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  “Red.”

  A swish of arrows all landed in the red rings.

  “Yellow.”

  The arrows impaled the yellow rings.

  Captain Faal called off numerous colors in quick succession before calling “blue.” With a crack of wood, the arrows found the center targets, splitting the previous arrows in two.

  The trial bearers erupted in cheers.

  “Fantastic,” a nearby girl said.

  Taryn nodded with wide eyes as she clapped in approval.

  Alec wasn’t impressed.

  Nolan leaned toward Alec. “Your father probably doesn’t make many bows or arrows in his armory, does he?”

  “No,” Alec whispered. “Not enough steel to suit him.”

  “For those of you who are untrained in archery,” Captain Faal said, “we’ll give you an opportunity to learn before your Challenge of Accuracy begins.”

  Captain Faal separated them into groups, giving a quick lesson on the proper way to hold the long bow, where to position the arm, and how to sight the arrow. When it was Alec’s turn, he found that—much like swordplay—he had natural talent. Unlike many of the others, Alec could hit the target.

  “Hold your fire,” Captain Faal called.

  General Trividar came over the hill with a group dressed in black robes. Green sashes strung across their chests, marking them as the sect of the Healing Rol’dan.

  Alec had been feeling pretty good about his archery skills. But seeing those Healers … Well, that couldn’t mean anything good.

  Captain Faal gave a quick bow to the general before speaking. “Sir, we are about to begin.”

  “Good, Captain. Proceed.”

  Captain Faal motioned to two of his Accuracy Rol’dan, and they took a place on the opposite side of the field, a good twenty paces on either side of the centermost target.

  “As you know,” Captain Faal said, “the Shay of Accuracy gives one perfect aim. Your task for this trial will be to hit with perfect aim as well. You will have only three chances. If you miss, the result could prove quite painful.”

  A boy raised his hand.

  Captain Faal pointed at him. “Yes? Questions?”

  “What do you mean by painful?”

  The captain smiled. “As mentioned before, to bring forth a Shay, one must focus intense emotions into the center where the Shay lies dormant. But shooting targets alone will not bring forth a Shay. Which is why if you miss the target, our archers will return fire.”

  The boy’s mouth dropped open. “They’ll shoot us?”

  The crowd murmured, anxious energy spreading.

  “They may shoot you. Or they may not. As long as you hold still, our Accuracy Rol’dan will avoid a fatal blow. The result of dodging may be an arrow between your eyes”—he motioned to the black robed Healers—“and our Healers will not raise the dead. So far in our history, we’ve never had a death with this portion of the trial.”

  Alec snorted. So far … How reassuring.

  General Trividar stepped forward, false concern plastered on his conceited face. “I’m sure you can all agree that the temporary discomfort is necessary. How else can you discover if you can be an honored Rol’dan?”

  Alec’s stomach lurched with disgust. Honored Rol’dan?

  The participants calmed slightly, fear still trickling through them.

  “Perhaps a demonstration is in order?” General Trividar suggested. His eyes roved over the group, stopping on Nolan. “I believe our scribe would be more than happy to show us.”

  Nolan’s face paled.

  Captain Faal frowned. “It isn’t really necessary—”

  “I must insist.” The general held out his arm, as if giving Nolan a warm invitation.

  Alec thought Nolan might refuse, but he squared his shoulders and stepped forward, grimacing as he bent to get an arrow. He was in no condition for archery. He nocked it and closed his eyes for several long moments.

  “I didn’t call you to sleep,” General Trividar said.

  Several of the Rol’dan chuckled.

  Nolan opened his eyes, pulled the bowstring, and his lips contorted. He released it, and it landed with a quiet thump into the soil in front of the target.

  “Perfect example. Thank you, Nolan,” the general said.

  Nolan inhaled and straightened his posture, awaiting the return fire. The arrow whistled through the air and thudded into Nolan’s shoulder. He jolted back a step and stifled a cry, but made no movement to remove it. Instead, he leaned over, trembling, his eyes closed.

  Alec clenched his fists, and Taryn clung to his arm. General Trividar hadn’t used Nolan just for example. He wanted to make a fool of him.

