The Modakku Anthologies: The Complete Collection

By Ley Esses

Can a prophecy be broken? I’m old. Long past the prime of my life, I’m more than content to live out the rest of my days as a teacher among the tribes. When I first met Ilanna, I thought she was like every other student in my class. A little odd, perhaps, in that she has an inner strength and maturity not often found in one her age.Then the unthinkable happens and the school is destroyed. She and I are the only survivors, taken by the nomadic clansmen. Our enemies are violent and relentlessly cruel. We must learn to lean on each other if we ever hope to make it through the winter, and to freedom on the other side.This book contains all three novels in the Modakku Anthologies: Fog and Flame, Snow and Ash, and Water and Bone. Together, they tell one story - Ilanna’s story - of torment, magic, and legacy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ley Esses
• Release date: Jan 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781948754279

Book preview

Chapter One

We met the same day the tribesmen now call the Day of Hot Rain. She wasn’t a queen yet—just my student. I was a teacher back then at a school large enough to have six teachers. Tribesmen hundreds of miles away sent their most promising and most elite young people to study with us. I taught the specialty classes for the older students. Architecture was my favorite but tactics, history, and mathematics were all topics I covered. Archery, swordsmanship, and command were all considered basic classes that every student took. I confess, I preferred the specialty classes—the students at least wanted to participate in those.

It was Ilanna’s first day, and unfortunately for her, also the first test of the season. She was about sixteen years old then, but still wiser than most adults I knew.

That day she took the test with the rest of her classmates. It was normal for the class to wait within the room and socialize while I graded. She hadn’t caught my eye yet, so I don’t recall if she was making friends on her first day or not. It was her response to that test that made her first stand out to me.

Thank you, she answered as I gave her the graded paper. The class was architecture and, it being her first day, she naturally failed the test.

Understand that the students who came across my class could mostly be sorted into two groups: the know-it-alls and the self-deprecators. The humility in her tone and words immediately put her in the second category.

It’s okay to fail this, I told her before letting go of the pages.

Her response was accompanied by a small smile. I know.

Then why are you thanking me? I was compelled to ask. It was not the typical response from students like her. I didn’t realize then that I would only ever meet one person like her again.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know before. Now I do. Although the words sounded cryptic at first, she made a great deal of sense.

I offered to introduce her to the concepts of architecture after class, and it wasn’t until after sunset we finally started wrapping up. I remember sharing one of my books with her and mentally noting that she was sweet—if a little headstrong—a quick study, and that she would not take long to catch up with her peers.

That was when the attack started. It was like thunder, shaking the ground and heart alike. I remember rejecting that thought immediately. It was abnormally dry for this time of year, and had been all week.

A storm? Ilanna asked me.

I could normally smell moisture in the air, even behind those stone walls, but not this time.

Two more loud—but somewhat distant—quakes answered her before I could.

Clansmen, I corrected, keeping the alarm out of my voice as I listened. The clansmen were nomads, traveling on horseback through the tribal lands. Almost every tribal leader had led a campaign to wipe them out, but the clansmen were elusive and numerous. I myself had spent six years of my prime as their slave, used for my knowledge as well as manual labor while they led campaigns against my own people. Decades ago. Escape had been impossible, but eventually I had earned my freedom and I returned home, ultimately to teach.

When I looked at Ilanna, she was emerging from my workstation with my sword and bow in hand, handing the former to me as she slung the quiver over her shoulder, clearly ready to defend herself and the school from our attackers.

You any good with that? I asked as I took the sword. Archers were usually easy to tell apart from swordsmen—each used different and distinct muscle groups—but she had the look of neither.

Not really. Still, she pulled an arrow from its brothers and placed it loosely on the string.

Part of me wanted to send her back to the student rooms, but I didn’t know where on campus was safe and where should be avoided. Safest was next to me, I decided. For the moment. It was the teachers’ job to take up arms to defend the students. Recalling which direction in the forest the booms had come from, I stepped out of my classroom.

The students knew to move quietly. The older would protect the younger, and those who had excelled in their classes would be capable defenders. As I went outside, I couldn’t see any of the attackers, but one of the students caught my eye.

Shaddum. He was one of my longest-trained students—I and the other teachers here had practically raised him—and he was quite a capable young warrior. But this time, he wasn’t armed. He had his little gang of about eight students nearby. Though insolent toward the other teachers, he had chosen to obey me and was looking to me for instruction. The group was a fair distance away but easy enough to see as other students sped past.

I lifted my sword so he could see it clearly and pointed toward the armory, then toward the library. The latter was the only tall building and a reasonable enough place to make a stand.

Is someone taking out the heavy weapons? Ilanna's whisper disturbed the quiet behind me.

I nodded. The two men who taught the younger classes were brothers and quite adept and capable in guerrilla combat. They knew their roles in the fight, as did I.

Ilanna followed me to the library, where everything was surprisingly normal inside.

Students littered the area. Most were in the center of the library’s open space playing drums and laughing and enjoying themselves. The rest were among the tomes or on the indoor balcony to my left.

They were completely unaware.

My mind silently begged them to be still and not draw attention to themselves. The library tended to be one of the loudest places on campus, except for the courtyard and the dining hall. It was a place where new skills were applied and arts flourished. It was a place for students to alleviate the stress and exhale.

But that was not the time for relaxing.

