Season 2: Episode 5 – What Cannot Be Trained

This series contains mature themes and is intended for adult listeners.

>Begin Porta Cor imprint.<

This thing is on again, right?

>Your Porta Cor imprint is recording.<

Good. Today could also be my last day, so let’s keep going while I can.

I am up early this morning, walking around and exploring Alltud on my own.

This place is huge, like Che’el de Velg’lan, but much less suffocating because of the massive, rounded cavern ceilings.

Che’el de Velg’lan makes me feel like I’m suffocating underground, while this place does not.

It’s wonderful.

I hear footsteps approaching quickly behind me, so I glance back to see if I need to get out of the way for someone to pass me.

It’s the irritated trainer I met yesterday, Twyloo. I move over to the side, assuming he will pass me, but he doesn’t. He stops as he approaches me and glances me over from head to toe again. I feel uncomfortable with the way he looks at me. The look makes it clear that to him, I’m prey.

I look around, and I realize I am completely alone with him. No one else is around.

Can I take him down? I notice his stance, his build, his movements. He is a little careless, a little too self-assured. Yeah, I can.

He starts walking around me, looking at me, then gets really close to my face. He whispers to me, “You don’t know why I’m here, do you?”

What the fuck is this guy talking about? He’s in Alltud. Isn’t everyone in Alltud an exile, an outcast, a throw-away like me? I don’t answer.

He smiles, but it’s not a friendly smile.

“Most females out there thought they could beat me, too.”

Damn, does this fucker read minds? I feel his slow exhale against my face.

“They were wrong.” He says it with a deadly tone—a tone I recognize immediately. Most of my fighting has been limited to tournaments, but taking on and killing nine guards at Bryn’s house taught me to recognize dangerous intent in a hurry.

He steps away like he never even talked to me. I stand there watching him leave, imagining how killing him would make me feel.

It is later in the morning now. Conwyr brings me to a gigantic sand-pit arena with stadium seating all around. I wonder if they have their own tournament fights here since there is seating. But she doesn’t stop in the arena; instead, she brings me to an office off it, where Montvie waits at a desk.

He stands up as we enter, and I watch Conwyr go over to him and kiss him, whispering a few words to him. He nods, and then she says, “I will be back for you later.” And she leaves us alone to start my training. They must be married or romantically involved in some way, I decide.

Montvie motions for a chair across from where he was sitting at his desk, and I sit down, not sure what to expect here.

He looks at me for a moment, but it’s not the creepy look I get from Twyloo. It’s the look seasoned fighters give me before taking me on in tournaments. He’s assessing me, and he’s also considering what to say to me, which tells me he won’t tell me everything he probably should. I look back at him without speaking.

“Kylah, today your training begins. Life in Alltud is not like life anywhere else in Anturia. Here, you must always be ready to survive. Your life depends on it.”

His tone is not threatening, but steady and factual.

“This training is to help me live here?” I ask.

“Partially. But first, the training helps you earn the right to live in Alltud.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” I admit.

He nods, “In Alltud, we have rules about who can enter the community and stay. For your exile to be complete, you must participate in the Ymladd I Farwolaeth, the fight to the death.”

Fuck. I knew the trek through the desert couldn’t be the worst. I knew it.

“Who do I fight?” I ask, suddenly wondering who my opponent will be.

He leans back in his chair, “You must choose one of your trainers.”

Of course I do.

My fighter brain is kicking in along with all the adrenaline. “Do I fight here in the arena?”

“No, you are both taken to the desert. Part of the ritual is to survive the desert as well as each other.”

Fuck me. The desert again. I’m already sick of the damn desert. “Who decides which trainer I fight?”

He sits up straight again and looks at me intensely, “You do.”

He spends the rest of the day teaching me strategy and how to let the desert do some of the work of defeating my opponent. He teaches me tactics they use here in the desert, as it’s very different from combat in a controlled environment.

He’s a cold, hardened Croen Glas, but I can tell he’s a decent male. I also learn he’s the elected leader of Alltud, a position the community has chosen him for many times.

