EXALTED (An Exalted Novel) (6 page)

“Where did you go?” Val whispers to me as I go to stand next to her.

“I went for a walk,” I lie to her. The less I say the better at this point.

“Pair up!” Garret hollers at us. Thankfully he ends any chance Val has to question me further about my whereabouts.

We spend the first hour reviewing yesterday’s session. Then we move on to disarming an attacker with a knife. There’s a way to twist the attacker’s knife hand and steal the blade away. Then with one quick down stroke, slice through the throat or jam the butt of the knife into the temple. It’s very brutal, but very efficient. I prove to be very good at this particular maneuver.

Grunts and huffs from my fellow trainees momentarily fill my mind and keep me focused on the exercises instead of on the Exalted marauder from the cornfield. I’m making Val weary from the force I’m putting into countering her attacks, each time disarming her instantly. When it’s my turn to attack her, she struggles to disarm me. She even completely fails to do so several times.

I sneak several quick looks in Ethan’s direction. He seems to be holding up pretty well against Az. His movements are swift and precise. He notices me watching him, and I hurriedly shift my gaze to Kinah, who is overpowering a girl named Adira. Adira falls to the ground over and over again. Kinah spares the girl nothing and shows no signs of letting up.

Before finishing for the day, we give a few blows to the punching bags that line the back wall. We then do our stretches to cool down. 

Val and I walk back to our dorm together. She complements me by saying, “You’re becoming stronger in training. What’s gotten into you?” She looks sideways at me, and then adds, “I’ll take some, whatever it is.”

What I should say to my best friend is,
I was ambushed and I failed miserably. I need to get better fast.
What I actually say to her is, “I guess the patrol got me ready for what’s to come . . . and as much as I hate to admit it, what Az said at dinner gave me the motivation to try harder.” This is partially true so I’m not actually lying to her.

When we reach our room I tell Val to go ahead and take first shower again even though it’s my turn. I say, “I’m going to go up to my parents apartment and then have dinner with them in the United’s cafeteria tonight.”

“You’re going to throw me to the wolf?” she asks. Then she adds, “I’m talking about Kinah.”

“Sorry?”

“Fine.”

* * *

Dinner outside of the trainee’s cafeteria is permitted once every other week. This is much more than the twice a year we were allowed at a younger age. Some trainees grow so accustomed to not seeing their parents over those years, that when they are finally allowed dinner once every other week with them, they choose not to join them.  By then we’ve learned to rely only on ourselves. So consequently parents become just a source of ranking or status to those trainees.

I’ve always taken advantage of my time allotment with my parents. They are wise and have much experience in this life as an Exalted. I’ve learned a great deal from them, and there’s also something else that keeps bringing me back to them. I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s something from my childhood that I can’t recall. Every now and then I remember snippets of when I lived with them. Things were different then, but again, I’m not sure how.

With the strange dream about my father having occurred last night and the incident with the Exalted marauder this morning, I feel like I need to see them today. I also want to see if my father and mother know anything about what happens to the Taken
after
they’re taken. I want to know if they’ve ever seen a marauder. There are so many things that I’ve never asked them. There are so many things I’ve never thought about before.

Once Val leaves, I take my time showering and redressing in a simple black fitted tank and black shorts, like usual. I sweep my mane up into a messy bun and finish by lacing up my standard issue black boots.

My parents’ apartment is on the 7th floor of the same building I live in. I ascend the stair in the empty stairwell two at a time. Once reaching their floor, I take a right and then a left at the first corridor. Theirs is the first apartment on the left. I knock.

My mother’s face remains somber, but I see a glint of something in her eyes as she swings the door open wide and welcomes me back into my old home. It still smells the same as it always has. I breathe in the familiar scent. I will never forget that smell of lemons and menthol.

My mother sometimes, well a lot of times, sneaks lemons back from her patrols in the fruit orchards. She says she likes the way the lemons make her water taste. The menthol comes from the cream my father uses to soothe his aching muscles. Life as an Exalted has a tendency to wear the body out sooner than a regular citizen or an Ambassador.

One of the things I remember, from my childhood here with them, is that I hated it when my father would take out that blue jar of menthol rub. I would run into my room and hide under my bed. It’s strange that I don’t have the same reaction now . . . or any reaction to it.

“So good to have you join us tonight. Will you be eating with us as well?” my mother asks. Her short brown hair is the same color as mine. It frames her delicate features in a way that makes her seem almost childlike. She shuts the door behind me and takes a seat next to my father on their couch. They sit close to one another, thighs touching. They wait for me to respond.

I want to rush into all the questions I have before we go into the cafeteria with dozens of listening ears. I start out slowly with a little polite conversation. “Yes, I thought I would. It’s been two weeks now since I last ate with you.”  I find a chair to sit in and tuck my feet underneath me. And as casually as possible, I ask, “So, did you both hear about the Taking the other day?”

It’s my father who answers. “We did, but it was not in our area. I suppose the Ambassadors are panicked. We had trainees in your year assigned to patrol this morning. This has never happened before.”

I nod. “I was on patrol this morning in the cornfields outside the East Gate.”

“Why, isn’t that where the citizen was taken from?” My mother’s voice rises slightly, almost as if she’s scared, but that can’t be. Only Ambassadors get scared.

“The Ambassadors want more Exalted patrolling. They’ve made it part of our training. It’s pretty dull, though. Walking up and down those endless rows.” I don’t tell them what really happened because they’ll be forced to report it.

My father reaches over and pats my mother on her arm. I have always noticed that they show more affection than any other United couples in the Republic. I briefly wonder if my United will ever pat my arm like that.

No, I have to quit wondering about things to come. I need to know about the present, so I decide to ask my parents about more sensitive things. “Have either of you ever seen a marauder or been there when there was a Taking?”