Frustration boiled in me at the joyous sounds. They needed to be armed and ready.

I hurried to the center of the circle, swinging my sword around me at a safe distance, but close enough to get their attention.

The gesture had the intended effect of immediate silence. These students were a little younger than Shaddum and most of his gang.

Go to your rooms and keep yourselves there, I ordered, my voice low. Now.

As they scuttled out, I looked to Ilanna to convince her to go with them.

She spoke before I could give her the order to do the same. I haven't been assigned one yet. Right. Quite a first day for her.

Ilanna would be safest by my side, I decided, and I honestly didn’t mind the company. She hadn’t expressed outward panic or fear but rather a willingness to help. For the moment, at least, I’d let her stay.

So we waited in silence for a full two minutes, ducking behind the only desk near the center of the room.

I knew the library. It was longer than it was wide, with a balcony that could be accessed from the outside to the east or from the inside to the west. I kept Ilanna low, hidden beneath the solid oak desk, and left my sword unsheathed.

The thunderous heavy weapons seemed to have stopped, but I knew that was not the end. They’d send men on foot soon.

That's when I heard the clansmen on campus. A handful of voices, all coming from the ground level on the east side. They sauntered into the library, laughing and yanking books from the shelves. It broke my heart to hear the tomes treated so. Every one of them took months to pen by hand and I had written several of them myself.

I was so consumed with rage at our enemies that I lost my grip on the student by my side.

Ilanna must have felt the same fury as she chose that moment to spring up into the view of the clansmen. With a remarkably loud war cry, she loosed an arrow. I was admittedly surprised to hear it strike home, but in doing so, she drew attention to us both.

I only had a split second to decide whether to pull her down into hiding again or to join her.

I chose the latter.

The clansmen, plainly in front of me, were four in number and only carrying short blades made of bone or stone.

I threw myself over the desk, landing on my feet and swinging as the first charged to meet me. My weapon cleanly sliced his gut as he ran into it full-force. Before he even fell to the drums at my feet, my blade was already slashing towards the one Ilanna had shot.

A hail of arrows from the west end of the room interrupted my swing as they flew over my shoulders. They hit their marks—into my opponents—killing the last two where they stood.

I caught my breath as I watched them fall. We were safe.

For the moment.

I looked at our reinforcements, most of whom were students nearly finished at the school. Eight in total, with Shaddum at their lead. They all had bows and arrows in-hand and student-issued swords at their hips.

They were also entirely drenched.

What on earth? It was very dry outside just minutes ago.

Still, I nodded my thanks to the students before addressing their leader. Go for a swim? I asked him.

Shaddum answered with a shake of his head. It's raining.

Impossible! It was not the time for his prankster antics.

Another supported his friend before I could reprimand him. It's a hot rain.

Like soup, a third put in.

Or tea.

Was a clansman throwing hot water on you? It was the only conclusion that could come close to making sense in my imagination.

As one, they rejected the idea.

Rain, Shaddum repeated. Hot rain. It wasn't boiling or painful, but it was... odd.

I wasn’t aware of any natural phenomenon that would make rain hot.

That left only one explanation, and it made even less sense than the first idea.

The clansmen had a sorceress.

They were rare—maybe one in a generation—and each had a specific piece of nature they were able to manipulate. The only one I had met before was gifted with sand and fine dust. The old hag had almost choked me to death with it.

Now it seemed the clansmen had gotten their hands on another, one who was perhaps skilled with water? But why announce it this way? It wasn’t to hurt them, according to Shaddum. Were they trying to strike fear in the hearts of the tribes?

Ilanna interrupted us then. You two, to the north end of the balcony, and you two, south, she commanded. The order split our reinforcements in half—with the other four remaining on ground level—and covered the entire library in their protection.

The students all looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded. It was a reasonable plan.

Half a moment later, they were obeying, trotting up the steps. The only door near the center of the room was heavy and wooden along the north wall. It led to the main courtyard and the other surrounding buildings. We almost never opened it—students inevitably preferred the easy-to-open doors at the ends of the library.

Another student rushed into the library from the north side, also soaked to the core. If he’d had time to wield a weapon against our enemies, he had lost it. They're slaughtering us! he managed, out of breath. As if to emphasize his point, a scream came from behind him, in the direction of the dining hall. What do we do? he asked.

His question implied a statement that suddenly became obvious to me: I had to do more. I looked to Shaddum. He was still young, but ready to be tested. And I was out of options. Can you hold the library?

The student flicked a chunk of wet hair away from his forehead and gave a too-confident nod. Absolutely.

Good. I'll send any more I find here. There may be other fortified positions, so if I send for you, you are all to come. Am I clear?

As hot rain, Shaddum joked.

I leveled my gaze at him.

The young man's smile disappeared, replaced by a stern nod. Yes, sir.

As I headed to the west doors, I stopped as soon as I realized Ilanna was still at my heels. I turned to Ilanna, ready to order her back to her fellow students.

My father ordered me to stay safe, she said stubbornly before I could speak. That means staying with you.

Safe is here. I didn't have the patience to be diplomatic. Another scream echoed to us, this time from the courtyard. The clansmen were close, and Ilanna was wasting time. Your father—

—Is chieftain of the Denzu tribe.

I didn't know he had a daughter Ilanna's age.

That means he outranks you.

Fine. She could stay with me, and I could deal with her disobedience later.

