BloodLust (Rise of the Iliri Book 1) (7 page)

"Don't mind him," a shy voice said. "He pretty much hates everyone on two legs."

She turned to see a willowy young man.  His face covered in muck, his clothing liberally stained, the youth smiled at her, his brown eyes kind.

"He's good with the horses, which is about the only reason he keeps his job here.  So you got the spotted mare?" he asked, looking past her into the stall.

"Yeah," Sal said noncommittally.

"Good call.  She goes back to Donner, through Aiden, by Tragedy," he recited.  "I don't think there's a finer horse on the farm than her.  She's working well in her schooling.  Already started in upper level work, too."  His obvious pride in the animal impressed Sal. 

"I didn't understand why that Blade asked me to turn her out in the slew bottom last night.  I told him she'd get herself coated in filth, but he said it was important.  Said her pretty hide might not bring the kind of attention he wanted.  So how'd ya get her anyways?  Win a bet or something?"

"Something like that.  It was one of our trials, we had to evaluate the horses."

"Ah, well you did a good job.  That colt over there isn't too bad, but this girl... she's already got the training and the skill, and as sweet and loyal as a puppy.  No need to spend half a year trying to play catch up.  Of the lot we pulled out today, you got the nicest!"

"Thank you..." She paused, giving the kid time to fill in his name.

"Oh sorry, it's Ahn Tilso.  I'd offer you my hand, but..."  He held his palms out.  Dirt stained them completely. 

Her faith in humanity restored, Sal offered him hers, the grime from her mare visible against her white skin.  "Salryc Luxx."

Without hesitating, the boy clasped it, "Well met, very well met.  Maybe one day, I'll get to care for a horse like yours.  But I'm always in here.  If you ever need anything, you just ask for me, k?  Then you won't have to deal with grumpy old men thinking they know too much."

"I will," she promised.

"I gotta go, they'll be yelling at me in a minute if I don't get barn 3 cleaned.  Well met again, Ms. Luxx.  I hope you enjoy your mare!"

With a wave, the guy darted through the barn aisle in the same direction as the old man before, reminding her of the time.  She turned her feet toward the courtyard and the fountain where the Blades always met, smiling.  That mare might not be hers yet, but she'd figured out how the Black Blades thought.  If this kept up, the horse and a place in the most respected elite outfit of the Conglomerate would be hers.

Chapter 8

Smug recruits reclined where they could, mostly on the edge of the fountain or the fence behind it.  They spoke among themselves about the horses they'd chosen, each one bragging more than the next.  A festive mood consumed them, and it disgusted her.  In only a few short days, the privilege of being an applicant to the Black Blades had started to change how they acted. 

Sal found a quiet place, well removed from the rest, and settled herself to wait for the impending arrival of the Lieutenant.  The boy, Passel, took a spot beside her.  She turned to look at him, at first annoyed that her isolation had been breached, but it appeared he also wanted to avoid the mass of soldiers. 

On closer inspection, Passel was older than he looked but still young, maybe in his early twenties.  The way he leaned against the wall showed his feral grace, but his features were nothing more than shades of brown.  If she had to describe him, she'd have trouble citing a feature that set him apart.

"They think it's a game," he said, breaking the silence.

She nodded, wishing he'd stop talking to her.

"I don't think they realize yet that most of them failed.  The Lieutenant, he likes us to be thinkers." His gaze never looked away from the recruits on the wagon.  "I didn't think you were going to get it, not when I saw you asking them to get horses to move out, but you did.  That's why I wanted to go last, so I didn't give away the answer."

"It took me a bit," she admitted, aware that he wasn't going to go away, "but the horses they offered didn't make much sense.  Granted, I don't have a lot of riding experience, but I listened when I worked here."

"Ah, that explains it.  So, I'm better with horses than you, but you obviously fight better than me.  Can't wait to see what's going to be the tie breaker."

"Me either.  I admit, I'm nervous about it, but I'm ready to know.  I'd wish you luck, but it would be a lie." She shrugged.  Maybe he'd write her off as a threat.

"Same here.  Let's just wish each other a good recommendation, fair 'nough?"  He held out his hand.

