A Reaping

"The Macerian economy relies heavily on the Torrensium Trade. That, and its fragile relationship with the Dagren Kingdom of Thurim prevented it from falling prey to surrounding invaders a long time ago. It also helped that Maceria is surrounded by water."

-History Lecture Series 513, Lady Martina Trevovsky

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Obsidian Torrens Academy, Kingdom of Maceria, Obsidian Empire

14 Aramar 11 AE

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The cold and dry winter wind burned Yvaine's lungs again. Her legs felt sluggish as her feet waded through the thick snow. She has been jogging for the last hour in the Asphodel forest.

As always, Yvaine is way behind her peers in the run. Ser Marcus started the class run early for safety reasons. Keys was now just an unfortunate lesson. The obstacle course was carefully plotted between thinner trees where no canopy blocks the sky. And fortunately, it's only two hours past midday. The sun shone magnificently in the sky, swathing the trail with a bright light which the previous night's snow amplified.

She likes to believe that she's just a normal student. Yes, she excels in some classes, but she also sucks at others, especially in this class. If this was a normal school, Yvaine wouldn't have to be so stressed about failing Martial Class three years in a row. If this was a normal school, Yvaine wouldn't be stressed at all.

In normal schools, taking physical education is optional. Only the military and Torrens bothered with honing their bodies. Like regular people, she does not need to care much about her physical limits. Or so she thought.

When she was a little girl back in Ourense, she was promised by her kindly matron to be sent for education to the Convent of Eidos. The massive cathedral could be overseen from her room in the attic at the brothel. To get a better view, she would clamber up the rooftop to marvel at the big city. She would dream of wiling away her days just reading books in silence and studying interesting stuff. Then on certain days, she would take a leisurely stroll around Ourense. Obviously, that never happened.

"Are you all right?" a familiar voice called from behind. Nash. He easily caught up to her.

'Why is he still here?' But Yvaine did not dare talk. If she did, losing what little precious oxygen she has left in her body might cause her to faint. She just gestured for him to pass her by with her right hand.

"You told me not to come here alone," Nash said, taking her meaning.

So he stayed with her. And Yvaine appreciated that. They jogged in silence until they reached the foot of the steep hill. Yvaine's usual resting spot. Beyond this hill, another hour's worth of jogging awaited them, going by Yvaine's pace, before they would reach the Martial Class usual field of assembly by the Black Wall.

Yvaine stopped and yelled her pent-up air out, then she jogged in place for a while before bending down to support her shaking knees, struggling for air some more.

"Are you usually like this?" Nash asked. He didn't seem winded. He didn't even seem to break a sweat.

"Yeah," she panted. She spat to clear her mouth and yelled her lungs out once more.

"For how long?"

Yvaine held up three fingers.

"Three months?"

"Years," she corrected.

Nash did not reply.

She finally felt better after a while. "You should go. If you stay with me, your class performance would suffer," she told him when she could finally manage to speak.

"I don't mind," he said.

"Trust me you don't want to be stuck like I am," she insisted.

"It's not so bad," was his laidback reply.

'Wow. He is blunt,' Yvaine thought.

"Suit yourself," she resigned, "Come on," and took off once more.

With a running buddy, Yvaine did not drown in her thoughts as she usually does. Whenever her mind would wander, a glance at Nash beside her grounded her back to the present. She still focused on keeping up, even though she knew Nash was adjusting his pace for her. Her mind played this trick of thinking Nash was just jogging on his own and she silently competed with him.

When they neared the clearing where the students were assembled, Nash slowed his pace. Yvaine automatically adjusted hers but Nash shook his head and prodded her on. Nash wants her to go first!

Yvaine realized his intention and immediately understood. If they were seen together, it would draw unnecessary attention and do more harm than good. Nash would be seen as 'helping' her and she would end up publicly appearing even weaker.