The instant I stepped outside, I was drenched in the hot rain the young men had spoken about. The air was choked and muddy. My lungs protested, as if I was asking them to breathe underwater.

We stood in the courtyard—an open space between the buildings and the woods— which was used for dueling practice so frequently that the grasses there had been ground to bedrock.

It wasn't hard to hear the all-too-familiar slice and scream as someone was slain to my right. I spun in time to see Faenna—the only female teacher among us—fall to the ground.

Executed.

I closed my eyes and pushed Ilanna against the stone wall of the library, obscuring us from view as I choked on my emotions. I allowed myself two breaths before summoning my training. I let my battle mind take over, abandoning my heart for the moment.

The powerful-looking woman in the center of the courtyard was commanding her horde in the clansmen's native tongue. Another.

The strong warrior beside her wiped his blade.

But there are only so many females here, another complained.

The clansmen were looking for girls? Why? They were relatively scarce at the school, but not unheard of. Students had about the same gender ratio as the teachers: one in six.

The warrior pointed his bone-and-stone blade to the other clansmen. She said to bring another. So you will find another and bring her here. Got it?

Remembering my student, I pressed her back against the wall again. They're looking for females, I whispered in tribal to her. It was a rarity for anyone to speak both clansmen and tribal, but it was not a gift I was particularly grateful for. Still, I hoped the information might scare Ilanna into submission.

It didn't work.

Will they stop this once they find the girl they're looking for? her voice whispered close to my side. The honest answer was probably yes, but there was no way I was going to sacrifice a student. Not when there were other choices.

I shook my head and gave her a firm glare, not letting my hand off her shoulder until she nodded in submission.

I admit now, looking back, that I had let my emotions fuel my decision to attack the pair left in the courtyard. They had killed a teacher and likely dozens of students. But at the time, I had convinced myself that the pair I saw before me were the leaders of this attack, and that the clansmen would fall apart if only these two fell in battle.

The sudden rain, though driving, had not been pouring long enough to break the hard-packed ground of the courtyard, so running at the pair was easy.

As soon as I got into the fading light, though, they noticed me. With a twist of the woman's hands, the hot falling water turned biting, burning the skin in dots as it pelted me. With another flick, a glassy dart cut through the rain, landing just underfoot as I pushed myself toward her. Instead of shattering or splashing, it spread out like butter melting in a pan over the course of about half a second.

Ice.

My foot landed and immediately gave way under me. I promptly dropped my other foot onto the bedrock, slipping around the icy patch despite the pain in my now-twisted ankle, but I managed to stay standing.

When I looked up, an arrow sailed towards the sorceress. It flew over my shoulder but did not strike home.

Ilanna hadn’t stayed hidden. With her earlier comment about her lack of skills with the bow, I made a mental note to later talk with her about acceptable risks in battle.

I was close enough to hear the sorceress addressing her companion as she sent another dart of ice to my feet. Bring her to me.

No!

Leave our school, I demanded in clansman, keeping my sword level with the woman’s throat as I continued my slow advance.

My words drew little more than a turn from her. The clansman by her side was already launching forward to obey.

I sidestepped to my right, hoping to intercept the warrior before he reached my student.

Another ice dart beat me there, creating a frozen wall between myself and him as it connected to the rain, cracking like static in the air.

Ilanna would have to protect herself for the moment.

Faenna's body was still at the feet of the sorceress when I turned back. Every emotion filled me.

Fear? Absolutely. Battling a well-trained sorceress alone was practically suicide.

Sadness was also prevalent with the carnage of the school around me.

Even happiness was in the mix. I was glad to be on the battlefield despite the fear. Glad she showed no sign of surrender. That alone gave me permission to strike her down where she stood.

But anger was the purest and most overwhelming of all, guiding my steps as the raindrops turned to steam around me. No one was allowed to attack the school—my school—and particularly not a clansman.

I was the sword of justice.

Another shard of ice flew my direction, but I chopped it down before it could land. I was almost to her.

Then a blast of ice filled my nostrils and mouth. It started as frigid air, turning solid without ever becoming water. I tried to breathe around it—sharp cold shocking my lungs which had grown accustomed quickly to the hot humidity around me—but it only took a second for the blast to solidify within and over both airways at once like a hunter's mask.

My only hope was that killing the woman would break the enchantment keeping me from breathing. And even at more than twice the sorceress’s age, I could still do that in a single breath.

Ilanna screamed from somewhere behind me, but there was nothing I could do to help her in that moment.

When I was finally able to swing at the sorceress, she sidestepped lightly and my poorly-aimed chop went straight down into the ground. Another flick of her wrist froze the blade in place. With only a moment to choose between sword and air, I abandoned my weapon and started to claw at my own face. The ice wasn't melting. Too thick to crack.

The sorceress went on the offensive. She pounced on me, putting a palm against the ice over my mouth as if to silence an impossible scream. It only took a moment to realize what she was doing. Hot water burst through my ice mask and into my nose and lungs.

I swallowed what I could, but it was too much too quickly. My fists weakened as they beat against her, purchasing only a couple of seconds before I went down.

Ilanna's cries for help are the last thing I remember from that day.

Chapter Two

When I opened my eyes, I was frankly surprised to be alive. Why? Why would they spare me when they had killed Faenna?

It didn't matter. Nothing could be done with the information.