As we leave his office and enter the arena floor, I notice Twyloo standing alone across the sand pit, watching us.

Conwyr comes to get me, and I eat supper with her. “Is Montvie your husband?” I ask her.

 “He is my chosen partner,” she answers quietly.

“Does he live here? I have only seen you in this home.” I look around.

She nodded, “Yes, but he is staying somewhere else for your training. When you become a citizen after the fight, you will get your own place.”

“And then he will come back here,” I add.

She nods. I feel bad for keeping them apart. I look at her while I eat, and she still looks so familiar to me. Where have I seen her before?

I am up early again the next day. Today, I have two training sessions. The first is with Rebane on desert survival, and the second is with Lidel on desert plants, food, and healing.

Rebane teaches me outside the community walls in the desert area around the opening, and he has a great sense of humor. He teaches me many things about surviving in the desert. The most important thing he teaches me is how to walk on the dunes without wearing myself out and falling all the time.

He shows me a pivot-and-weight-shift movement, which I fail miserably at. I try again, and I manage to stay upright. He seems pleased, and I practice it for the rest of my training time with him.

He says, “When the ground moves, don’t fight it. Move with it.”

When I glance back toward the cavern entrance as we start to head back inside, Twyloo is standing there in the shade, watching the dunes. When Rebane and I get to the entrance, he is gone.

Lidel is soft-spoken and kind, and she reminds me of Bryn the way she talks and acts. She takes me to an indoor garden and teaches me about desert plants I can use for food, water, and healing.

She also teaches me which plants are poisonous or deadly.

She catches me off guard when she suddenly nicks my hand with a knife. Then she shoves a crushed herb on the cut, an herb that she just told me gets rid of infection. It burns.

“Fuck!” I yell. She doesn’t apologize but says, “Better pain now than rot later.”

I go back to Conwyr’s, eat, and sleep so hard from the busy day.

The next day, I’m up early again. This morning, I train with Rhyddid on elemental dismorphia inside the arena itself.

She asks, “Have you ever heard of it?”

“No,” I admit.

She says, “It’s a form of magic we Tylwyth Teg can use to bend elements around us to make us invisible. Obviously, it takes a lot of concentration, control, and energy.”

“Predators always notice movement, so this can save you a short time if you are hunted or even if you need to hunt.”

“It must be used sparingly,” she warns.

By the end of my training with her, I cannot disappear entirely yet, but I can become a shimmering outline only. She seems pleased with my progress in such a short time.

In the afternoon, Rhyddid brings me to a different room off the arena that I had not been in before. Conwyr is there waiting for me. There are tables everywhere with stuff on them. Some have glasses of water, some have small objects, and others have weapons.

“What will I learn here?” I ask her.

“Remember, I told you that I would teach you to sing.”

I laugh, “I thought you were joking.”

She tells me about a magic called Canu, which is the power to use vocal vibrations in song to make things move through vibration alone. She makes it look so easy, and her voice is barely a whisper as she uses it. She advises that singing loudly isn’t necessary and, in fact, a waste of your energy and voice. Your voice doesn’t even have to be in tune, which is good for me since I cannot sing well.

I make the water in a glass ripple by the end of our training, and she smiles, delighted with me.

“Great job, Kylah. That’s probably the hardest skill you have learned so far. Most people never manage to do anything for weeks.” She comes around to sit next to me now and takes a necklace off her own neck and places it around mine. The chain is silver, and the amulet on the chain is silver and purple. It sparkles in the light.

She tucks it into my shirt to hide it. “This is for you. You are not alone, Kylah. Those who love you and support you are always with you.”

Oddly, I remember the necklace I made for Afanen, for whom I told a similar speech. Does this mean I die as she did? I put my hand over it inside my shirt, and it feels warm, probably because she wore it.

She touches my cheek lightly. Normally, I swat hands away that try to touch me, but she is so motherly that I let her touch me. I trust her, I realize. “One more thing.” She says, standing up and moving over to a table with all sorts of daggers, knives, and short swords. “You must choose your weapon to take with you into the desert. You may only choose one.”