'Fine by me,' Yvaine thought, grateful. With her little strength, she tried to widen the gap between them. By the time she was in the assembled class's line of sight, Yvaine was dragging herself along the road on her own.

"As always," Ser Marcus remarked, standing in front of the arrayed students with fists on his hips.

Yvaine did not bother commenting and just settled in her usual spot. More than the physical torment of trying to take another step during the run, she hated abruptly halting her body's motion to stand in attention inline. She rapidly puffed air through her nostrils to stop herself from blacking out.

"Well that's new," Ser Marcus said. Nash emerged from the treeline, slumped down, and literally towing his feet along. He painstakingly took his time settling down next to Yvaine, looking like he was on the brink of death. Gone was his unwinded, confident, and strong demeanor. Nash genuinely looked like he was passing out as he finally stood in attention, or tried to. His chest pumped wildly as he struggled for air, his sweat dripped madly from his forehead, his entire tunic was soaked, and his lips were death-pale.

Yvaine forgot her tiredness. Next to Nash, she looked healthy. Had she not been with him only moments ago, Yvaine would wholeheartedly believe Nash's act. No, she actually believed it to be true. Right now, it was like the confident and unwinded Nash from moments before was the 'act' and this weakling was the 'real' Nash.

'He can't just act out his body's reaction, can he?' she reasoned.

"I guess all that meat in your bones is just for show, eh, Nash?" Ser Marcus contemplated loudly.

"No, Ser," Nash rasped weakly.

"Well, boy," Ser Marcus said, sadly shaking his head, "I take back what I said about you. The best we can make of you is a Revenant, after all. Probably in another three years." His gaze turned to Yvaine at that last statement.

Her eyes widened in anticipation.

"Congratulations, Yvaine. You just passed this class."

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Nash's lips twitch into a smirk. It was gone before anyone else noticed.

*****

For the first time since she arrived in the Academy, Yvaine went to bed exhilarated by her accomplishment. Or well, Nash's accomplishment at granting her that accomplishment. He arrived just at the perfect time and now everything was falling into place. She did not bother why or how or where Nash came from. He was helping her. That made him her friend.

Other than Elia, Yvaine didn't have many friends left. Most of her peers have moved on into the higher years. It is rare for a Renegade to remain in Martial Class for two years. Most Renegades complete it without hiccups and move on to the higher classes after a year. She basically held the record.

With Martial Class out of the way, she could finally move on to Practical Torrenting. In the past three years, the closest she ever had to actually performing the feat was on short practical sessions during her Torrent Theory classes. She reveled at the prospect of getting to finally Torrent without limits. To test herself against the obstacles and machinations in the Torrenting Towers.

It will all start tomorrow, and without any nagging issues weighing her mind, she settled into what is going to be a comfortable sleep. So something in the back of her mind wondered why she kept tossing and turning. Moreover, the sheets covering her were not the comfortable cotton blanket she covered herself with when she first settled down. Instead, it was a thin piece of rag that barely provided any protection from the damp winter cold. Her small feet felt cold, extending outside of the rag-blanket, exposed.

Yvaine decided to just get up. Beside her, Cray snored deeply. He slept sprawled on his back, the thin rag-blanket barely covering his chest. Cray seemed to have adjusted well to the living conditions in the Settlement despite being here for only five Reapings, by Yvaine's count.

She has been living in this dump since she could first remember, mining Tenebrium and performing backbreaking work all day. She did try to escape several times in the past but the way to the surface is heavily guarded. Another escape route available is by going further down. Into the Groul-infested Warrens. Anyone who wandered far never came back. Either they successfully made it to the surface somewhere, or they fell victim to the Grouls and other Thralls that pervade the underground network of roads in the bowels of the planet. She could also try to win Reaping. But despite her insistence, she was never allowed to participate due to her young age.

A bell rang and noises filled the air from outside. People were gathering around in the settlement square.

'A Reaping?' she wondered. It's too early.