  General Trividar strode in front of their shocked and silent group. He made an annoyed gesture to the Healers before he spoke. “As you can see, a missed shot resulted in a shot returned. And as you can also see, he is very much alive.”

  Captain Faal stepped forward. “I should also note that hitting the target does not signify a successful shot. A center shot is the only one accepted. Only a truly accurate shot will pass the trial.”

  “That’s impossible,” Taryn whispered. “None of us can do it.”

  “That’s the idea,” Alec whispered back. “We aren’t meant to pass unless we have Accuracy.”

  Captain Faal began arranging the group, leading them to the other side of the hill away from the range.

  “I can’t even hit the target.” Taryn’s eyes widened. “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Alec said, frowning. “We have no choice. Besides, it’ll be a few hours before it’s our turn. We should check on Nolan and see if he’s okay.”

  She nodded, though still pale. She glanced at their linked arms, gasped, and dropped her hands to her sides. He stared at where she’d held him, disappointed; the spot felt suddenly cold.

  They pushed through the crowd toward Nolan, and a Healing Rol’dan stepped into their path.

  “Just a moment,” the Rol’dan said. He turned to Nolan and yanked the arrow free.

  Nolan grunted out what sounded like a curse.

  The Healer ripped open Nolan’s bloodied tunic, placed his palms on Nolan’s pale chest, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, an emerald light glowed.

  The Rol’dan shuddered; spots of moisture seeped through his robe on his shoulder, exactly where the arrow had been. But the most amazing sight was when purple bruises swelled on the Rol’dan’s face, and after a moment, faded to normal again.

  When he’d finished, the Healer dusted himself off and walked away as if nothing had happened.

  Alec stared. He’d never seen anything like it.

  “Crows, Nolan,” Taryn said. “Are you okay?”

  Nolan smiled. “I’m quite well, actually.” He ran his hand across his face where the bruising had been.

  Alec couldn’t get over it. He knew he shouldn’t be impressed—especially of a Rol’dan—but he couldn’t help it.

  “Was this your first time?” Nolan asked.

  “What?” Alec shook his head. “Sorry?”

  “Was this the first time you’ve seen a Healing Shay at work?”

  “Y-yes. Your face …”

  “And my rib.” Nolan grinned.

  “How much can they heal?” Taryn asked.

  “Well, they can’t grow a limb,” Nolan said, “or your head. So keep that attached at the trials. They absorb the injury before healing.” Nolan frowned while examining the bloody hole in his tunic. “That’s why they won’t bring back the dead. They can do it, but they sacrifice themselves in the process.”

  “Mr. Deverell,” General Trividar called as he approached. “You will not fake your way out of your challenge this time.” His smirk vanished when he spied Nolan. A vein protruded from his temple and his lips twitched. If the idiot hadn’t remembered Nolan’s injuries before, he did now. “You’re still a terrible shot, Nolan,” he said. “Isn’t there something you should be doing?”

  Nolan
grinned with his eyes and bowed. “Of course, General. I must observe the different trials and record the results, just as I was doing before you gave me an extra assignment.”

  General Trividar’s face reddened, but it faded when he spied Taryn.

  “This is Camden’s daughter,” Nolan said.

  “Uncle Camden?” General Trividar’s mouth dropped open, just a little, and then he closed it again. “By Brim, you look just like your mother.”

  “I hear that a lot.”

  He bowed and lifted her hand, bringing it to his lips.

  Taryn sucked in a small breath.

  When he lifted his head, subtle sadness lingered in his eyes. “I take it back. I believe you are even more beautiful than your mother.”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

  Alec stared, open-mouthed. He didn’t dare move lest he punch the general in the face.

  The general let go of her hand and straightened to his regular, overconfident stance. “The challenge starts in a moment. Go join the others.” His eyes flashed golden with his Shay of Speed, and then he was gone.

  ***

  “One moment,” Captain Faal said.

  Alec relaxed the bow but kept his arm tense. It was bad enough he had to wait the entire morning for his turn, let alone having to stop before he even began.

