The Majat Testing



  THE MAJAT TESTING

  A STORY OF THE MAJAT CODE

  by Anna Kashina

  Copyright 2014 by Anna Kashina

  Egey Bashi paused in the doorway and glanced around the audience chamber. The boy, Mik, was waiting as instructed, standing at the far end. He looked so small and skinny against the large arched window. As Egey Bashi strode toward him, his eyes inadvertently sought out the fading rope imprints, two deep scars across each wrist and one at the base of the neck. There were more, he knew, hidden under the boy’s loose outfit.

  People could be such animals at times. So fortunate that Egey Bashi had happened to wander deeper into the caves in his search of the black trabecular fungus used in some of his more potent potions.

  He cursed as the edge of his long robe caught on a dented flagstone. Damn the official garb. No man should ever be forced to wear a white floor-length frock with ridiculously long sleeves, a sorry excuse for a cloak. At least he should feel grateful for the recently earned lock-and-key embroidery on his left shoulder that signified his promotion from an apprentice to a full Initiate rank within the Order of Keepers.

  As he approached, Mik calmly returned his glance. Not for the first time, Egey Bashi marveled at how this child held himself. Where did this half-starved groundling, no older than twelve, get such an air of superiority that made Egey Bashi, an accomplished scholar and ten years his senior, feel like a boy?

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  “Should I be?”

  Egey Bashi crossed his arms on his chest. “The Majat Guild sent a Diamond-ranked warrior to test you. Aghat Arin.”

  The boy squared his shoulders. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  Egey Bashi shrugged, watching the boy. Mik looked tense as a string. And well he should be. A Diamond Majat was like a one-man army, an elite mercenary only a king could afford. Egey Bashi’s own curiosity was tinged with nervousness. How was one supposed to talk to a person who could kill you with a casual flick of a hand?

  “Yes, it’s damned well supposed to impress you,” he said. “These men are like royalty within their Guild. The Majat only have a few that ever achieve this rank. The fact that they’ve sent one here for your sake is an honor.”

  He regretted the harshness of his tone as soon as the words escaped his lips. Mik had seen far too much abuse for a child his age, more than anyone should ever bear. If only Egey Bashi could learn who did this to him. But the boy clammed up every time the subject came up. In fact, for a while after his arrival everyone at the White Citadel had believed him to be mute.

  Mik’s eyes trailed to the Keeper’s belt where the hilt of his concealed weapon protruded from the folds of his robe. “What kind of a weapon is this?”

  Egey Bashi sighed. No matter what his conversations with Mik were about, in the end it all came back to weapons.

  “It’s called “˜shektal’.”

  “May I see it?”

  Egey Bashi reached to his belt to remove the whip-like weapon, its main length a long string of overlapping double-edged steel links. Deep inside, he didn’t feel surprised. Mik must have inspected every weapon in sight during the last couple of weeks, after the healers released him from their care. He was good with most of them, too. Egey Bashi wondered if handling a weapon made this boy calm down, like a personal form of meditation.

  He handed it to the boy. “Be careful not to—”ﾝ

  Words froze on his lips as the whip came alive in the boy’s hand. The long streak of steel unfolded to its full length, its sharp end biting into an unlit torch fixed on the wall, chipping off a long sliver of wood.

  “Not bad,” Mik said, flicking the weapon into a folded state with a casual wrist movement.

  Egey Bashi released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I thought you said you’ve never seen one before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then how did you...”

  Mik shrugged. “It feels exactly like a whip.”

  “A dangerous one. One can do serious damage with it.”

  “Yes.” The boy’s blue eyes slid over the chipped torch with an expression that looked suspiciously similar to satisfaction.

  “Is there any weapon you aren’t good with?” Egey Bashi asked.

  Mik’s face became serious, as if the question was a purely scholarly one.

  “I don’t like heavy ones. A club or a heavy mace—definitely not for me. Although, one can do true wonders with a properly balanced club...” His eyes became dreamy, as if he had just evoked a pleasant memory.

  Inadvertently, Egey Bashi rubbed his wrist, still sore after the incident down at the stables. Ever since Mik started to be up and about he had been nothing but trouble—and Egey Bashi, who had taken Mik’s fate as his personal matter, often ended up on the receiving end of it.

  “Just don’t attack anyone on sight, all right?” he said.

  The boy cocked his head. “Won’t the Majat messenger want me to fight him?”

  “You know you won’t stand a chance against a Diamond.”

  “Won’t I?”

  Egey Bashi heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look, I have no idea what he’ll want you to do. You do want to become a Majat, don’t you?”

  Mik lifted his chin. “It depends on what their Guild has to offer me.”

