death wish.” Onnet says through his teeth. I gaze around. Everyone gapes astounded, even the instructors look down pitying me. It’s when it hit me, I did something terrible. I'm in a deep mist— I swallow hard.

“I guess…nobody stands with me…” I
utter about to get down. 

“I stand with you!
” overexcited Ramuso shouts. He stands on top of the table; his frenzied mood worsens the situation. I shake my head, “forget it…” I hiss, assuring I’m done, but Ramuso just started.

“Give us better food! Give us better food!”
he chants loudly. Four of the castle’s keeper rush our way. I bury my hands on my face. I don’t blame him, but myself. I just don’t know what came over me, in Duolic, we fight for our rights. I guess… I over did it. “Oh-uh…we’re doomed.” Ramuso says plucky. I wheeze to see
she
also walks toward us, beautiful yet dangerous. Suddenly, a bottomless pain in my stomach stings me. If she personally came to get us, it must mean I did something dreadful. The guards drag us down and grab us from behind chaining our hands together. I’m humiliated—the guards take us to her.