Page 24 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 24- SHADAE

“D on’t say anything,” he grumbled. “And by the Gods, don’t ask any questions. Just nod your head, kiss his ass, all that shit.”

I glanced sideways at the man, slowly. The scepticism on my face must have been painfully clear.

“What were you expecting, girl? A badge of honour?”

Obviously not. I’m not delusional.

I remained scowling at him.

“Wipe that expression off your face, right now, before we go in there. Do you want to lose this post after you were just appointed?”

I turned away from him. I had hardly expected this endeavour to be simple, but it would have been preferable had the Commander been tolerable.

I had been recruited as a tracker just days ago. They had come to inspect the Vessels, the ones who had passed the ‘health checks.’

Ha. Checks which translated to ‘those not on the brink of death’ more like.

I had volunteered myself for consideration, almost immediately after my brothers and I had been transported to Vasara’s draining chamber, eighteen months ago. I had been waiting since then, hoping I would be chosen.

A tracker meant freedom from being a Vessel, an income, and a warm bed to sleep in. In exchange, we were bound by a Curse that forever tied us to the role, the role that required us to hunt down other sorcerers. The Curse ensured we would not, that we could not run from it. Applied by a Curser, a class four Acciperean, working for the Crown.

Likely by force as well.

The Curse of Servitude. One of the strongest, and hardest to break.

Still, I had no intention of running.

My two younger brothers had despised me for it, yes, but it was the only way. The only way I could think of, to get them out.

I would get them out.

I lowered my head, avoiding the Commander's gaze and glancing at my hands. The brash white of the uniform struck harshly against my dark skin. This long white coat. These golden buttons and shoulder panels, framed by crimson. These slight and small intricate chains hanging down the shoulders like tear drops. These pants, as dark red as blood. The illusion of purity. The illusion of purification.

I swallowed uncomfortably.

The Commander turned behind him as another woman approached. Another tracker. She shook her head no. He closed his eyes for a second and turned back to speak to those gathered.

“I don’t want to hear a single word from any of you. If you even think about talking, just think about my foot shoved up your ass and that should bring you to your senses.”

I couldn’t hide the look of bafflement on my face.

“You.” He glared at me. “One more look like that and I’ll personally ensure you are escorted back to your charming quarters, permanently.”

I nodded in confirmation, reluctantly resetting my facial expression, something I often found difficult to do.

The doors opened in front of us, and we, a band of around fifteen people were led into the Council chamber. Someone strolled by us, having just been dismissed. An apothecary it seemed, clutching at a vial.

The room was as vast and spacious as I had heard. I couldn’t help but marvel at the openness of it, the amount of distance between everyone within it. I managed to do it with a straight face this time, however.

We all bowed, as we had been instructed to.

“Your Highness,” the Commander said.

In front of us sat the Prince, at the head of the table. He looked pale, sickly almost. His arm was hung in a sling. He leant forwards against the table in a way that meant he was looking at us from under his brows rather than directly at us. Other men were seated around him, Members of the Council, I presumed.

I drew my gaze back to the Prince.

It must be nice, to have such injuries treated by an apothecary.

I couldn’t say I felt any pity for him, despite how unwell he appeared.

“Commander,” the Prince said quietly. At his acknowledgment, the Commander rose, and we followed.

“We have an urgent mission for you, Commander Cheadd,” another man said. He was seated nearest to the Prince, his dark hair like the night against the Commander’s bright gold.

“We are at your service, Sir.”

“A group of sorcerers attacked His Highness yesterday,” he explained.

I took all the strength I had not to react to that.

“May I offer my sincerest condolences,” the Commander said, “I hope His Highness recovers quickly. Rest assured we will do everything we can to capture the culprits.”

Kiss his ass indeed. Just follow your lead, you could have said.

“We expect swift results, Commander, this was a direct attempt on the Prince’s life, it cannot go unanswered or unpunished,” the dark-haired man stated.

“Where was His Highness attacked?” the Commander asked.

Another man interjected, “You are not privy to that information, Commander. We can tell you what we know of their abilities and appearance but—"

The Prince raised his hand, silencing the second man. “Fargreaves, it will be rather difficult for the Commander to do his job without such information.”

“But, Your Highness, we cannot risk—"

“You said it yourself,” the Prince sounded exhausted, “the risk has already reached unprecedented levels.”

The Prince turned to face the Commander. “At Jurasa’s border,” he answered.

The Commander straightened up. There were even a few murmurs of surprise from the others who had accompanied us. The Prince travelling that far out was definitely unusual, I gathered, not from my own limited knowledge, but from their reactions.

If the Commander was perturbed at the location being so close to his home Kingdom, he did not show it.

“And their appearance? Their abilities?” he asked, curtly.

“Accipereans. Several are dead, several of them escaped, including a woman who was leading them, short, dark haired. I did not see their faces, they were all dressed in black, masked,” the Prince said sedately.