I stand and follow her to the table and start looking over all the weapons. There are some unique and interesting-looking ones here—one with a curved blade and a curved hilt. The blade is silver with black and silver detailing on the hilt. I look over the rest, but my eyes keep pulling back to that one. I stare at it, and it feels right. I reach my left hand out to pick it up. “Yeah, this is it.” I take it out of the sheath and look it over. It is so sharp, I can tell.

Conwyr watches me with it, and she looks like she wants to say something. “Is there something wrong with this one?” I ask her.

Her looks tell me she is reassessing me again. “No.” She answers flatly. “Her name is Goroeswyr. If she is your choice, then she will serve you well.”

She says the name like she’s introducing me to someone, not a blade. She’s holding something back there, too, but I let it go. The blade feels too natural in my hands. I swing it around while practicing some moves. It’s the right one for me.

The next day, Conwyr takes me to the arena where I meet with Twyloo. He has a variety of animals in cages all around the arena floor. 

He’s arrogant and spends most of his time torturing the creatures and running his lip instead of teaching me anything useful. He toys with the creatures in some messed-up ways. I keep silent because I don’t want to encourage him to think he intimidates me.

I notice all the other trainers watch me from the stands while I’m with Twyloo, whereas I was alone with the other trainers. Wait, I realize they’re watching him and not me.

I pick up a little information here and there in between his sick twisted comments and mutilations of the creatures in his possession. I watch how he hurts them and kills them, though, marking his movements, his pacing, his facial expressions as he makes the kill.

I wish he would tell me about a draightywod, though. Maybe he doesn’t know about them.

I look back up at all my trainers in the stands staring down at him while he goes to another cage and rattles it around and opens it. I take Goroeswyr out and start throwing it around while he plays in the cages. I really like the way it feels, like a part of me.

Suddenly, while I’m not watching him, he flings something at me.

Instinctively, my left hand snaps up. Goroeswyr flashes through the air and slices whatever he throws at me in half. I realize it’s one of those snakes I saw in the desert with a forked tongue and a forked tail. 

He steps up close to me, and his body leans into mine in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You kill fast.”

He looks into my eyes intensely. “Good,” he whispers.

He starts to lift his hands toward my hips, and I turn sideways and walk away from him. He says, “Predators don’t waste strength fighting prey that fights back. They wait until it’s tired.”

I hear Montvie call from above, “Training is finished.”

Twyloo and I meet them all outside the arena, and they lead me out to a central cavern with a raised stage in the center. The community gathers around it, and the trainers lead me to the stage.

Montvie addresses the crowd, “The law of Alltud is simple. One may return…or neither.”

The crowd cheers and throws their arms in the air, chanting, “Ymladd, Ymladd!” over and over again.

He points to me, “Kylah, do you seek to join the community here in Alltud?”

“Yes.” I declare. Where else do I have to go?

The crowd cheers.

He shouts, “Name your opponent!”

I look around at the trainers on the stage with me. The others look at me expressionlessly, except for Twyloo, who smirks. Jackass.

I know he’s the one. The looks he gives me. The way the others of Alltud don’t interact with him but watch him intently. He’s my chosen opponent.

“Twyloo,” I say flatly.

For a moment, the entire cavern goes silent.

Suddenly, the crowd cheers even louder as if in celebration of my choice.

Montvie proclaims, “The desert will judge!”

Twyloo laughs, pleased with my choice.

The next day, I wash, dress, and eat a big breakfast as Conwyr watches me. I still cannot remember why she looks so familiar to me.

As I stand up and she hands me a pack with all my supplies in it, it finally hits me.

“Dahlfia!” I shout without meaning to do so.

She blinks.

“You remind me of Dahlfia,” I declare. “It has bothered me every day I’ve been here trying to figure out who you remind me of.”

She smiles and then hands me Goroeswyr to strap onto my waist. “Yes, I am her mother.”

