Training the Warrior (20 page)

The morning was starting out in glorious splendor.
Sunrise on Fortress was a spectacular burst of colors most days. And today was
no different. However, the sun warmed the balcony quickly and in a short while
the heat would make her seek the coolness of a shadier spot. She rose, walked
to the edge and leaned against the solid stone barrier. Sounds coming from
across the wide practice field near one of the entrance gates drew her
attention.

Several women were gathered near the gate.
A wistful smile spread across her face. She couldn’t help it. From the vantage
point of her high balcony, Lydia had watched this scene many times over the
past few years. The females waited to greet their mates. Judging by their
numbers, a troop transport must have landed at the fortress compound. Warriors
were usually delivered directly there, not the spaceport. And many of the mated
ones were allowed to live close to it. This was their gate and no unmated males
were allowed near the area.

She delayed, curious to see their reunion.
It wasn’t long before a heavy gate swung open directly beneath her position and
a horde of warriors poured out of the citadel. They charged across the field,
some calling out to their mates, others howling like pack wolves as they ran
toward where their mates waited. The women greeted them with unrestrained
enthusiasm. The words “get a room” came to mind.

Lydia watched for a few seconds more before
turning away. Over the years, she’d seen many reunions from her balcony. This
one was no different. Their joy was beautiful and usually filled her with
happiness for them, but for some reason, her mood today was off. If she had to
pin a name to how she felt, she’d say restless. Her mind was preoccupied. In
fact, for several months, she’d caught herself daydreaming, mostly about a life
outside the sanctuary. Crazy fleeting images of family, children and a home
kept invading her thoughts. They were never of her past life on Earth, which
surprised her. And there was a male, warrior-type, who kept appearing in her
dreams, especially at night. She’d always wake up before clearly seeing his
face.

Though she went about her duties normally, she
spent most of her free time gazing out the windows or sitting quietly in the commons
garden. Humans back on Earth would say her biological clock was ticking down.
Use
it or lose it.
Perhaps it was time she mentioned her odd behavior to the head
mistress. The wise woman would know what to do.

Reluctant to leave the quiet solitude of
the balcony, Lydia slowly strolled toward the doorway leading back into the sanctuary.
Her room wasn’t far away. As she rounded a corner, a teacher dressed in a light
blue robe pounded on a door. It was Lydia’s.

“Teacher, I ‘m here.” The Tauran woman
startled at the sound of Lydia’s voice.

“Takoora sent me. She thought you’d want to
come to the blading section.”

Lydia frowned. Why would Takoora think such
a thing? Well, she had her dark blue robe on and her masks. Why not?

“Then let’s go see what’s so interesting.”

She followed the younger teacher down
several fights of stairs and they rushed along a corridor that lead to the blading
rooms. Lydia pulled up with a start when she saw an unusually large group of teachers
gathered in front of one of the side rooms. A loud roar reached her ears, and
she sprinted the rest of the way to join the women. Some had their masks off.
Many wiped away tears. Others wept openly.

“What’s happened?” Lydia searched the crowd
for Takoora.

“Lydia, come over here,” her friend called.

The teachers moved aside, letting her pass.
She found Takoora standing in front of the door. She had her white mask on and
her hood pulled over her head, but Lydia read the despair in her friend’s eyes.

“Are you training this one?”

“Yes, along with three other teachers.
We’ve done everything we can think of. Nothing is working on this one, Lydia.
His rage is untouchable. The head mistress has gone to inform his family we’ve
failed.” Takoora’s voice broke as she sobbed.

“Failed?” Lydia was stunned.
Failed?

They didn’t fail. The teachers never failed
the new blades—ever. It was unthinkable.

“Takoora, how can this be?”

“He bladed on a battleship before reaching
Fortress.”

“How long?”

“The blading took only three hours. He was
helped by a female on the ship, but he never came out of his rage. From what we
can tell, she didn’t do anything wrong…but we haven’t been able to bring him
back.”

“Oh no,” Lydia whispered.
This can’t
happen. We can’t let him die.

Without a second thought, Lydia grabbed one
of her masks and slid it on while raising her hood. She barged through the door,
her only desire was a determination to prevent a warrior from dying.

Once inside, she took stock of the
situation. The young warrior was shackled to the floor in the usual manner.
Three teachers, all wearing dark blue robes, huddled near the door the handlers
usually used. They motioned for her to join them. Takoora entered behind her,
and as her friend rushed over to the other teachers, Lydia held back.

The warrior growled and thrashed against
the chains. His forearms were encircled with wide metal strips, preventing him
from releasing his blades. From her years of studying the ancient histories,
she immediately understood the handlers considered the young warrior too
enraged to control his blades, but she couldn’t help wondering how painful the
restraints were for him.

Lydia tried to move as quietly as possible
and crept toward the male. She drew close enough to see him clearly. He was
larger than most warriors. His hair was jet black, his skin a light mahogany
color. And his eyes were familiar. The color was exactly the same as Kern’s,
light tan.

She stopped dead in her tracks. The reason
she knew what color his eyes were was because the warrior stared up at her and
he growled furiously. Lydia retreated. She rushed all the way to the wall,
several yards out of his field of vision. He’d attempted to track her as she
ran. Her heart pounded, not with fear but hope.

The warrior had seen her, really looked at
her even in his rage. Lydia grabbed her other mask, the white one. She wore the
black. A crazy idea formed in her mind, but she had to test it on him. Lydia
took off her black mask and replaced it with the white. Now she just needed to
see how he reacted.