The settlement management had this sport of pitting the slave miners against the supervisor's champion, aptly called the Gale, every moon cycle called the Reaping. Anyone who beat the Gale in this contest wins the Reaping and is granted freedom. She could only watch in envy as year after year, two or three slaves won their freedom.

"Wha?" Cray stirred at the commotion. "What's happening?"

Yvaine just looked at him meaningfully.

"A Reaping?" Cray muttered. "It's that time already?" He groggily sat from his stupor and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "It's not even dawn yet."

Though the sky cannot be seen from here, Yvaine knew Cray was telling the truth. She could tell the time simply from the cold air after living in this shithole for ten years.

Without further prodding, she made for the door.

"Wait up," Cray called from behind. He almost stumbled trying to stand.

The crowd of slave miners that gathered around the settlement square threatened to spill into the marked arena beyond, held in check by a thin perimeter of settlement guards. Yvaine easily slipped through the crowd and found herself at the edge of the inside perimeter. The square was simply an open area bordered by a cluster of shanties on three sides and a steep rock wall on the fourth. Bulky old Cray had to mutter a string of apologies as clumsily shoved himself through the sea of people to get to Yvaine.

"Stop leaving me behind, will you?" he said irritably as he finally sidled beside her on the inside perimeter. "So what have we got?" The answer did not wait long.

"This is not a Reaping," the mine supervisor, a portly old man Yvaine knows as Yekob, cried from above. "But you might as well consider this as one." He was on a porch that jutted out of the rock wall, accessed by a tunnel that opened through the rock behind him.

"Teck here," Yekob indicated a richly dressed merchant standing beside him, "is buying companions for his journey. The invite was posted yesterday but since no one took the offer, here we are."

A lithe figure clad in all black emerged from the tunnel that opened on the rock wall at ground level. The Gale.

Nobody knows his real identity as he keeps his face covered with a black mask that only shows his eyes. Some people gossiped that he's an Akharu but Yvaine and the majority of the miners believe otherwise. Akharu were known for their red eyes. The Gale's are blue.

"Everyone will participate. Those who are not marked will be Teck's property and twenty lashes await those who are marked," the Yekob's voice boomed from above again.

"What?" Cray's face was covered in disbelief. Yvaine had questions in her mind as well. It is not a Reaping indeed. Murmurs of disbelief began springing from the gathered crowd.

A settlement guard carrying a bucket full of powdered chalk approached the Gale. He settled it next to the slender man, uttered a short "just call if you need more," then retreated.

"Hide if you must, run if you can," Yekob continued. "But don't think about going outside the Settlement. The guards will gut you if you are within their range. Expand the perimeter."

At this order, the guards holding the inside perimeter dispersed and retreated back into the tunnel the Gale emerged from. Yvaine knew they would scatter themselves along the Settlement borders, waiting to kill any slave trying to pass through.

"Let me make this clear. If you avoid the mark, you leave with Teck here. If you are marked, you will be lashed. If you try to leave the Settlement, you will be killed. How much do you need, Gale?"

"Thirty seconds," the Gale's voice was husky through his mask. He casually dipped both hands into the bucket then gently clapped the excess chalk away.

"Then begin!"

Chaos erupted.

Some of the slaves ran while others stayed put, resigned to their fate - figuring it would be a pointless run. The Gale was just standing still, silently counting with his fingers.

The Reaping is a contest of speed. A game of tag between a contestant and the Gale. The contestant would stain their hands with Chalk and the first to mark the other wins. However, the Gale is not dubbed 'the Gale' if he wasn't fast. Each year, only two or three slaves manage to touch the Gale first, out of the many contestants per Reaping per moon cycle.

"Twenty lashes?" Cray was incredulous. They both stood still for a while as the moments dangerously ticked by. The Gale flicked a finger every time a second passed.

"What do you think?" Cray faced her.

Yvaine had decided. She will take a chance. A smile crept from her lips and she bolted away from the square.

"I thought so too!" Cray called from behind her.