The Girl Born of Smoke (19 page)

Chapter 9

It was only a slight surprise the day of the
awards ceremony when Tarana was told privately earlier in the day
before it began that she would be the recipient and to dress
appropriately. She pulled on her armor without bothering to clean
it or fix the dent from being kicked, and finally walked downstairs
to the room where the ceremony was being held.

Blue and silver-colored ribbons hung across
the ceiling and there were more people present than Tarana would
have expected, although Prisca and Roxanne were not so mysteriously
absent. Mostly others from the army, there were also a few people
from Ralinos sitting in the back of the room.

Tarana sat where instructed, in the first
row of seats and waited. When the room finally became quiet,
Kendall spoke for a few moments in the front of the room, followed
by a couple other people, but Tarana barely listened. Eventually,
her name was called and she walked up to the front of the room to
be presented with the medal. Kendall handed it to her with a nod
and she looked sullenly at him, then out at the audience, and
returned to her seat.

As she sat back down and the audience
awkwardly began applauding after a short pause, she realized she
was probably expected to make a speech. Instead, she slipped out of
the room as soon as people began to stand up and managed to avoid
any sort of conversation.

Desperate to get out of the stronghold for
awhile, she hurried to her room, tossed her armor onto her bed, but
left her sword buckled to her belt. Walking quickly downstairs, she
hurried out the main doors and followed the path into town. Finally
slowing her pace, she walked on the side of the road, under the
shade of the squat buildings that lined it.

It was a warm day, only mid afternoon and
the sun was blindingly bright in the almost completely cloudless
sky. She meandered through town, avoiding eye contact with people
and slipping through the side streets where it was less busy.
Trying to do anything but think, she didn’t even hear someone else
coming down the lonely side street behind her.

“Tarana!”

Tarana groaned and turned slowly to face the
approaching figure. “What do you want, Prisca?” she asked tiredly.
“Make it quick. I’m not in the mood for your games.

“Oh, this is no game.” Prisca grinned, but
her eyes were narrowed. The two girls stood a few steps apart.
Tarana’s dark hair hung around her shoulders, the cool breeze
blowing a few strands in her face. She shook it back impatiently.
Standing several inches taller, Prisca smirked as Tarana reached
for her sword. “Feeling threatened, my friend?”

Tarana glared and returned her hand to her
side, remaining silent. She noticed several people had stopped to
watch the confrontation and recognized three of them as other
soldiers in Roxanne's squad. Suddenly, Prisca swung a fist at her
head. Taken off-guard, Tarana ducked, but not soon enough. Prisca’s
bare fist grazed her forehead. Tarana jumped back, her fists
raised. “What the hell was that for?” she yelled, enraged. All
three of the soldiers stepped forward.

Prisca smiled victoriously. “You have got to
be kidding me, your mom even sends out guards to babysit you?”

Barely containing her anger, Tarana
furiously waved the soldiers away. “I told you before, Roxanne is
not my mother.” She turned to the soldiers. “And if you dare
interfere, I will personally kill you,” she said through clenched
teeth. Reluctantly, they did as they were told, although they were
still within a couple steps' reach. Prisca watched the proceedings
with a small smile. Infuriated, Tarana stepped toward her, fists
still raised.

“You spoiled brat,” Prisca said calmly.
“Everyone will be happy when I kill you. We’re tired of you getting
special treatment just because you're Roxanne's favorite. Everyone
knows I should have gotten that award today. I worked for it and I
deserved it and you stole it from me. My life was the army and now
I can’t even have that.” Her voice grew louder in anger.

“You’re just jealous,” Tarana said simply.
“I can't believe you're so worked up over some stupid award.”

Prisca swore viciously and swung at Tarana
again, but this time she was ready. Side-stepping the punch, she
grabbed Prisca’s wrist and using her momentum, drove Prisca to the
ground. Rolling to her feet, Prisca whirled toward her and punched
again. Deflecting the blow with her arm, she kicked out at Prisca,
catching her in the stomach. Prisca immediately doubled over, the
breath wheezing from her lungs. Seeing her opportunity, Tarana used
all of her force to elbow Prisca in the side of her head.