She took it, disliking the feel of his human flesh.  "Fair 'nough." 

Knowing she'd passed the test was different than being told, so when the Lieutenant sauntered toward them, her stomach tried to climb out of her throat.  Beside her, Passel stiffened, but the other recruits seemed oblivious to the upcoming culling.  Sal and Passel stood respectfully to face the Lieutenant, but the rest stayed seated, lowering their conversations until they were called to attention.

The Lieutenant didn't bother.  "Some of you have guessed by now that the horses were a test.  What you may not be aware of is that it was about more than just the horses.  We wanted to determine your situational awareness and your ability to assess the environment.  Only two of you met our expectations," LT said.

Those were the words that pulled the recruits to their feet.  Shocked expressions on their faces, they muttered in confusion.  Sal couldn't help but think of them as a group; so few of them showed any independence.  It made her appreciate the trials more.  In less than a week, the true character of the soldiers had crept to the surface.  The easily overlooked Passel had become her strongest competition, while the decorated men across from her were barely worth her notice.

"Lance Corporal Arton Wheton," the Lieutenant went on, "your ability to recognize horseflesh and take initiative has given you a score just high enough to continue with the trials.  Specialist Doron Passel and Private Salryc Luxx, you both completed the task as we hoped, resulting in another passed test.  The rest of you, speak with Arctic.  He will sign your release papers and arrange transport back to your previous post.  The horses you chose will be returned to the pastures, or you have the option of purchasing them at a discount as your bonus for the trials.  Additional training is available at your own expense.  You are dismissed.

"Wheton, Luxx, and Passel, come with me." the Lieutenant said, turning.

They followed him through what passed for streets to his room.  Little had changed since her last visit and, at a gesture from LT, Sal found a seat before the desk.  This time, Wheton and Passel flanked her rather than the officers of the Black Blades.

"Your next trial won't be as easy, I'm afraid," LT began.  "Each of you will have two days to prepare, then you will lead the Blades through a training mission.  Orders will be given immediately before the start time, but you have your assignment now.  I encourage you to use any means necessary to gain intelligence about the mission details."

"Espionage?" Passel asked.

"Expected," LT agreed.

"Rules of engagement?" Wheton wanted to know.

"Enemy territory."

Eyes turned to Sal.  With a smirk, she reclined into the chair.  "We can treat off duty personnel as resources?  Is funding for bribes and equipment refundable?  And finally, does our assignment brief list a location?"

"It does."  LT chose to answer her questions in reverse.  "The assignment lists Stonewater Creek.  You will be given a stipend to draw from for preparations, so those of you with less personal resources will not be unfairly penalized.  And yes, until your start time for the mission, assume that all personnel are to be treated as enemy civilians.

"In addition, you are granted access to any military base within 15 kilometers.  You have two full days to use in preparation, after which time you will either start the trial or be confined to your rooms until your trial starts."

Passel spoke up, "So, what happens in the event of a tie?  Say all of us pass this trial?  What then?"

"You have scores and will be graded for each step of preparation and execution," LT said.  "A tie is unlikely, but in the event that it happens, we will assign an additional task.  Keep in mind, the opinion of all Black Blades is considered in the scoring.  Being the best is not enough; you must be approved and respected by the unit as a whole."

The recruits fell silent.  With only three of them left, she had no idea where she stood in the rankings.  She hoped she led the class, but her insecurities made her doubt it.  They all probably harbored the same fears.

"Now, if you have no further questions, you have tonight to contemplate your course of action, celebrate your passing into the last phase, or do whatever it is you want.  Your clocks start tomorrow, at dawn."  The Lieutenant stood.

The recruits did the same.  With a nod they were dismissed, and the three made their way to the street outside.  Tension between them was already rising, each casting glances at the others out of the corners of their eyes.

"Ok," Sal said.  "I'm heading to my rooms, and I suspect I won't see any of you until our results are announced."

With a sigh, Passel nodded.  "You're right.  Good recommendation, Luxx.  May it serve you well.  And here's hoping for a good recommendation for you, too, Mr. Wheton."