Accipereans? That there were enough of them both free and alive to band together to launch such an attack, it seemed impossible.

“We will begin the search right away, Your Highness.”

“You have two weeks,” Fargreaves said, “We want a full report afterwards, and we expect results.”

The Commander nodded but did not move.

The Prince stood slowly. Even in his wounded and withdrawn state, there was a presence about him that could not be denied. He looked like a pale ghostly God. I supposed that was apt considering he was worshipped as one by the large majority of people.

“The matter that we discussed last month, Commander, do you have an update?” the Prince asked him.

The Commander cleared his throat and for the first time appeared phased.

“Apologies, Your Highness, the tracker we sent out to retrieve the information...did not return.”

Ahhh, I understood. The message that had been delivered to the Commander just moments before this meeting, the nod of no, was about this tracker.

“I see,” the Prince said wearily. “I take it you have found a suitable replacement for your ranks.”

The Commander turned towards me and beckoned me forwards with his hand. I gave him a quizzical look. He gave me one that instantly reminded me of the promise he'd given in the hallway.

I resumed a neutral facial expression, to the best of my ability and stepped forwards.

“Recruit seventy-eight. Shadae Warlow. Twenty-five years of age. Darean. Navigator. Originally from Zeima. Vessel for eighteen months. Passed all the health and physical requirements necessary.”

“Has she been initiated?” the Prince asked, still looking at the Commander.

The Commander nodded in the direction of my wrist. Understanding his silent instruction, I shifted the sleeve of my clothing up to reveal the mark of the Curse of Servitude all trackers were branded with.

The Prince looked at me briefly, as if I were no more or less interesting than the clouds passing by the window.

“You understand what this mark means?” he said to me.

That I am forever bound to your ugly soul.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And what will happen if you dishonour your oath?”

There’s nothing honourable about it.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I dipped my chin in false acquiescence.

“Good.”

I was suddenly overcome with the realisation that any one of us could possibly kill him. Yes, it would mean our certain death, and likely the death of every tracker in this room, but still, it was possible, and it would be so quick. He looked like an injured bird. A beautiful, small, fragile thing one of us could so easily snap in an instant.

I mentally shook myself from the thought.

I can’t die yet. I have people to protect.

I placed my arm back into position.

“Why her?” the Prince asked the Commander.

The Commander answered instantly. “She is weak, her reserve is low. She has enough power that she will be helpful to us, but she is of little use to you as a Vessel, Your Highness.”

Are you trying to make sure I get sent back there!? Weak? Reserve is low? What a wonderful way to convince the Prince of my suitability.

But it was true that my ability – a Navigator, was one of the most common, and least powerful of all Darean abilities. I had never been superiorly skilled at commanding my sorcery, and of course, had never really seen a need to improve my skills, since doing so only made my capture more likely.

So much for that, remaining weak to remain safe didn’t work at all.

I silently chuckled to myself at the thought.

“Is something amusing, recruit seventy-eight?” the dark-haired Councilman asked.

Fuck.

The Prince looked at me with the same disinterest as before. The Commander with the promise that his foot would most certainly be up my ass after this meeting was finished.

“Do you disagree with the Commander’s assessment?” the Prince asked.

“No, Your Highness. He is correct, I am not” – I cleared my throat –"overly skilled.”

“Are you sure she is the right choice, Commander?” Fargreaves sounded suspicious.

“I am, Sir.”

The Prince looked at me for a few more moments. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered what he was planning. His stare was so convincingly penetrative I could have believed he'd discovered I’d been considering murdering him just minutes before.

“Then you are dismissed,” the Prince said.

The Commander bowed, we did the same and followed him out of the doors.

Once they were closed behind us, and we were left alone in the equally spacious hallway, one of the trackers spoke.

“Accipereans,” they said, an air of disbelief evident in their tone.

“That many?” the woman who had approached the Commander beforehand added.

“It doesn’t matter. We do what we have always done. We find them, and we bring them here,” the Commander replied.

“But…Accipereans are far more powerful than we are.”

“Do you have an alternative plan? By all means…why don’t you stroll in there and tell His Highness you don’t think you’re fit for the task? Fancy going back to your cell?”

“No but—"

“But nothing, you follow my orders, you do as I tell you and you remember”– he pointed to his own wrist– “what the consequences are if you do not.”

A solemn silence filled the air.

“We will discuss our plans at noon in the usual place, until then, do as you please, you,” – he poked my shoulder unceremoniously – “come with me.”

He walked off and the others dispersed. I contemplated ignoring his request but thought better of it.

After following him for a while, we entered a room, a room that appeared to be a base of some sorts for him.

He shut the door, walked around me, and slapped me in the face.

I clasped the side of my cheek in shock. It was by far the first time I had been hit, but it was the least expected of all the blows I had received since arriving at this dreaded Palace.

“Are you dense?” he asked me.