My next thought was that it hurt to breathe. My throat was sore—like a common winter illness but ten times as painful and covering at least thrice the distance internally. It burned past the collar bones and deep into my chest. I couldn't tell if it was the scalding hot water or the choking that made the life-giving air so painful to me. I swallowed out of habit, and was immediately reminded of how bad an idea that was.

Then the events that had brought me here came crashing back in full.

The attack on the school.

The execution of its only female teacher.

How many others had died or suffered worse fates?

Ilanna!

Guilt washed over me at her demise. It had been her first day and she seemed like such a bright—if stubborn—young woman. Perhaps the clansmen had spared her. If so, whatever future awaited her was sure to be unkind.

Best case scenario, she had escaped and I was the only captive of the clansmen and their powerful sorceress. Remembering Ilanna's cries as I had lost consciousness, I couldn't help but think that hope was foolish.

I blinked again, turning my attention to studying my surroundings.

My hands were bound behind my back in a light but effective knot, keeping me attached to what felt like a solid wooden post. A post that, when I looked up, I saw was holding up the dwelling. Tent cloth surrounded me on all sides, about ten feet away. I couldn't reach it without being freed. I could also tell it was a portable tent—typical of the nomadic clansmen. This one had six distinct sides, assuming their length and angles all matched the ones in my line of sight. Not a dwelling tent then, which were round. No tent flaps visible either, so the entrance was likely behind me.

I stretched my palms to the hard-packed ground and did what I could to turn myself, but I only got a small distance before my wrists touched another pole, just as unyielding as my own. I twisted unsuccessfully to look over my shoulder, still unable to see what bound me. Stretching out my fingers as wide as they would go, I was able to touch a third support.

Six sides.

Three posts driven deep into the hard rock.

This was a holding cell for prisoners.

Of course. That made perfect sense. But it told me several things. I knew these tents well. First, that I was in one of at least three such similar structures, all connected and sharing two of the six hide walls. Second, that I was near the center of the clan's camp. They intentionally put prisoners there so that, if someone should escape the tent, they would have to navigate through half the clan before they tasted freedom.

No smell of dogs, so I’d hadn’t been taken prisoner by the Pack clan. Ground didn’t sway, so not Water or Falcon. No rocks insulating the base of the tent, so not the Stone clan. Hearth or Horse, then. If Hearth, perhaps someone recognized me from the old days, and that was why I was spared.

I rubbed my chin against my shoulder. About a day’s worth of stubble. I had last shaved the morning before my last memory. Daylight underneath the flaps of the tent, so it was probably morning again. I could reasonably conclude I had been here through one night, and not much longer.

The last thing I recognized—and perhaps the most disturbing fact—was that the ground around the base of the pole I was bound to was very hard. These posts had to have been driven deep into the ground when it was soft—perhaps last spring—before it dried over the summer to ensure security.

They had planned for this. Not for a day or even a week, but for months. It took a particular kind of leadership to convince a clan to stay put for so long.

The glimmer of hope was that I, at least for the moment, was alone. That meant they hadn't taken as many prisoners as they had planned to. Each of the three prisoners’ tents held three prisoners comfortably, or six if they were desperate. With my otherwise empty tent, that meant no more than twelve prisoners, but more likely fewer than six in total, other than myself.

I calculated that was maybe five percent of the total student population. The rest were dead, ignored, or escaped.

Whatever the case, help was not coming.

If this camp had been there a while, and all evidence pointed to at least a season, then it was well-hidden enough to elude any would-be rescuers.

The tent’s entry behind me flapped open. A second later, a clansman warrior—barefoot and bare-chested despite the coming winter—stood towering above me. He glared down at me for a moment before speaking. Do you understand me? he asked in the clansmen tongue.

For a moment I considered lying and pretending not to, but I quickly rejected the idea. It would only serve to antagonize my captors. Instead I swallowed, preparing to speak, and was reminded again of the soreness that persisted there. Finally, I simply nodded.

Good. A short, hard whistle emanated from the man. The utter volume of the sound startled me. He smelled like horse. No hope of help from my former captors, then.

It took a full fifteen seconds of silence—with this clansman standing over me as I half-knelt, half-sat bound to the support pole—for anything to happen. But when it did, the tent was suddenly a flurry of movement.

Fourteen more people crammed into my line of sight: seven clansmen, each with their hands laced firmly through the hair of a prisoner. I recognized the weeping faces of my students, and exclusively the female ones. They were in varying states of disarray but I was selfishly glad to see Ilanna among them. At least I had not gotten her killed. Yet.

But why were they here?

When they were all in place, the man standing over me addressed me again. Which one is the most powerful?

What kind of a question was that?

At first I thought I had misunderstood him—it had been years since I had spoken more than a few words of the clansmen language—but it was a sincere question. I had no idea what to make of it.

I looked over them, recalling their names and skills.

Anhurm had been under my tutelage the longest, and Otsuuc had shown the most skill in combat practice. Krin showed the most potential, but she was easily the youngest of the group. I didn't know Ilanna well enough to evaluate her.

Tell us, cavedweller, or we go back for another harvest. And kill the entirety of this one, he implied.

I realized then that the clansmen took as many female students as they could find with the intention of only sparing one. The most powerful. And I had been spared only to make that choice.

I wanted to refuse—to stubbornly deny my captor any answers—but even as I wished it, I knew what it meant. Angering him would only result in seven bodies on my conscience. I was given the chance to make that only six.