"Same to you, Passel," she replied.  "And to you, Wheton, I hope that you earn a good recommendation because I don't dare wish you good luck."

The veteran chuckled.  "A good recommendation to both of you, as well, then."

With that, they turned their separate ways, none of them looking back to watch their competition.

Chapter 9

The sun still trickled in through her window, but Sal lay on her bed trying to chase the thoughts racing through her mind.  She had two days to prepare her plan.  The Lieutenant said they could use any means necessary, but trying to devise a way to gain intelligence about the upcoming mission had her stumped.  When the answer eluded her, she paced her room like a caged animal. 

If she looked like anything but an iliri bitch, maybe she could get information from the staff, but so few people opened up to her kind.  Iliri were despised, only tolerated in their roles for the military.  She turned and looked into her mirror, wondering if makeup might be enough, but her vertically slit, white eyes stared back.

She wished, with all her might, that her eyes were a common deep brown, with round pupils and normal white sclera.  If she'd been born human, she could just talk the staff out of the information she needed.  A smile over a drink, a soft word of appreciation for the favor, a lie about a brother she didn't have... if she just could be one of them, she could get what she needed.  She could hide her fair skin with makeup.  Dye could change her hair.  Her hair could cover her ears.  She'd been pretending to act like a human for years.  All she needed were eyes that looked like everyone else's.

Bemoaning her breeding, Sal glanced again at her cursed eyes and found herself meeting a reflection she didn't recognize.  Brown eyes looked back from her face, the pupils round and dilated.

She gasped and took a step away from the mirror.  The brown eyes faded back to white and the pupils stretched back to her own.  She'd seen it, though.  Her own eyes, in her own face, had changed to those of someone else.  Not just anyone else, but common human eyes!  What had she done?  How was this possible?

She looked around her room, her mind struggling to grasp what had happened.  Had she seen someone else?  Was it an effect of the medication from that morning?  Hallucinations were common side effects weren't they?  Were the Blades playing a joke on her?  She glanced again and saw her own face glance back.

Flinging herself back on her bed, Sal tried to explain it.  She thought of all she knew about her species, which sadly wasn't much.  She'd witnessed things that made no sense in the first days of her trial, so she dared to hope.  Arctic allowed people to talk in each other's heads and blamed it on his iliran ancestry.  Shift could heal with a wish.  Maybe she could do something like that? 

Sal tried to envision a beautiful woman, the type of person she wished she was.  Long, coffee-colored hair, tawny skin, and eyes as brown as fresh turned soil; she'd be curvaceous and desirable.  Her nose would be dished and delicate.  Her eyes would fit her face, not overtake it.  She would be dark – not too dark, she didn't want to appear well bred – and normal ears.  She'd have ears that stayed against the side of her head like they should.

She built the image in her mind, seductively beautiful but not out of reach.  Men's tongues wagged more to a pretty face, hence that was the type of face she wanted.  She focused on the details of her imagined facade then pulled herself from the bed and glanced at the mirror.  Looking back at her, she found her own reflection with darkened eyes.  Frustrated, she tried harder.  She wished her pale hair would curl and change, thinking about it morphing from her skull to the ends.  Staring intently at her reflection, she strained her mind for just a bit more color, just a bit more curl – and then saw it happening, something deep in her brain struggling to comply.  From her scalp, a tint of color washed down.  Where it passed, the hair twisted, becoming shorter with each bend. 

Hoping, but not really believing it possible, Sal's mouth fell open.  She took in the transformation, looking out from her new brown eyes.  She'd done it!  Miraculously, she could alter her own appearance. 

Then it stopped.

Once she lost the image in her mind, her body began to revert.  Her hair lost color, the locks falling limp and straight once more.  The eyes faded and her own alien ones returned.  Frustrated, she snarled and flung her fist out, catching the nearby wall.  Pain shot up her arm, chiding her for the insolence.

Sal threw her head back and growled at the ceiling.  If she could do this, if she could master it, she would have all she needed to achieve her dream.  To be valued as a soldier, respected as a fighter, and have the power of authority behind her to protect her from the hate of humans.  It was all she'd ever wanted, and in order to get it, she needed to be able to blend in.  If the partially-human Blades could find amazing powers within themselves, then Sal could do this.  Being iliri had to have some advantage!  She just needed to focus harder, build a better image, and have patience.  Tilting her head back to the mirror, she concentrated. 