  A thud of the opening doors at the end of the hall halted a retort on Egey Bashi’s lips. The Diamond Majat is here. He spun around, his nervousness mixing with an unexpected surge of relief. With luck, this impossible child would cease to be his problem very soon. Dear Shal Addim, just let him pass the Majat testing, whatever it is, please?

  Egey Bashi blinked in disbelief as he watched the lone figure enter the hall at a measured walk. Just in case, he glanced at Mik, whose dumbfounded expression likely mirrored his own.

  A woman?

  Yes, and a damned attractive one.

  Why in the world did he assume that Arin was a man’s name?

  She looked to be in her early twenties, her slim, elegant figure clad in an expertly tailored black outfit that made Egey Bashi’s jaw drop. He had never seen so much exposed skin—not in public, at any rate. Her shirt—no, not a shirt, a scarf tied in thick straps over her shoulders and breasts—closed at the back, leaving her stomach bare above the low waistline of her pants that draped down to her soft, ankle-high boots without hiding any of her muscular lines. A weapon belt, adorned with knives and throwing daggers, fit so well over the shapely curves of her hips that it looked more like a piece of jewelry than a functional item. He had to admit that the way the cloth wrapped her body, fitting tightly in all the right spots, must be ideally fit for action. Still, it should be illegal for anyone to walk into the Keepers’ inner sanctum dressed like this. Weren’t the Majat warriors supposed to wear armor or something?

  He forced his eyes back to her face. She had high cheekbones and slanted, almond-shaped eyes the color of dark honey, nicely accented by her smooth, sun-kissed skin with an exotic olive tint. Her thick mahogany hair, tied into a tight ponytail, gave off a reddish gleam, its silky waves brushing her shoulders as she walked. Watching her cross the hall and stop in front of them made Egey Bashi think of sunlit meadows and warm lakes, not of blades and arrows that completed her rather scant outfit.

  He swallowed, finding his voice. “Aghat Arin, I presume?”

  She nodded, her quick sarcastic smile making him blush. Damn, am I that obvious? He dismissed the thought. In all likelihood this Majat girl was used to such reaction from strangers. Nothing to fret about.

  “This is Mik,” he said, pointing to the boy. “Mikkel. I believe you must have been informed about his circumstances, Aghat.”

  Arin’s honey-colored eyes slid over the boy with the attention that mad
e Egey Bashi instantly uncomfortable. He knew very little about what it took to achieve the top rank at the Majat Guild. In the Order of Keepers, women were plentiful at command posts, including their current leader, Mother Keeper. Why would seeing this female warrior surprise him so much? Or was it the fact that she was more attractive than anyone had a right to be?

  He snapped back to attention under Arin’s scrutinizing gaze. She seemed to take in his entire shape from head to toe in one quick glance that made him sweat.

  “The Majat testing is a private procedure,” she said.

  Egey Bashi caught Mik’s alarmed gaze. “We’re aware of it, Aghat. However, Mother Keeper hoped you would allow me to stay. As an exception. I was the one who discovered Mik’s talent, and the biggest proponent of his Majat testing.”

  Her long eyelashes fluttered, throwing deep shadows into the corners of her eyes. “Were there opponents too?”

  “Oh, yes,” Egey Bashi said, before he could think better. “Many believe this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  Egey Bashi glanced at the wood chip on the floor, then at the tilted torch on the wall. Arin followed his gaze.

  “For one, he’s older than usual for your trainees, isn’t he?”

  Arin turned to Mik. “How old are you?”

  Mik squared his shoulders. “Thirteen. Almost.”

  She nodded. “Twelve, then.” She measured him with another disconcerting glance, her eyes stopping on the healing rope scars. “How did you get these?”

  Mik clenched his teeth and edged back. From up close, Egey Bashi could see the boy shiver. His stomach knotted, just like it did the first time when he discovered Mik, deeper in a side cavern he wasn’t originally planning to visit. Only four weeks ago. The boy had gone such a long way since then. Was it long enough to let him face this test?

  Arin frowned. “I’m not here to waste time, boy. You will answer my questions.”

  Mik met her eyes levelly. “My name’s Mik.”

  “I know.”

  “Then—you should address me accordingly.”

  “I am.”

  Mik’s eyes narrowed.

  Egey Bashi took an inadvertent step back. Only now did he notice the two curved blades strapped across Arin’s back—narrow and double-edged, their dark steel giving off a soft, suffused gleam. Algarian steel? Well, the Majat Guild was certainly rich enough to afford it. He swallowed. Would she really expect Mik to fight her as part of this test? Or, would she turn around and leave just because the boy refused to answer her question?

  Was she provoking Mik on purpose?

  “So,” Arin said. “What can you do that makes everyone here believe you’re so special, boy?”

  Mik’s jaw muscles knotted. “I’m good with weapons. I thought they told you that.”

  “Which weapons?”

  “All of them.”

  Her full lips twitched into an annoying smile. “How about throwing daggers?”

