Fugitive of Death

4

 I awoke the next morning being forcibly dragged out of the tent by my hair.

Bleary-eyed, I struggled to gain my bearings as my body was hauled across wet grass and mud. The camp was quiet and dark, meaning dawn hadn't broken yet—too early for training.

Which meant this was an outright attack.

I thrashed my limbs, trying to tear myself free of whoever grabbed me. "Let me go!"

More hands appeared around my legs, restraining me and lifting me up. Strands of my hair danced around like dandelion pollen as I shrieked. The other cadets only laughed.

My eyes adjusted to the dark and I heard the distinct sound of rushing water.

The river.

"No please!" I screamed. "Put me down!"

The sound grew louder and I knew we were approaching the riverbank. I struggled to yank myself free with no success, my panic growing with every second.

I thought it would be the training that would kill me, or my final test with Death. But no—I was going to drown. Years spent cooped up in a palace had given me absolutely zero swimming skills and now I was going to face the consequences of my father's decisions.

Frigid spray permeated the air as hands let go of my hair and instead, pinned my arms overhead.

"In you go, runt," a male voice said, swinging me once before letting go.

Time slowed as I fell, hitting the surface of the river with such force it may as well have been stone. The air sucked from my lungs and I swallowed water, arms and legs flailing. In the icy depths, I didn't know which way was up, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. At the bottom of the rapids, I thrashed toward Oblivion's embrace.

This was the end.

No, I said. You can't go out like this. You won't.

I felt my feet brush against something solid and I didn't care what it was: I kicked. My body shot upward and my head broke the surface. Pure adrenaline kept me afloat as I gasped for air, mere seconds before I was plunged under again.

Staying alive was miserable work. I kicked my legs with no real control, bobbing in the current in an endless cycle of breathing and drowning. Eventually, my back hit something hard, a rock sticking out of the river. I clung to it, fighting the rushing water until my upper half was on top.

On the riverbank several meters away, a small crowd of half a dozen cadets stood laughing. I recognized the one pointing as Yiani, the one who spook out against the Captain. But he wasn't pointing at me.

I craned my neck to look behind me and saw another figure in the thrashing rapids. Unlike me, he was climbing to his feet on a rock and using the others as stepping stones.

"You're ruining our fun, Zamakarian!" Yiani shouted over the rushing water.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed the cadet's darker skin, short curls, and tall, lithe stature. Apparently, I wasn't the only recruit with a death warrant.

"The moment you step out of that river, we'll kill you both," Yiani continued. "Best just to drown and get it over with!" He turned his menacing dark eyes on me. "See, the runt has the right idea!"

I was slipping, the surface of the rock slimy from centuries of erosion and plant life. Only my head was above the river's surface now.

The other cadet stumbled his way onto another rock. "You need to climb higher!"