In her mind, she pictured the woman she wanted to be.  She thought about the way her face and body would change: pigment was needed here, curls there.  When she focused, it happened.  Slowly at first, the color creeping in so subtly that it would've been easy to miss, but she refused to give up.  When the bones of her face shifted, her skin swelled and softened.  It was awkward, but oddly it didn't hurt.  Her cheeks rounded, her lips plumped, and her overly large eyes slimmed to fit her new features.  Her skin darkened, until standing there was the woman she wanted.  She'd become a human.

Before Sal shifted her position, she thought about how this new body would move.  She'd be slower, less precise, and more languid in her actions.  She'd move like a dancer, not a fighter. Holding that vision, she asked her body to do it, watching as her new reflection obeyed.  The strange woman leaned away from the mirror and stepped back, turning while holding Sal's eyes.  She walked across her small room, around the bed, and out of sight of the reflection.  She sat, then lay on the bed, before climbing back to her feet and looking in the mirror again.

A beautiful, soft woman looked back, wearing Sal's standard issue military fatigues.  All her life, she'd wished to be darker skinned, taller, and less exotic.  Like anyone, she longed to be beautiful, to have the power to draw eyes at her whim.  Her mind wandered, thinking about the men from her past, like the clerk from Fort Landing or that one officer.  What would those men think now, seeing this new body?  She envisioned the revenge she could have but realized her new form was fading.  She quickly turned her mind back to her ideal and focused on staying in this amazing body.  The fading stopped and color returned when her mind held the image.

It seemed she must keep a portion of her attention on how she should look.  When her mind wandered, her body changed back to the form it knew.  Pondering that, she allowed the visage to slip, resuming her blanched features, and threw herself on her bed.  She stared at the ceiling, trying to wrap her mind around her new-found ability. 

She could change her form.  Were there limits?  Would it wear off suddenly?  Could she become a man?  She tried to find ways this could set her ahead of her competition.  The easiest would be to impersonate a Black Blade and ask for clarification from another, but their mental link made that problematic.  Deciding it was worth knowing, Sal again made her way to the mirror.

She stripped out of her clothes and thought of the First Sergeant.  Arctic's pale beauty, his strong features, and his piercing, icy gaze were easy to bring to mind.  She focused on the way he moved, his mannerisms, and his amazing good looks.  Slowly, the change began.  Her entire body felt as though it turned to liquid, drifting under her skin before solidifying into something larger.  To her own eyes, the appearance was disconcerting.  Her petite features slid and distorted into that of someone else.  She changed into a man, but it was not the man she wanted.  He could be Arctic's brother, but his shoulders were too broad, his nose too thin, and his eyes too large.  She tried to adjust the features, concentrating on making Arctic stand before her, but her body didn't have a blueprint for him.  It only achieved what she told it to. 

Sal's mind just could not capture the nuances of a particular person.  She could tell she wasn't Arctic, but couldn't figure out how to make the right changes.  She couldn't just take over the life of another to achieve her goals. 

Curious, she looked down at the reflection of her masculine body.  Her breasts were flat and between her legs hung flesh she was not accustomed to.  Giggling, the sound of her masculine voice strange in her ears, she decided to continue the experiment.  Sal moved into the washing room and wrapped her hand around the new appendage, then tried to release her bladder.  A few drops preceded the stream, which arced out in a way she didn't expect.  Urinating on the floor, she adjusted and managed to hit the basin.  Empty, but laughing at herself, she grabbed a cloth and cleaned the mess – both on herself and in the room – while allowing her form to revert to the body she'd known all her life.  Maybe being a man was harder than she expected.

But Sal had an advantage over her competitors now.  Next, she needed to get a better understanding of how the Blades worked to assess their abilities.  Knowing the planned trial would do her little good if she didn't understand how to utilize what they could do.  With that decided, she changed into clean clothing and headed to where she would find them: the pub.