Lydia drew in a deep calming breath while
mentally trying to fortify her courage. She strolled back to stand beside him.
He’d never stopped growling after she’d left, but now he glared up at her with
hatred burning in his gaze. He closed his eyes and roared so loud the room
seemed to vibrate. She ran back to the wall with her answer. The young warrior
was overcome by the rage, but his mind wasn’t lost. He recognized the
difference in the masks. It had to mean the teachers had reached him on some
level. The idea forming in her mind solidified into a plan. Maybe, just maybe,
all her years spent wading through dust-covered manuscripts might help this warrior.

The research she’d undertaken was
painstaking since she couldn’t actually read the Tauran writing, having to rely
on an audio-reader, which was meant to be used by sightless Taurans. Yes, there
was mention of a method that no Tauran female would ever dare try. Luckily for
Attor, she was human. Now if she could only convince the head mistress.

The handlers’ door opened. Dressed in her
white robe and wearing a white mask, the head mistress entered, followed by two
handlers. Another warrior waited in the doorway, his features hidden by the
shadows. The head mistress motioned for the four teachers to leave. Lydia
stepped aside as her peers rushed past her, their sobs clearly audible. Takoora
gave her a curious look as she passed. Lydia shook her head and stood her
ground.

“Lydia?” Mistress Breanne stood directly in
front of her.

Unlike the other brown-eyed females, her
green eyes gave away her identity. Without hesitation, she said, “I request a
chance to train this warrior.” It was her right to ask. The mistress could
grant or deny her petition.

“Two teams have tried. All have failed.
Young Attor suffers.”

Lydia rushed to add, “There’s another
method, which may help, Mistress Breanne. Please allow me to try. It can do no
harm at this point.”

The wise woman cocked her head. Lydia
crossed her fingers, knowing the head mistress considered her offer.

“His fate is decided,” the third warrior
interrupted, storming around the handlers to stand next to the head mistress.

Lydia held a tight rein on her tongue and
patience, refusing to acknowledge his presence. She did the only thing she
could think of that might possibly sway the older woman. Lydia fell to her
knees, bowed her head and raised her arms out to the head mistress.

“Don’t destroy this warrior. His rage can
be tamed. There is a way.”

Despite the roars coming from the young warrior,
she heard the other’s exasperated growl, but he didn’t protest in any other
way.

Mistress Breanne took Lydia’s hands and
urged her to stand. “Granted for one hour only, Lydia. If he still rages after
that time, Dharjen Taelor is duty bound to give him a warrior’s death.”

The warrior snarled with a vile curse and
stomped back to the doorway. He could rot there as far as Lydia was concerned.

The head mistress sidled closer to her, and
whispered, “Taming rage with outrage is considered a fabled method, Lydia,
never proven. Take care.”

Was there anything the head mistress didn’t
know? Lydia squeezed her mentor’s hands and whispered back, “Thank you.” She
walked to the young warrior, making sure she stood just out of his line of
sight.

The head mistress took charge of the room,
immediately sending the two handlers away. “Inform Dhara Laeness we’re trying
one last time. She’ll be notified of the result in one hour,” she called after
them.

She motioned for the disgruntled warrior to
move away. He retreated to a position against the wall near the handlers’ door.

“No matter what happens during the next
hour, you must not interfere unless the teacher asks for your assistance,” she
instructed. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.” His voice was harsh,
disapproving.

Lydia was confused. She’d thought she’d be
joined by another teacher or at the very least she’d be alone with Attor, but
she didn’t want to complain at that point. She’d gotten what she wanted—a
chance to help the young warrior.

Apparently satisfied the area was prepared
to her liking, Mistress Breanne headed to the other side of the room where the teachers
waited. They were crowded in the doorway, staring at Lydia as if she’d lost her
mind.

Takoora mouthed,
what are you doing
?

Lydia made a shooing motion with one hand,
telling her friend to back off. Thankfully, the head mistress herded them away
from the opening. She closed the door with a firm
bang
, leaving Lydia
alone with Attor and the other warrior.

Lydia turned to the warrior who’d be
Attor’s executioner if she failed. Refusing to look him in the eyes, she stared
down at his boots.

“You don’t have to stay.”

He growled viciously. “I’ve been ordered to
remain. You’re wasting time.”

Bastard.
She knew better than to speak the
insult. Warriors took things literally, and it could be a deadly mistake to
insult their mothers.

Disgusted, Lydia turned her back on him. She
took a deep breath, and said, “Then make yourself useful and remove the metal
bands from Young Attor’s forearms.”

“They’re there for your safety.”

The giant would-be murderer sounded
surprised, and maybe a little concerned, she thought. “The chains have held
larger warriors. I trust they’ll survive Attor, and I don’t want his blades
restrained. The metal bands are painful for him.”

The warrior stalked toward Attor,
muttering, “Insane females.”

She listened while he removed the bands
from Attor’s forearms and then went back to his post. As Lydia expected, Attor immediately
released his blades. The act was accompanied by an enraged roar.

She couldn’t delay any longer. The warrior
known as Dharjen Taelor was no doubt timing her. Lydia removed her mask and
threw back her hood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the warrior flinch.
His body tensed and she heard him take a deep breath.

He’s unmated. He shouldn’t be here. It’s
forbidden.

A spike of panic raced up her spine before
her common sense kicked in. It’d be difficult for him to scent her at that
distance and the room was undoubtedly filled with the scents of at least five
other females. It was more than likely he wouldn’t respond to her anyway, but
he shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t even be in that section of the citadel. Who
the hell did he think he was? A mental light bulb clicked on in her mind.
His
name.

The head mistress had referred to him as dharjen.
Only a son of the supreme chancellor carried that title.
Crap.
Which
meant Attor was probably…they were both royals, she realized. One quick peek at
Attor’s blades confirmed the fact. They were larger than most and had the
telltale re-curve. No wonder there was so much uproar.