  General Trividar sauntered down the field and halted in front of the Rol’dan soldier in charge of impaling Alec. Both men spoke with their faces lowered, like they had a secret. The conversation ended, and the general stepped off the field.

  “All right,” Captain Faal said. “You may continue.”

  Alec pulled on the bow and sighted the target. He still preferred his sword, but this bow thing wasn’t half bad. The arrow zipped through the air and landed in the middle of a yellow ring. It wasn’t the center, but still not an awful shot. Alec lowered the bow and stiffened to prepare for the return fire.

  More swords had cut him than he could count, but an arrow would be a whole new kind of injury. A small part of him, the one not scared, was morbidly curious. The Rol’dan aimed and released. The arrow whizzed between his legs, ripping his breeches and exposing the uppermost portion of his inner thigh. If it had been a half an inch higher … Alec’s face heated. That shot was no accident. He grabbed another arrow, raised it and took aim, this time at the archer’s groin.

  The soldier grabbed the arrow out of the air, glared with eyes glowing, and sent the same arrow back.

  Fire shot through Alec’s foot as an arrow pinned it to the ground. Alec yanked it out, his foot erupting with white hot pain. He ground his teeth and sent the blood-coated arrow back at the crow-loving Rol’dan.

  As soon as the arrow left his bow, Alec reached for another, not caring what happened. Out of the corner of his eye, Captain Faal stepped forward. Alec had shot three arrows. His trial was officially done. But before the captain said anything, Alec shot again.

  “That is enough,” Captain Faal said.

  He ignored him and let loose another failed shot. His leg erupted in fire with the returned arrow. It hurt badly, but Alec’s anger flared to the point where he didn’t care.

  “I said enough. Stand down.”

  The creak of a bowstring drew Alec’s attention. Captain Faal stood, an arrow drawn and pointed at Alec’s throat.

  “Are you done, boy?” he asked. “If not, I can make you be done.”

  Alec held the bow and arrow, shaking with anger, fatigue, and pain. He glared at the archer on the other side of the field and drew the bow.

  “Reconsider, boy,” the captain warned.

  Alec eyed the archer, and then the captain, his gaze falling to the point of the arrow aimed at him. He cursed and threw the bow. Once the battle lust left, the agony of his injuries came in a rush.

  He collapsed, his leg failing. Blood soaked through his breeches where the shaft embedded in his thigh. It dripped down his leg, mingling with the blood from his foot.

  General Trividar squatted over him and wrenched the arrow from Alec’s leg. Flesh tore as it pulled free. Alec growled and ripped a wad of grass from the earth. Crows! It hurt more coming out than going in!

  With the arrow in his hand, the general examined Alec with pleased interest. He fiddled with it before tossing it to the side. “You must enjoy discomfort, Mr. Deverell.”

  Alec’s rage returned. He tried to stand, but tremors of pain stabbed his leg.

  Four Healers rushed over. Alec resisted, his vision clouding at the edges.

  “Sit still,” one of the Rol’dan Healers scolded.

  Alec very much wanted to grab one of those arrows and cram it up his—

  His body jerked. Strange warmth started in his chest where the Rol’dan’s hands touched him. It spread like a hot broth on a winter’s day. All the pain oozed away, his body relaxing. He exhaled slowly, the sensation … intoxicating. He pushed down the lingering pleasure as bile rose in his throat. How could he enjoy it? Memories flooded his mind: his mother … the armory. Rol’dan don’t heal. They only destroy.

  It ended as abruptly as it started. The Healers stood, giving Alec resentful looks as they walked away. Alec staggered to his feet, regaining his balance. Even though the injuries were gone, weakness lingered.

  Nolan grabbed his arm to steady him, his face set in a serious scowl. “What did you think you were doing?” he whispered

  Alec yanked away from Nolan’s grasp and headed to camp. He didn’t want to talk about it. Still, Nolan followed.

  “Alec!”

  Alec stopped. “What business is it to you? I completed the trial, just like I was ordered to.”

  “Yet you couldn’t do it like everyone else. You had to cause as much trouble as possible.”