I don't know if it was guilt or fate talking, but I made my decision. The sixth one. I managed my first words since my near drowning, referring to Ilanna.

The man nodded slowly, as if he had predicted my answer.

Of course. I had forgotten that six was a sacred number among the clansmen. Six clans, rites of passage every six years as they approached adulthood, hunting parties grouped by six. Slaves were kept for six years—if they survived—before being released again. Six sides on the tent, even.

The clansman standing over me gave a small but significant look to the rest of the men in the tent. They responded by pulling their bone or stone daggers from their hips.

I couldn’t do anything but watch. My shoulders rocked and the thinning skin of my wrists tore open under their binds with a pain I still remember to this day. Still, the clansmen stabbed each of the students in the side of the neck and pushed away, slicing windpipe and jugular in one movement.

Only Ilanna was spared.

Something kindled in my memory then. Pieces of the moment came together as one. The word the clansman had used—powerful—triggered the details as I watched my students bleed out in front of me. All of the faces being shoved forward and face-down into the dirt, softened only by their own blood, were female. The murderers had intentionally sought out females back at the school.

I hated the picture the pieces assembled to show.

I looked at the one who had addressed me and seemed more or less in charge. You're trying to force the Modakku, I accused.

It was a prophecy—the last before the witch of the Falcon clan had died. The Modakku was supposed to be born from a powerful couple—one parent tribal and the other clansman—before the death of the one who received the prophecy. This Modakku was supposed to conquer all the other clans, uniting them and ushering in an era of competence and peace.

It had started a power frenzy among all the clans, but that was decades ago, when I was still enslaved by them as a prisoner of war. That infighting had allowed the tribes—and my school—to flourish. It seemed the world had come back to balance, making the school small again by allowing the clansmen to attack it so.

The man I addressed seemed to comprehend me but didn't respond. I decided that meant I was right, as he seemed to be the kind of man that enjoyed pointing out when others were wrong. Not conclusive by any means, but the information was still valuable if it turned out to be true.

Without warning, the man turned where he stood and slammed his fist into the side of my face. I actually felt the pain in my neck first as my head snapped to one side before the hurt and splintering reached my cheek.

Stop it! Ilanna somehow managed to escape her captor's clutches and spring to her feet as she shouted. She spoke again, a new, calm darkness filling her voice. Now.

He couldn’t understand her tribal words.

Don't do anything stupid, Ilanna, I warned her in tribal. She may have been spared so far, but if she did anything to make them dislike her, they could easily decide she didn't suit their idea of the prophecy and continue their search. After killing us both, of course.

They—

Survive. It was all the advice I could give her. She had a chance at a normal life if she got through alive. I was capable of living among the clansmen again, and though I far from desired it, my concern was not for myself.

The man she had addressed decided to leave me and instead turn his focus on her.

To my horror, Ilanna did not back down. She locked eyes with him, staring just as fiercely back. In that moment, the fear that filled my heart also kept my breath captive in my lungs.

It was almost a full minute of intense staring at each other before either moved. When he did, the sound surprised me: he laughed. I worried still, but I let my relief sigh out of me. Take them away, he ordered the other clansmen, sweeping his hand across the row of corpses in the tent.

Not long later, I was alone again.

Those six blood stains—five right next to each other in a row, then one more—haunted me even after the day's light had passed, shadowing the image beyond sight. I kept telling myself that there was nothing I could have done to save them. That at least one was spared. But it wasn’t enough.

A scenario where I could have done something different would pop into my head and I would imagine it to its conclusion, which was inevitably better than the reality of loss. I should have brought my students away from the school instead of attacking the sorceress. Should have known there was a powerful sorceress when they told me the rain was hot, or even existed at all. I should have taken Shaddum and his gang and fought back sooner, and hopefully destroyed the evil woman before she had the chance to do the same to us.

Should have.

I shouldn't have dwelled on the past—on what was already formed in stone. You cannot pull ink off the page, as the saying went.

Still, I wept that day and into that night. I felt the sting of my tears in a cut on my cheekbone where the man had struck me. I tasted their saltiness, not only on my cracking lips, but in the deep back of my throat. I still knew I deserved so much worse than this. The clansmen had burned the bodies—I could smell their scorched hair long after the fires died in the night.

I wanted to sleep, if only to escape my waking nightmare for just a little while, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw my slain students. Not only the ones who’d died in the tent, but the faces of everyone at the school. Heard their voices, remembered their test scores. What they were good at and what plans I had laid to help strengthen what wasn't in their natural skill sets.

I was alert, then, when I heard someone slip into my tent long after the camp had settled. I held my breath in a simple attempt to be quieter and listen.

Are you awake? the newcomer whispered. Ilanna! She had escaped?

What are you doing here? I whispered back. If they discovered her... my breath shuddered at the thought.

Getting you out. I felt her hands reach for mine and start to work at the knot that bound them.

We're at the center of their camp. These ropes are just a precaution, Ilanna. It's the clan that will keep us here. And the dreaded night patrol. Please, go back. I wanted to explain the situation in a way that made sense to her, but this wasn't the classroom.

Then they won't mind me untying you. As she spoke, I felt my fingers warm with fresh-flowing blood as my bonds were loosened. And here I was thinking that the worst part of yesterday would be failing your test.