Thrown to the ground, Prisca was knocked
nearly senseless. Catching her breath, she grinned up at Tarana,
laughing. Driven even further into her fury, Tarana finally drew
her sword, pointing its sharp tip at Prisca’s fallen body. The
soldiers watching immediately rushed forward, but Tarana slashed at
them, dangerously close to their faces. They reluctantly drew back
once again, shouting at Tarana.

“Looks like I win,” Prisca giggled,
squinting her gray eyes at the overhead sun.

“Can’t you just admit defeat?” Tarana
growled, prodding Prisca’s exposed neck with the sword.

Prisca closed her eyes, sighing. “Poor,
stupid girl. You really don’t get it, do you? I've already
won.”

Anger coursed through Tarana’s body. Dimly
aware of the crowd’s yelling, Tarana thrust downward, piercing
Prisca’s throat. Red blood spilled out, flowing onto the street and
pooling in the cracks and notches. Arching her back, Prisca opened
her eyes wide and gasped for air, a gurgling noise escaping her
throat.

With a feeling of release, Tarana wiped the
sword off on her leather boot and sheathed it. She glanced up from
Prisca’s dying body to a scene of shocked faces. When they met
Tarana’s cold stare, the onlookers quickly backed away and
continued on their way. She became aware of the stinging pain of a
wound. Reaching up to feel her forehead, she felt the sticky
wetness of blood. Deciding it didn't feel serious, she shrugged it
off.

The three soldiers ran up to her. “Tarana,
are you alright?” one of them asked worriedly. She dully wondered
if he was worried for her or for himself. She decided on the
latter.

“I think you should sit down. You don't look
well.” Another of the soldiers put a hand on her shoulder. She
realized dully that he was correct; she did not feel well at all.
Her head hummed with pain and her stomach felt queasy. To the
soldier's evident surprise, she allowed them to lead her over to
the curb of the street. Sitting down suddenly, Tarana groaned and
closed her eyes. The sun seemed horrendously bright and hot. Her
face was damp with sweat and the cool breeze made her shiver
uncontrollably.

One of the soldiers kneeled down. “What’s
wrong?”

“I…don’t know.” Tarana groaned again. The
wound on her forehead was throbbing with pain. The man stood back
up and looked uneasily at his comrades.

“Tarana,” he said slowly, “is that your only
wound?” She only managed a nod. The guards exchanged glances and
one hurried back over to Prisca’s body. He returned a moment later
and said something she could not understand. She opened her eyes to
see what the problem was. Everything looked gray; she could barely
see the soldiers soundlessly gesturing frantically at each other.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and toppled over.

“We’ve got to do something!” one of the
soldiers yelled, glancing over at the now-unconscious Tarana.

Two of the guards puzzled over the ring
Prisca had been wearing on her middle finger. Sloppily made, the
metal ring had no design or detail. It was a simple strand of gray
metal with several sharp shards on the top. One of the guards held
the ring up to his eye and immediately pulled it away, eyes
watering. “What in the world…that thing smells horrid!” He blinked
rapidly, his eyes stinging. “Is this some sort of magic?”

The other soldier shook his head. “I think
it's poison.” Taking the ring, he held it well away from his face.
“See this?” He pointed at the sharp side of the ring where a milky
substance stained the metal shards. “That's got to be poison.”

The soldier kneeling next to Tarana glared
at the others. “That’s all well and good, but what are we going to
do? You do realize that Roxanne will kill us all if we let Tarana
die while in our care, don’t you? And that's if General Kendall
doesn't get to us first for not stopping this.”

“Well, what
can
we do?” The soldier
holding the ring shook his head. “It's bad enough that we let the
fight go that far. And now Prisca's dead and Tarana's probably on
her way as well? I never wanted any part of this.”

The third soldier stepped threateningly
toward him. “Well you seem rather cheerful to throw away your
life.”

