Nothing compared to betraying all Brions; no physical pain ever came close to knowing you'd failed that important test of knowing what was right from wrong.
The question didn't mean getting kicked out of the academy. Only those who carried out the mission were removed from the ranks and greeted by nothing but a curt dismissal. In an ironic way, it was a sign you were in—that the captain wanted you to repent and be a better warrior for it in the future.
Corden remembered hearing that question after he'd lost his temper many, many years ago. As he rested his head between his hands, fiddling with the strand of hair that would become his braid, he had worn that same look on his face as the originals did now. So his estimation had been correct. They'd all heard the question too.
Some things never changed.
He'd known it would get their attention. No one ever forgot the moment they're told that they failed the one thing they were born to do.
"It's been a long mission," he said.
They stared at him and Corden stared back. Small, subtle signs spoke volumes to him. A few gazes burned with hatred for him, for dragging up a memory they'd clearly suppressed. A few looked lost. And those he was interested in were angry too, but the anger was turned within.
"About time you quit."
In the silence that followed, laughter rang out. One of the originals was laughing, but it was a hopeless, maniacal laugh.
"Quit," he repeated with a hoarse voice. "There is no quitting anymore. We are the mission. We will never leave the mission. This is where we will die."
That was familiar too. Many warriors, when they realized they were too far into the doomed task, thought it was better to follow through to the end. It was considered the worst of failures, but no one told the young Brions that.
Corden knew, because he'd dealt out his fair share of missions and judgments during his long service.
"It is never too late," he said. "I am testing you right now. I will make this easy for you because you are clearly not that bright."
He ignored the furious growls from some of them. They were beginning to edge closer while four of them stood so still it was like they were nailed to the ground.
"You have strayed so far from the true Brion path that I shouldn't have to point it out to you. Serving that madman, allowing copies to be made of you, sharing your glories with your imitations. I offer you one last way out."
"There is no way out!" roared the man who had laughed.
Corden paid him no attention. His eyes were fixed on those who still hadn't moved.
"I offer you no forgiveness. No consolation. You'd spend your entire life making up for choosing the wrong path. No one would ever trust you."
"And what is the worth in that?" asked another who was coming closer to him. "There is no reward in it. No victory."
"There is very little, yes," Corden finished. "All I offer is everything. You will get to die a Brion. You will see home again, see Briolina."
"We will see Briolina anyway," said the first lost soul. "General Worgen will bring back our true way of life. One of power and victory."
With absolute calm, Corden pulled his spear free. The valor squares on his neck burst to life in a victorious, justified bright blood red. The clear white walls of the hall were painted in his colors and the originals hesitated.
Corden waited, thinking of Lana. The men before him didn't scare him, but not knowing what was going on with her did. He ached to be back near her, looking after her safety. She was the only certain and sure thing in his life. Her and—#p#分页标题#e#
"He will never reach Briolina," he said, the hall magnifying his deep, powerful voice. The general saw the men take a step back. "Last chance."
After a second that seemed to last for an eternity, two men moved. Their companions glared with unguarded shock, but to their credit, neither turned to look back nor slowed down before they stood before Corden. Both stared at him with gleaming eyes filled with unimaginable emotion where before there had been nothing.
"General," said one. "Sir," said the other.
He gave both a look, but graced neither with an answer. They took places on either side of him.
A risk, Corden thought. Possible threats out of my field of vision.
He thought of Lana again, of never seeing his gesha's beautiful smile when all he wanted was to hold her in his arms, one more time, forever.
"Your names," he ordered, keeping an eye on the seven that remained opposite him.
"Tuven."
"Ilen."
"I will remember," he replied. "Kill them."
They charged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Corden
The two turncoats kept their positions by his side. That was good. They'd passed their first test of hundreds to come.
Fighting with them was uncomfortable, but Corden settled himself to deal with it. Their battle stances were slightly different, the way they moved always a bit off, but they took his stride and managed to follow fairly well. It was unusual for all three of them, which was far from an advantage, but two was more than he'd expected.
Corden chose to ignore them after an initial check to see if they were going to try and stab him in the back. But seeing the almost glazed-over look in their eyes, he knew they wouldn't. Both of the warriors had a goal now. Corden didn't know for a fact what about his words had turned them—Briolina or their honor or all of it—but clearly it had worked.
He suspected it was Briolina. The home of all Brions, in more ways than one. Their home world was a symbol of them all, the one thing that united every Brion out there. The planet that had spirit, apparently capable of holding a warrior true to it even after a century.
The other seven were all the more determined to kill them for it. Corden saw each of them for what they were. The two who'd argued with him had gone too far, no longer seeing a way back from their treacherous path. Even Corden's offer hadn't been good enough for them. One or two looked like they were going to turn sides during the fight, but Corden wouldn’t let them. It was too late; they'd missed their chance.
He cut through them, his spear moving so fast it kept a neat, circular area around him untouched. Anyone who stepped into it was bound to lose at least a limb. In the middle of it, Corden was a whirlwind of motion, the spear twirling in his hands wildly, blocking strikes from every side.
Without a warning, he twirled the spear around in his hands, aiming a powerful strike behind him. He could hear it pierce the armor the warrior wore, the telltale signs of a ruptured lung evident in his wheezing breath. The man collapsed, instantly trampled by the others to end Corden.
They had failed his test and they knew it. Although they had lacked the strength to accept his punishment, they hated the general for reminding them of their failures.
Corden grinned. It was good fight, a righteous one. He wasn't only taking down enemies, he was getting revenge for all Brions that the originals had shamed.
The two fighting alongside him were silent and grim, no doubt thinking of their endless punishment, but Corden had little sympathy for them. In contrast, the six still standing opposed to them were snarling, hissing in fury. They were doing everything they could to bring Corden down, but he refused to give them that satisfaction. The six kept coming for his legs, but Corden jumped back every time, using the deadly spears for stepping stones in the next moment.
He wished he could have given them more time to realize their inevitable defeat, but the thought of Lana kept urging him onward. Corden wanted to return to her as soon as possible, to see if she was all right. He trusted Yarel to handle the organizing, but not to protect Lana when the need arose.
He tried a feint, striking too wide of an arc. Immediately, one of the originals stabbed the spear toward his heart, but Corden ducked under it, lightning fast. He grabbed ahold of the spear and held it in place to block the next strike. The force of the blow shook the spear free from its owner's grip and the next moment found the warrior dead with a red line on his throat.
Corden had already turned to the others, dropping the spear. It looked like keeping a good hold on your weapon was a recent thing. Even Worgen had let himself be disarmed like that.#p#分页标题#e#
By his side, Tuven and Ilen were doing their share. They'd both brought down one of their former brothers and no regret showed on their faces. It seemed eternity was a lonely place and finally their age showed in their eyes, a century of bad decisions. Corden charged ahead of them, bending almost in half when he had to lean back to avoid getting his throat pierced.
The trick allowed him to bring his own spear about, cutting a deep gash in the other warrior's stomach. The man slumped, entrails spilling out from between his fingers.
That left the last two. Normally, Corden would have finished them himself, but he left the task to his two new warriors. He stood back, allowing them to go one-on-one against the originals. At times, the fight was fierce, but neither of them called for his aid and Corden wouldn't have offered if they had. It was their test, their trial.
When it was all over, he was more than pleased to find himself and his two standing. They were both panting while Corden had barely worked up a sweat. Even the originals were no real challenge for him unless some bizarre occurrence happened that distracted him from the fight.