“I—"

“You are lucky, extremely fucking fortunate that the Prince was clearly exhausted today. Because I am telling you.” He pointed at me. “If he hadn't been, you would have been interrogated for far longer on your little fit of laughter.”

“It was—"

“Fucking ridiculous, that’s what it was. Childish and arrogant. You won’t last two days in this role if you carry on acting impetuously. This isn’t even the difficult part. You’re going to have to fight other sorcerers, kill them, even as they beg for their life. You’re going to have to do whatever the fuck they ask you to, and all of it with a straight face, not even a twitch, do you hear me? A straight face. Are you ready for that? Because it doesn’t seem like you are to me.”

I removed my hand from my cheek, still reeling in confusion, still able to feel the prickling burn of where his hand had struck my skin.

“I...” I cut myself off. It suddenly felt wrong, and incredibly futile to try and lie in front of this man.

I swallowed. “I will do what I’m instructed to.”

“Will you? You don’t fill me with much confidence.”

Do I need to?

But still, I tried to reassure him.

“I will,” I said, more assertively this time.

“Why did you volunteer?” He crossed his arms.

The question confused me. “For the same reason everybody does?”

“You think everybody has the same reason for volunteering?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Being a tracker is the only way out of being a Vessel.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, clearly unsatisfied with my answer.

“I have a reason,” I finally said.

He squinted. “Everyone says that, but sometimes, their reasons aren’t enough. I’ve seen plenty of recruits come and go over the years. I’ve been a recruit for thirty-two now, Commander for eight of those. I’ve seen people die on the job within weeks, go mad, try to escape, do all sorts of shit. They thought they had their reasons too, and they thought they were enough. Enough to do what needed to be done. Enough to train as hard as possible, to fight sorcerers far more powerful than themselves. Enough to ward the guilt and the fear away.”

My face fell. “Is this the motivational speech you give to everyone once they start their role?” I asked him.

“Only the ones I think need to hear it.”

Nobody needs to hear this.

“It won’t happen again,” I reassured him, unsure if I was correct. In fact, I was now unsure of everything. Unsure as to whether or not I was even up for this task.

“You’re right, because His Highness won’t be so distracted again. You better hope he doesn’t reflect too hard upon your behaviour and decide to punish you anyway.”

I creased my brows in confusion…would the Prince do that? I suppose it seemed possible.

“Now get out, come back here at noon.”

I stood there for a few moments, internally debating whether I should ask the question hovering in my mind.

“What is it?” He sounded impatient.

“The other matter… that the Prince discussed, the one the other tracker didn’t return from. Is there a way I could help with that?”

The sooner I advanced the ranks of the trackers, the more I would earn, and the more I earnt, the faster I could acquire the amount of money necessary to bribe some of the overseers into letting my brothers escape.

I had heard rare instances of this happening, most of the time, of course, the overseers responsible were caught and killed, but on the rare occasion, they were not. If I had enough money, I could find out which of them had successfully conducted these underhanded deals, and hopefully make the risk to their life seem insignificant in proportion to the sum I offered them.

The Commander scoffed. “You’re very keen to die quickly, aren’t you? You have a lot to learn and a lot more to prove before you can be involved in missions like that.”

I raised my head. “Then I will. I will learn. I will prove myself and I will do what I need to do.” I paused and added. “With a straight face, of course.”

The Commander looked me in the eye. “You need to kill that part of you that wants to fight back, not fully, but just enough you don’t fight back at inappropriate moments, do you understand?”

I nodded yes.

The Commander was silent in thought for a moment.

His face resumed its usual hardness “Do something like that again and I will happily kill you. I’ve ended the lives of many sorcerers, yours will be no different, and if your death means protecting the lives of the other far more reasonable and level-headed trackers here, then I won’t think twice about it.”

“Understood,” I said flatly. “If I do anything wrong either you, the Prince, another sorcerer, or this curse will kill me.”

He shook his head in disapproval at my reply. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, and that’s the very last time you will act that way around me, or the others. I mean it. Kill that part of you, or someone else will kill all of you.”

I ground my jaw in annoyance and turned around to leave. I deliberately slammed the door on my way out in anger.

I grimaced at my own action. Yes, that was rather childish, but I couldn’t stomach the thought.

I’d already been forced to mellow, make myself meek and quiet for the sake of the ban on sorcery, then again as a Vessel, and now again as a tracker. I could never truly be anything other than docile. It was like being unable to tap into a part of your soul, unable to scratch an itch, and the longer it went unscratched, the more it demanded to be, the more it built up like an inferno I could not douse with water.

I sighed in the hallway. I tried to calm down. I knew this was the price for living in this world as a sorcerer. To never truly know yourself, never truly be yourself.

It’s only that I didn’t know if I could bear to pay it forever.

But for my brothers, and for now, I would.

For them, I would pay that price, and a thousand others.

For them, I would become a murderer.