The soldier scoffed. “Are
you kidding? I’m not sticking around here to be at the mercy of
Captain
Roxanne.” He threw the ring to the
ground. “I’m out of here. I didn't join the army just to babysit
some kid. You guys can stay if you want, but I’m rather fond of my
life.” Turning, he strode away, merging with the crowd.

The two men looked at each other
uncertainly. One reached down and touched Tarana's neck, feeling
for a pulse. He shrugged after a moment and stood up. “Well I’m not
going to stick around and get blamed for this mess,” he finally
muttered. “If she's not already dead, she will be soon.” He strode
quickly away, not looking back.

The last soldier stood for a moment longer.
Noticing that her chest no longer appeared to be rising and falling
with each breath, he knelt down and touched her forehead. The wound
had stopped bleeding, although it was still wet with fresh blood.
Biting his lip and looking in the direction the other two soldiers
had gone, he sprang to his feet and sprinted in the opposite
direction, toward the stronghold.

Tarana felt herself
falling. She gazed around at the darkness surrounding her, seeing
nothing. The air felt stuffy and warm as she tumbled down toward
her fate.
Her eyes wide, a dim glow became
slowly visible around her. As the light became brighter, the
feeling of falling disappeared. She quickly stood up and found
herself in the middle of a grassy, sunny courtyard with young boys
running around her, their mouths soundlessly opening with shouts
and yells, but the courtyard remained eerily silent.

The place looked slightly familiar, but she
had no idea why. Paths paved in smooth pebbles wound their way
around the small buildings lining the courtyard. A few older men
walked in groups in and out of the buildings, glancing over at the
younger boys occasionally and smiling.

Growing increasingly confused as no one
seemed to notice her standing by herself, she noticed a small
blossoming tree standing off to the side, partially leaning over
the buildings. When a breeze ruffled the leaves, it sent
lavender-colored petals swirling through the complex of
buildings.

Walking hesitantly toward the tree, she
noticed an old man sitting at the base of the trunk, his face more
wrinkled than any she had ever seen before. As he glanced up at
her, startled, she saw he had pale blue eyes, almost silver in
color, which stared out from under the folds of wrinkled skin. He
stood more quickly than she had imagined possible for a man of his
age and his white eyebrows curled downward in anger.

“You should not be here,” he said forcefully
and she found that she could hear his voice quite clearly as it
echoed across the otherwise silent courtyard.

Tarana blinked. “But I-”

“Leave. Now.” He grabbed hold of her
shoulder and spun her around.

She attempted to pull away from his grasp,
but found herself unable to. She squirmed uncomfortably and he
tightened his grip. “I don't understand!” she cried out.

Without answering, he shoved her down into a
stream that had not been there only a moment before. The shallow
water swallowed up her body as she frantically thrashed around.
Although she could no longer feel the man's hand on her shoulder,
she could not figure out which way was up. Everything around her
was blue. With a sudden realization, she realized it was not the
murky blue of water, but the clear blue of sky.

Blinking, she found herself staring up at
the sky overhead. She gasped for breath. The ground beneath her was
rough and uncomfortable. She heard a screech and laughter.
Something thudded painfully against her shoulder, in the same spot
the man had gripped it moments earlier. Rolling her head over, she
saw several children, one of whom had apparently just kicked her.
She groaned, her entire body aching. The children screeched again
and scattered, running away.

Rolling over, Aurora vomited on the street,
her head swimming. She slowly raised herself to her feet, stumbling
as the world appeared to lurch before her. She braced herself
against a nearby building, her hand clutching the wall. As her
vision calmed, she slowly stepped over Prisca’s lifeless body and
began walking back to the stronghold.

The moment Tarana entered the building, she
knew something was amiss. People stared at her as she passed by and
edged out of her way. Wondering just how terrible she looked, she
glared and trudged up to her room, throwing open the door. To her
surprise, Roxanne was already in there, gazing out the window. She
spun around when she heard Tarana walk in, looking furious at the
interruption. When she saw who it was, her mouth dropped open.
Tarana noticed with amusement that it was the first time she had
ever seen Roxanne so shocked.

“What are you doing in here?” Tarana
grumbled, trying to hide her amusement.