  “You want me to throw daggers?”

  “I want you to catch them.”

  “Catch?”

  Her arm moved so fast that for a brief moment it seemed to blur. Mik barely had time to jump aside as six throwing daggers whirled past, burying deep into the wooden beam supporting the window sill.

  Egey Bashi let out a breath.

  “Are you out of your mind, Aghat?” he demanded. “You could have killed him!”

  Arin’s eyes slid over him with quick irony, forcing him to subside. His superiors would have his hide if they heard him address a Diamond Majat in this way. Still, wasn’t she taking it too far?

  “These daggers are bloody sharp,” he said a tone lower, hoping against reason that this could somehow pass for an apology.

  “I certainly hope so,” she said dryly.

  Egey Bashi took a breath, trying to quiet his racing heart. Of course, she probably knew exactly where each of her blades would land. Still, if Mik moved in a wrong way... Egey Bashi suppressed a shiver, watching color slowly return to the boy’s face. He recognized the squared jaw, the upturned chin, the narrowed eyes. Please don’t do anything stupid, he pleaded silently.

  Mik stepped forward.

  “Did you expect me to catch your daggers?” he demanded.

  Arin shrugged. “If you were good enough.”

  “Can you catch them?”

  She held the pause. Her posture changed slightly, coming from relaxed to alert without any visible change in her stance.

  Mik’s hand darted to the nearest dagger. Egey Bashi saw the boy stagger just a bit as he pulled, clearly not expecting the force needed to dislodge the blade. Then his hands came into motion, flicking faster than conscious thought as he flung the daggers back at Arin, one after another.

  Egey Bashi held his breath. Once again he saw Arin’s slender shape blur briefly as she slid—not away from the daggers, as he expected, but directly into their path. In his distorted perspective of time it seemed that the way she raised her hands—in a drawn, lazy gesture—could not possibly be fast enough to intercept the blades. Do we add a Diamond Majat to our list of injuries? Great. The thought slipped through Egey Bashi’s mind almost too fast—yet far slower than the action unraveling in front of him.

  Arin completed her move and came to a standstill on a single beat, motionless like a statue. The daggers fanned out neatly in her hands—three in each. She paused, sliding a thoughtful glance over Mik, then slipped the daggers back into their slots at her belt.

  Egey Bashi opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find his voice. “Did you expect Mik to be able to do that?” he demanded.

  Arin turned to him and for a brief moment he seemed to catch a frown of annoyance on her face.

  “I need to know how good his reflexes are,” she said.

  “And?” Mik’s voice sounded unnaturally high.

  “And what?”

  “Will I do?”

  She looked him up and down. “Like I said, boy. You have to prove to me that you’re fit to be a Majat.”

  “Oh, do I?” Mik darted to Egey Bashi and, before the Keeper could move, grasped the shektal off his belt. Egey Bashi’s movement to intercept—as well as a curse on his lips—froze, each too late to catch on with the action.

  Mik’s body unfolded, the shektal a natural extension of his hand as he lashed it at Arin. The boy seemed like a whip himself, flexible and smooth. Damn it, where did he learn to fight like that? Egey Bashi held his breath. For a moment it didn’t seem to him that even a Diamond Majat could stand up to Mik’s fury, but he instantly realized how wrong he was.

  Once again, Arin’s movements, faster than time, also seemed slow and lazy as if they weren’t costing her any effort. She reached up and drew one curved blade from behind her back.

  Egey Bashi had never seen a sword held like that—upward, parallel to her arm with the tip near her shoulder. As she parried the lash of the razor-sharp shektal, the weapons seemed glued. Mik pulled back, but Arin was so much faster as she followed his movement, sliding her weapon parallel to his, twisting it, changing the grip so that her arm itself seemed to unfold to a double length, extended by a narrow curved sword. She pulled up, the shektal wrapped tightly around it, and gave it a sharp tug. Mik cried out and let go.

  She caught the shektal in her off hand and folded it neatly with a casual flick of the wrist, handing it back to the Keeper. Then, just as calmly, she sheathed her own blade, turned, and walked out of the hall.

  Egey Bashi and Mik stood for a long moment, looking after her.

  “Well,” Egey Bashi said at length, “I guess all this testing was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” He turned to Mik. To his amazement, the boy’s expression was wistful, almost dreamy, as he continued to stare at the door.

  “I want to learn to move like that,” Mik said quietly.

  Egey Bashi’s eyes widened. “You do?”

  “Yes.” Mik grinned, his face lighting up with excitement. “I’ll prove myself to her. I’ll find a way.”


  Egey Bashi shrugged. In all his years at the White Citadel he should have learned not to be surprised. Yet, Mik was a difficult one to figure out.

  “Good luck,” he mumbled under his breath, and followed the boy out of the hall.