I wanted to reprimand her playful tone. I felt the ropes around my wrists fall away entirely. As soon as my cramped muscles allowed me to, I spun around to face her, even though the night was as dark as ink. If we try to escape, they will kill us.

I'm willing to take that chance if you are.

There's no chance involved! I knew from experience that they would have guards posted around the camp, all of whom tended to be the least mentally stable of the clansmen. Do you really want to—

I'll tell you what I don't want, she interrupted. I don't want to die. I don't want to be some sex slave. I don't want to be a slave at all. But most of all, I don't want to be caged. I don't want to be forced to bow every time—

But you will. How could I make her understand? You will kneel, Ilanna. Do you hear me? You will be caged, if that is what they want. You will... The thought of the Modakku prophecy frightened me for her. If they were attempting to breed the most powerful warrior the world had ever seen, that meant the next few months—or year even—would be hard on her. You must survive. Please. In a few years, they may let—

I don't want to just survive! Her whisper was as adamant as my own. I refuse to let them make me into anything less than what I am! Her words may have sounded heroic to some, but they were just foolish to me.

Then don't let them make you into a corpse, I pleaded. What can I say to convince you? I half asked the question of myself, but she responded anyway.

Tell me you have a plan.

I didn't. I hadn't thought much about the future. Every thought I’d had about escape was centered solely on its futility. I guessed I would wait out my years as a slave, as I had before, and go back home. So many of my comrades had tried to escape and even the most skilled of tribal warriors had fallen to the clan's keen watch.

My silence must have been answer enough for her. "I thought not. Tell me, what is the Modakku? I heard you say that and he hit you for it." I realized as she spoke that her stubbornness on this had just been hiding her fear. She wasn't as unmoved by the slaughter of her fellow students as she seemed to be, and she truly cared about my wellbeing too. She was just a sweet girl pretending to be strong.

I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth about the prophecy. Not after seeing her fear. It's nothing, I answered. The truth would send her right out there into a hail of the night watch's arrows.

Don't lie to me. Her voice was sharp with reprimand.

I shouldn't have said it.

Probably not. I could see her stand in the entryway to the tent, silhouetted by the starlight. Answer me or I'm leaving here, with or without you. Those are your choices.

Why couldn't she just trust me?

Because she barely knew me. Because staying here meant most certainly rape—at best—and she was tasting what she thought was freedom.

Lying would be a poor way to earn her trust. I had to tell her.

"The word modakku means cleanser, directly translated. There is a prophecy among the clansmen that a powerful man will… come together with a powerful woman sometime soon and give birth to the Modakku, who will purify the clans and unite them. Against the tribes, presumably."

So this Modakku is a bad person.

The Modakku hasn't been born yet.

How do they know?

It was a fair question. It is said, as I understand it, that the blood of the Modakku will be part clansman, part tribal. If the sorceress intends to bring about the Modakku, then she will need to control both sides. Especially, I hated nodding toward her then, the mother.

Which is what they have planned for me. She was calm enough about it.

I sighed. That is my guess. I collected my thoughts and continued, wanting her to be as informed of her fate as possible, just in case I died the next day. Earlier, they asked me which of you was the most powerful. When they did, that's the only conclusion that came to mind. They're trying to force the Modakku.

Then why would you want me to stay? Have I offended you somehow?

No! That was the exact opposite of what I wanted! I want you to stay because I am sure of your fate should you leave. If you stay, you’ll at least live longer.

Her head turned slightly in the dim light, giving me what I assumed to be a skeptical glare. How do I know I can trust you? After you let the rest of them die?

Her words stung, cutting deep into my already frayed emotions. She was right. She had no reason to trust me. Part of me wanted to get angry—maybe I should have chosen to spare a different student—but most of me was simply too exhausted. I don't have an answer for you.

A quiet swallowed the tent. Whatever she did, I realized, was wholly up to her. But I was determined to stay. The night was cool and crisp—would she even survive the forest if she ran? Winter was almost upon us and it was expected to be a particularly brutal season that year.

I didn't think it possible, but her next words surprised me even more. I'm glad I'm not alone here. She knelt again, then sat close by my side.

Shocked, I froze as I watched what she would do.

Ilanna simply scooted herself on the ground until she could set her head in my lap. Thank you. Her voice was quieter than I had ever heard it, but still discernible in the unmoving night.

I didn't know what to say—what to think, even—only that I was glad she had chosen to stay. For the time being, at least. Shifting my weight against the central poles without disturbing her was more difficult than I thought, but somehow her shuddering breaths helped calm mine, and together we fell asleep there.

Chapter Three

For the second time in as many days, I nearly drowned.

This time it had the reverse effect of bringing me to consciousness instead of away from it. Movement came from in front of me at the same time, and I instinctively shoved the ground as I pushed my back into the wood poles behind me. I shook my head and wiped my eyes, trying to decipher my surroundings.

Ilanna had woken as well and was staring past me at the source of the splash.

What is she doing here? The harsh words were spoken by a male and in clansman. I managed to focus my eyes first on the warrior, then on the source of the splash: the sorceress beside him. It was the same pair I had seen in the courtyard on the evening of our capture.

Or, more accurately, what is she still doing here? the sorceress asked. She paced slowly behind the warrior, who stood firm and strong. She stopped after a moment, looking down and straight into my eyes. You convinced her to stay?