I feel my mouth drop. “Her mother? I thought her mother lived in Teithia? That’s what Bryn said.”

“That is the mother who raised her, Melys Tawel. I am her biological mother.” She answers honestly without embarrassment.

“Oh.” Things in my brain start clicking into place—many things. I look up into her green eyes, and her smile gets wider. She knows what I now understand. “I didn’t realize,” I say.

“Most don’t.” She helps me put on a linen duster that drapes to mid-calf. It has a hood with an attached scarf that I can wrap across my face. She ties it at my shoulder for me, as a mother would. Then, when she is done, I move my arms around to make sure I can do what I might need to in a fight or for survival. It’s perfect. I look at her, holding her gaze a moment, “Thank you.”

She still smiles at me as she did before. “I know you will come back to us, Kylah. Dahlfia believes in you. Montvie and I believe in you. Now, you must believe in yourself, and you must believe in the desert.”

She walks me outside Alltud’s main cavern entrance, and Twyloo is there along with my other trainers and a gathering of the community. 

Twyloo looks me over with a smirk and gets into his capsule. The community programs our capsules to take us into different places, deep into the desert.

I get into mine, and Conwyr leans in to place a kiss on my forehead, and then the capsule door closes after she’s out. I never knew Melys, but I sure do like Conwyr.

I watch them disappear like tiny ants as my capsule speeds off into the desert. There’s no point in trying to take manual control of it. I know they have already overridden those options in the programming.

I take a deep breath and watch my surroundings and direction as I’m taken deep into the Plains of Du’Roi.

After hours, my capsule comes to a stop near the start of a set of dunes. The door opens, and I grab my stuff and get out and stretch. The capsule door closes, and it speeds off in the direction it brought me. That’s the direction I’m going to walk, because it makes sense to start the journey back now. That’s what Twyloo might do as well.

It’s a bit beyond midday now, and the sun is hot overhead. But I noticed these clothes are much cooler than the ones I came here for my first time in the desert. These are sand-colored, not the dark grey of my usual attire.

I glance around me, looking for anything dangerous. My senses are sharp right now. Since my adrenaline is so high right now, I walk through that day and most of the night too, finding it easier to move around at night as Rebane suggested.

Then I set up my portable shelter near a rocky formation I found and rest until late the next day. I pack up and start over again. Honestly, the days pass quickly. One, two, three days out. My supplies are starting to get low, though, the food and the water. I have the water capsules left at least, but I will need to start looking for food sources by tomorrow.

I am surprised nothing awful has eaten me yet. No sign of a desert dragon or even a double forked snake. A few rodent creatures. Lots of different types of cacti and tumbleweeds. Strange craggy bushes here and there.

Occasionally, I see a strange bird or two fly over me. They don’t look like the birds from Teithia. My creature trainer was very worthless, and now I understand that he was not at all liked by the community.

It almost feels like they put him in with all those nice folks to train me so that I would choose him. I laugh and shake my head. That cannot be right. That would be too fucked up, even for this place.

Day five now, I ran out of everything. I did find some food, and I did have water yesterday. Today, I have not found any yet. The sun starts to get lower, and I’ve only walked for about 3 hours today so far through the dunes. I need to find water before tonight is over. I forgot what water feels like on my throat.

There is no Alltud. There is no Teithia. There is no Twyloo even. Everything is an endless desert. I’m losing my mind out here.

The dunes get smaller, and an open basin stretches out in front of me. I walk through it, thinking surely there must be water down here somewhere, trying to remember what I learned. The lowering sunlight catches something ahead in the distance. Is that water? Or is it a hallucination?

Hell, if I know, but I’m going to check it out anyway. I would kill for some water right now.

I squint my eyes, trying to get a clearer image of it. Is it real? What’s that gold light around it?

Suddenly, I hear a crack under my feet, and before I can even look down, one foot down and then the other. I’m waist-deep in wet sand.