My father clears his throat and shoves himself out of his seat. “Enough about this, let’s eat.”

So we leave to eat, and I am left with unanswered questions . . . so many unanswered questions.

It’s a new day with the same schedule. At the end of breakfast, the two medical citizens pass out the Pump. While they make their rounds, I think back to last night. I was so consumed with figuring out how to fool the medical citizens and other trainees into thinking I swallowed the vitamin, that I barely got any rest. However, sitting here now, I realize it was all a wasted effort. Everyone is so accustomed to us eagerly taking the Pump that we’re not even monitored. After all, why would an Exalted not want to take something that will increase their strength?

I place the purple pill in my palm and act like I am tossing it into my mouth. I take a hefty swig of skim milk to wash it down. Then I lean down to scratch my ankle and slip the supposed “capsule of control” into my sock. It was too easy.

Weapons training passes quickly today. We practice long-knife and dagger throws directed toward the hanging dummies. We aim for their heads, necks, and stomachs. My determination and focus increases as I think about the Exalted marauder that surprised me. I am using the experience of his effortless defeat over me to fuel more power into my training sessions. I will never place first if I fall so easily in the Trials.

Garret advances us to a front roll and release. On my first attempt, my blade lands in the dummy’s shin, missing its intended target. Ethan’s precision has decreased with the addition of the roll as well. We practice repeatedly, improving with each throw. Just when we think we are mastering the exercise, Garret launches what he calls “precision motivators” at us while we dodge, jump, and duck. Basically, he’s throwing rocks at us, which greatly increases the difficulty of hitting the specified part of the dummy’s anatomy. While throwing those “precision motivators” at us, Garret shouts the name of the body part he wants us to hit. “Head!” “Throat!” “Stomach!”

I get hit with the rocks more times than I’d like to admit.

Garret drills us for hours until we run out of time. He finally says, “Enough. Cool down . . . I expect better tomorrow.”

Ethan sits next to me on the cool floor. He’s breathing heavily as am I. Between huffs, he says, “You have a little blood on your chin.” He motions to his own chin, demonstrating where I can find the injury he’s speaking about.

Feeling for the spot on my chin, where it unfortunately met with a nasty little stone, I find what I’m searching for. My fingers come away with a smudge of red. I wipe it on my black shorts, and then I pull up the shoulder of my tank to wipe away the rest of the blood.

“Thanks,” I tell Ethan.

“No problem. Tilt your head back so I can see if you’ll need stitches.”

I lean back and look at the metal ceiling that’s lined with rafters and lights. The subtle action makes me strangely dizzy, but I wait for Ethan’s assessment. His warm fingers run along my jaw line as he inspects the wound, but he quickly pulls them back. His touch was familiar and new at the same time.

Garret interrupts the intimate moment by yelling at us. “Quit babying her and cool down!” He slaps Ethan on the back of the head.

My friend hastily scoots away from me to start stretching. When Garret’s out of earshot, he whispers, “Just a scratch. You’ll live.”

I try to relax and let the cool down work its way through my body, but the drumming of my heartbeat takes longer to slow than it normally does. I feel as if my heart will literally race out of my chest. I quickly get into a sitting position, pull my knees to my chest, and tuck my head between my legs, hoping this will help the dizziness subside.
What is making me feel like this?
I wonder as I take deep breaths.

Our instructor thinks I’m ignoring him and yells at us again. “I said cool down! Now!”

Reluctantly, I lean back over into a stretch to appease Garret. While sitting in a straddle, I reach out, drop my forehead to a knee, and grab my boot. Alarm bells ring in my head as I look up at my foot and remember that I never took the Pump out of my sock. I reach for the other foot now contemplating what to do with it. When I return to the first foot, I pass my fingers over my sock to make sure the pill is still concealed. I have never heard of anyone not taking the Pump or what the punishment would be if they were discovered.

Then it dawns on me.
Could not taking the Pump this morning be why I’m feeling strange?

After collecting our knives, Garret, Ethan, and I head for the exit to make the walk back to the cafeteria. I trail behind the two men and utter some excuse about my bootlace coming undone. While crouching next to the center obstacle course, I inch my fingers into my sock to retrieve the tiny object that could change my life forever. I stuff it deep into the soft grains of sand and hope no one finds it.

Lunch is the same. I eat and listen to Val dissect her morning training session. She also divulges everyone else’s progress in whispers. If any of her classmates ever found out she was telling me so much, they would probably take her behind this building and teach her a lesson.

Also on the lunch agenda: avoid Kinah and Az. Luckily, Kinah sits at another table and Val and I are spared her usual barrage of insults. Az, of course, is across the aisle with the boys. He steals glances at me between bites. I try not to look at him.

After Val finishes gossiping, she turns her attention to me. “You have blood on your shoulder and your chin. What happened?” she asks.

I glance down at my shoulder and see a small smudge of dried blood. “Must have rubbed off my shirt,” I say. “Garret was throwing rocks at us today. I took a hit to the chin. No big deal.” But
it
is definitely a big deal. I don’t want anyone getting the impression that I’m not doing well in weapons training.

I hurriedly dip my napkin in my water glass and wipe away any traces of old blood before the other trainees notice it.

* * *

Today, in combat training, we combine what we’ve learned thus far. We switch partners every 30 minutes to change things up. I learn a lot from this; Kwan has a long reach, Kinah is a wild beast, and Az is as strong as an ox. Az is doing anything he can to make me better prepared. He doesn’t hold back even though I’m a female trainee. He’s so powerful that his sheer strength knocks me back several feet when he makes contact with me, but I’m fast and cunning and am able to evade most of his hits. Ethan is my best match when dealing with speed and agility.