Or she convinced him, the warrior pointed out.

Then why would we be in this tent and not in hers, I wonder? I answered him. Somehow being near Ilanna after spending yesterday alone gave me the little courage I needed to retort. I sympathized with her; we couldn't keep being pushed around like this forever.

The sorceress smiled at my deduction. I couldn't quite decide if she was amused at my response or entertained at the warrior being outsmarted by her prisoner. I doubted this meant she wanted to be my friend, however. Why did you? she asked.

I've met clansmen before, I answered, realizing as I said it that the fact should be obvious, as I spoke their language. I know better than to escape in the middle of the night.

Yet your ropes have been undone.

They are uncomfortable. I probably didn't need to say that.

The woman in front of me started pacing again. Tell me, sir, now that I know which girl is the most powerful, why do I need you? She smiled like a mother wolf playing with a cub. Or prey. Convince me to let you live.

She had a point. I looked to Ilanna, whose eyes bounced between the rest of us, laced with horror. She doesn't speak your language. How exactly do you intend to communicate with her? I answered.

She doesn't need her voice for our plan to succeed, the warrior put in, waving his bone dagger close to his hips and baring his teeth. Slowly and calmly, he passed my field of vision, heading toward Ilanna.

Alarmed, I stood, as did she, but he did not seem to approach with violent intentions, at least for the moment. Just vile ones.

The clansman warrior stopped uncomfortably close to Ilanna, spinning his weapon in his palm before landing its point lightly against her skin just above the collar of her dress. From my angle I could detect a slight curve in the blade, arching upward like a cat's back.

Brother. The sorceress let out the single word in a low but dangerous tone.

I was so fixated on Ilanna and what the warrior might do to her that I didn't realize the significance of the word until later.

Relax, I'm just playing, he responded, but continued his examination of my student.

I could see Ilanna’s strength as she stared right back at him. I expected her to look to me for an explanation or at least a translation, but if not for the continuous clenching and unclenching of her fists, I would not have known she was afraid at all.

Then, in one sudden and swift movement, he swept his stone dagger straight downward, slicing her dress cleanly as he went.

I couldn't help my reaction then. I knew it was foolish—anything I could do would be fruitless at best, and more likely counterproductive. But at his gesture, my mind gave up the throne of control to my heart. Unbound, I launched myself on the warrior.

Catching him by the side, he landed hard on his shoulder with all my weight on top of him. Straddling my opponent, I sent a fist into his core, high on the rib cage and almost under the arm.

He rolled onto his back to right himself, hands up in an attempt to deflect my blows. His blade rested in a backward grip, edge to me. If I wasn’t careful, I’d slam a fist into the sharpened stone.

It was a risk I was willing to take. I sent my left arm in a wild outward swing, knocking the dangerous weapon out of his hand, sending it out of reach of both of us. I barely even felt the small cut in consequence.

The warrior seemed to find himself and began to fight back. Both fists landed at the same time, one in the soft spot just below my rib cage and the other straight at my nose.

I twisted as I fell back from the force of his blows.

He seemed to anticipate my collapse, coming to a sitting position and countering my downward fall. Still, I clutched the straps of leather across his chest as I went, taking him with me until I landed.

On my back, I pulled him at me even as I lost my breath in a quick cough with the flat landing. At the last moment, I threw my chin to my chest.

His nose only glanced my forehead before diverting upward, pinching his lips into his teeth instead.

I would have preferred a broken nose, but I was happy for the small win.

His fist responded by hammering down on me—hard. It landed in the same spot as the other clansman's had yesterday, compounding the pain across my face before it had gotten even the remotest of chances to heal properly. His weight kept me down and breathing shallowly, unable to move out of his reach.

But having him so close to me could be an advantage too. My hands unclenched and I shoved my palms forward into the same spot he had pointed his weapon at Ilanna: the base of the throat. The man's neck was too thick with muscle to wrap my hands all the way around it, but I found that soft spot and dug my thumb into it as hard and deep as I could.

Both of his arms dropped down on my elbows in an attempt to break my grip, but I managed to hold on. It was my only hope. Twice, thrice, he pounded on my arms fruitlessly.

An inexplicable cold cramped my hands as if they had been doused in icy water despite the heat of combat between us. The next slam on my arms forced me to release my target.

In an instant he had his arm across my neck and his full weight behind him, pinning my head to the ground.

Are you done yet? came the cool words of the sorceress over us both.

I nodded. She wouldn't allow me to kill him, as much as I wanted to.

Let him up, then.

The fierce and feral glare from the man made it clear he didn't want to obey.

He cannot interpret if he has no voice.

I welcomed the sweet air as he released me. Both of us were breathing heavily. I turned and got my hands under myself, slowly managing to stand again. I was getting too old to keep up with the younger warriors.

Ilanna had found the rope that bound me the night before and tied it around herself, keeping the two sides of her dress tight to her slight waist and convincing the cloth to cover her as modestly as possible.

The woman who had rescued me offered an admittedly elegant smile. That's better. The sorceress was watching me, not Ilanna. Ask her what makes her powerful. I wish to be convinced that she is worthy.

The sorceress's command was firm, but I couldn't help but feel confused at her words. Ilanna had never claimed herself as powerful. I had.

A little annoyance laced the sorceress' next command. Now.

I interpreted obediently.