My brain lags as I struggle against the wet sand pit, trying to kick and wave my arms around. It makes things worse. The sand loosens and shifts around my legs. I try to pull my leg free, and the wet sand feels heavier than before. Panic begins to spread through my mind as I struggle for several minutes. Then Rebane’s words float back into my head, “When the ground moves, don’t fight it. Move with it.”

I exhale and try to relax. Slowly, I begin to wiggle my legs just a little, letting the water settle beneath me. Like I’m floating in a pool, I ease back into it and try to let the water help me float above it. I am surprised that I’m not sinking. Okay. This might work.

I use small movements of my feet and hands to float toward where I see solid ground. Once close, and in slow and small movements, I reach down to free Goroeswyr from the sheath. As I get the knife out, though, I nearly lose my floating balance, and my hand flies up with Goroeswyr flying with it and landing on the dry sand a few feet away from me.

Shit. What now, Kylah?

I close my eyes and steady my breathing.

Canu.

I try to get my voice calm. It’s hard because I’m exhausted—four hours of dunes and now struggling in quicksand. But I manage to project my voice toward my blade softly, and after a while, Goroeswyr slowly drags itself closer to me.

Now, it’s in my reach. I grab it and stab it into the dry sand, then pull myself up, one leg out first, then the other. My second leg makes a sucking sound when I finally pull it out. I’m glad the boots they gave me are so well-fitting; otherwise, they would never have stayed on my feet.

I’m exhausted. I crawl further away from the quicksand pit by about twenty feet, and then I fall over on my back, looking up at the sky.

The last hour of daylight is here, and the sky, which is usually filled with amazing colors, looks strange this evening. It’s got this strange yellow tint.

I don’t think I can stand up yet.

What’s that sound?

Sand sliding.

I look back toward the dunes.

I hear it again.

I search the dunes.

My arms and legs ache too much to move.

It might be best to stay still if there’s a creature out there looking for movement.

Then I hear the crunch of a booted foot hitting the basin floor.

A shadow falls across the sand at my feet, and the sun blurs the image of its origin.

It stops.

My heartbeat increases as the winds around me pick up, as if in response.

I don’t need to see who it is to know who it is.

He came down from the dunes after watching me struggle and fall.

I watch a couple of small streaks of sand blow around in the wind behind him.

He lowers himself on top of me, one hand pulling my trousers down.

I look for my dagger, but it’s off to the side where I dropped it when I rolled over.

I try to lift my leg between the two of us to separate us, but I’m so weak that he pushes it back down before I get it the slightest bit off the ground.

Hell, this is happening.

I can’t…I can’t stop it.

I watch the strange scene unfurling behind him as the seconds tick like hours. I smell dust.

The air. Something about the air. Clean, plentiful.

The sky behind him, as the sun sent out its last light, went from a light yellow to a darker yellow.

In between his grunts, I hear sand falling like rain somewhere in the distance.

The wind is stronger now, and I feel it blow across my exposed skin – still wet from the quicksand like my clothes. It makes the hot, dry air feel cool as it quickly evaporates the water on it.

My head spins. Or maybe the wind is spinning more sand? I feel surreal, like I’ve disconnected from my body.

This is not happening to me. Is it? Is this how I die? Bryn, I’m so sorry. I failed you.

A stronger smell of dust in the air, something in my eyes now.

I see steel glint; he has his own knife in his hand now. He’s finished with me. I am lifeless already on the ground. Finish me, fucker.

His eyes are hard, but I cannot even see the color anymore because there’s so much sand in the air between us. The sky behind him is a dark brown. A roar, maybe like a sand dragon, approaches.

He lifts his knife to bring it down on me, and before his arm drops, he is ripped from on top of me by a wind. I remain flat on the ground as a violent wind rakes the air above me.

I turn my face sideways to try to shield it.

I roll over so I am flat with my belly on the ground, and I pull the hood of my duster over my head and the attached scarf across my face.

A glimmer of gold. There it is again. So close now. Is it real?

Half-naked and pummeled by wind and sand, I slither toward the only thing I have left to hope for.

Everything is loud and brown.

Everything is quiet and bright.

Then everything becomes pitch black.