  “I was trying to teach that Rol’dan—”

  “Teach him? Teach him what? That you make a good target? The only reason you aren’t dead is they aren’t allowed to kill you.”

  “I was teaching him that he couldn’t get away with insulting me. Did you see what he did?” He motioned to the crotch of his torn pants.

  “Yes. He was trying to make you mad. And it worked.”

  “What was I supposed to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do nothing? You mean, like you?”

  “Yes, like me.”

  Alec snorted. “I can’t sit there and let them walk all over me. I’m no coward.”

  Nolan’s jaw tensed. “A coward … like me?”

  Alec didn’t answer.

  He couldn’t.

  That was exactly what he’d implied, and they both knew it.

  Finally, Nolan released a long sigh. “It’s not about being a coward. It’s about controlling yourself. You want to win, Alec. I get that. However, my brother is more stubborn than you. And more powerful.” He met his eyes. “The more you keep fighting Kael and trying to make him angry, the more you’ll end up just like him. And that is exactly what he wants: to push you over the edge. He wants a reason to kill you.” Nolan smiled weakly. “Be careful, all right?” Then he turned and walked away.

  Nolan’s words slapped Alec across the face, sealing any arguments. He stared at Nolan’s retreating back, his blood heating. The more I try to make him angry, the more I become like him? Ridiculous! How dare Nolan compare me to a murdering Rol’dan!

  An iridescent flash caught Alec’s eye. He bent over and watched a mitimum beetle make its way through the grass. Two days ago, at the trial of Perception, people desperately searched for them. Now, this one marched along as if taunting him. With a sudden burst of rage and frustration, Alec ground the beetle into the earth.

  Chapter Eight

  ALEC SAT ON A LARGE ROCK and rummaged through his pack for a waterskin. Tipping it back, he took a long swig, letting the lukewarm water drain down his throat. It was cooler today, but the lack of wind and the brisk hike made him sweat. He wiped his forehead and glanced over in time to catch a group of girls staring and looking away. Unfortunately, gossip spread fast.
r />   For some reason, everyone knew what had happened at the Trial of Accuracy. They whispered any time Alec walked by. He wondered if they thought him brave or insane. Alec hadn’t decided yet himself.

  He thrust the waterskin into his bag and did another scan over the group, searching for Taryn. They hadn’t spoken since yesterday, and he had a suspicion she was avoiding him. He couldn’t blame her, really. He’d probably do the same.

  A short, athletic soldier dressed in the red tunic and cape of the Strength Rol’dan strolled in front of the group, his hands casually behind his back. A thick, braided beard hung mid-way down his chest.

  “I am Captain Ekon,” the Rol’dan said. “Before we begin, I want to share with you about the Shay of Strength, the focus of your next challenge.

  “Some people believe the Shay of Strength only makes you stronger. Our Shay gives us strength. Yes, that is true. We can lift objects the common man would envy. However, it also transforms our bodies. Our bones harden like iron rods, and our skin strengthens like the toughest of leather. A foe might discover, too late, that it is most difficult to stab, slash, hit, bruise, or crush one such as us. We are the most powerful of all the Shay Rol’dan.”

  Captain Ekon smiled arrogantly, as if expecting them to keel over from awe and admiration at his mere presence.

  “I am sure you are all eager to find out if you have this powerful Shay. Perhaps among you, we might find a new champion.”

  Another Rol’dan soldier appeared at the top of a steep path littered with small stones. He waved, giving a silent signal.

  “Ah! I see it’s time to begin.” Captain Ekon scrutinized the group until his eyes rested on a tall fellow with blond hair. He motioned him forward and pointed the boy up the hill.

  For several long minutes, the others waited for something to happen. Birds chirped. Feet shuffled. As the atmosphere began to relax, and conversations started again, a terrible yell rang out.

  The group went silent, staring in horror at the path above. The yell choked into silence, followed by a chorus of laughter.

  Alec repositioned himself on the rock and breathed, trying to tell himself he wasn’t at all nervous. Then he remembered the arrows. What terrible things lay just over the hill?