I come from a powerful family among the tribes, Ilanna responded with reasonable calm. I echoed her words in the clansman's language as she spoke.

That does not make you powerful. All I have seen from you is that you have a smart tongue and are a poor shot with a bow. It was true.

I lead. Ilanna's response held a stifled passion. I command and people follow. I strategize. My mind is my weapon, not my arm.

I felt myself learning a little more about her as I interpreted. She had shown a remarkably stoic nature throughout the past few days. Most of my other students would be a crumbling mess in her shoes.

Ah. The sorceress approached Ilanna, putting a single finger under my student's chin so they looked eye-to-eye. The posture between them looked almost affectionate, as if they were mother and daughter, or perhaps sisters. You are like me, then. But wild. Untrained. Would you like me to teach you my ways, child?

It was an odd offer. Then again, they apparently intended to keep Ilanna around for a while if they wanted her to mother the most powerful warrior in a generation.

I don't know what that means, Ilanna responded. But what I can tell you is what I do know. I know that you need me. I also know that I can make any nights spent with me as miserable—or as pleasurable—as I wish them to be.

There was an odd smile in the sorceress's face then—a mixture of malice and affection like I had never seen. In exchange for what?

I wondered how Ilanna might respond as I translated. The sorceress hadn't accepted her terms, but hadn't declined yet either. What would my student ask for? Freedom was too high a price for the sorceress to accept—everyone in the room could guess that. Food and water would come eventually, as would more comfortable quarters. For her, at least.

I am going to limit the number of visits I get per month to twelve. I will make the thirteenth so miserable that, even if he is able to walk properly again, no one powerful enough to father the Modakku will desire to even come close to me.

The sorceress laughed openly then. What if we said eighteen?

Ilanna considered her options. Fifteen. And it's the same man for a month at a time. Then we might be able to guess who the father is.

It was wrong, helping both parties in this sort of transaction. It felt like they were haggling over cattle and blankets, not Ilanna's body and future.

As soon as I finished relaying Ilanna's terms, the warrior stepped forward and slapped the girl. The crack split the air and for a moment no one moved.

My student turned toward her assaulter, glaring at him. Nine. Her voice held more contempt than I thought possible.

Twelve is acceptable, the sorceress interrupted smoothly. As are your conditions on the father, so long as my brother here is first.

All my heart begged against the sorceress's last demand. The man was quick to become angry and even quicker to become violent. One wrong move by Ilanna on any one of those nights and he would be sure to make her suffer miserably for it. I was so convinced that I almost changed Ilanna's answer when she gave it, but I also knew that breaking faith with either side would not serve anyone in the end.

Agreed.

Good.

When am I to give myself over? Ilanna asked before the sorceress could turn to leave.

There will be a ceremony tonight. Then tomorrow, you are his until the next new moon.

At that, the pair left the tent, pausing only to give a command to both of us merely to stay within but mercifully not separating us again.

The instant the tent flap shut out the rest of the world again, Ilanna crumbled. She was already weeping by the time I reached her. At my touch, she leaned into me, seeking comfort in my presence. I had never fathered any children—I had seen enough of other people's children to never want any of my own—but I imagined this was what it felt like to comfort a daughter with a broken heart. I embraced her and flattened her hair and let her cry.

I couldn't help but feel proud of how she had handled the situation. She had been strong—so strong—when she had to be, yet diplomatic when the situation had called for it. She had reined in what could have easily gotten out of control by setting the rules ahead of time. She had been handed an impossible situation and accepted it with more dignity than I thought possible for someone her age.

Do I need to do anything? she asked after about an hour. She had quieted and stopped moving some time ago and I honestly thought she had fallen asleep. But she pulled away so we could look at each other properly.

For what? I asked, confused.

The ceremony. To prepare. What is it going to be like? Her question seemed so simple, so sincere, that I hated to imagine an answer.

I don't know, I told her honestly. I've never seen a ceremony for this kind of situation before.

What have you seen?

Having spent six years among the clansmen, I had seen my fair share, some kinder than others. Almost every official matter had a ceremony, the most violent being one for an escaped slave that had been recaptured.

One young man had been brought before the entire encampment and stripped bare. The one who was his owner had stood behind the slave as, one by one, the clansmen each struck a blow on the young man. Each clansman brought his or her own weapon, so that the unsightly combination of wounds on the skin was still burned into my memory. This beating went on, starting from the closest family members and friends to the wronged slave owner to the distant relations, until the slave cried out to his master for mercy. The master, of course, didn't have to give it. In the night I witnessed, it went on for hours after the cry until the slave finally succumbed to his wounds and passed out on the outdoor dais. I never saw the man again but there were no more attempts to escape for almost two years.

I decided against telling Ilanna that story, though. Instead, I told her of a kinder ceremony. It was almost sweet, for being clansmen. A child had been born to one of the higher ranked families and was being presented to the clan by the man who claimed to father it. They didn't tend to have long-lasting family units in the clans. Not like the tribes did, at least. So when a father claimed a child, especially within the first month of its birth, it meant he had agreed to raise it and claim responsibility for its actions. It was a ceremony celebrated with feasting, and in the case I explained, it was also a rite of passage for the father, since it was his firstborn. It, like nearly everything the clansmen did, was a passionate ceremony.

Food and water came part-way through the day, which we hungrily shared. I spent much of my time explaining what I could about the clansmen and their culture,