32 – Springrazors

I have learned to enjoy training with the resistors. That’s what they call themselves. The rhythmic thud of boots on packed earth, the metallic ring of weapons meeting in mid-air – it all helps quiet my mind. Usually. But today, my thoughts scatter like dust motes in the afternoon light, each one carrying the weight of last night’s revelation. A sister. Somewhere in Solomon’s twisted kingdom, a girl with iridescent skin breathes the same air as me, shares the same blood.

Even though I could easily take down almost anyone here, I can’t let the power of my legs go to my head. Besides, right now my greatest enemy isn’t any opponent – it’s my own distracted mind, painting pictures of a face I’ve never seen. Does she have Papa’s gentle eyes? Does her skin shimmer like moonlight on water, the way Papa described her mother’s?

Training happens every day and most resistors take a day or two off, even Commander Bennett. But I decide there is too much to learn. Too much at stake now. It’s not just about revenge anymore – it’s about rescue. It’s about the family I never knew I had.

Today, I am learning how to disarm an opponent without using my legs. It’s always best to be prepared for any scenario, though my mind keeps drifting to scenarios of a different sort – sneaking through Solomon’s stronghold, finding her, seeing recognition dawn in eyes that might mirror my own.

Dasim is using a wooden carved replica of a blunderbuss for the exercise and even though I have him pinned to the ground, he is continuously able to keep me from getting the weapon. Every time I think I’m about to steal it away, he does this strange spin move that blocks me. He is very skilled in this technique and, as he keeps reminding me, even if I manage to tackle an armed protector, all it takes is one second for him to pull the trigger and blow my head off.

The thought makes my chest tighten. How many times has my sister faced down the barrel of a Protector’s weapon? Sixteen years under Solomon’s thumb. The anger that rises feels different now – sharper, more focused.

“Normally,” I say to Dasim with a smug grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, “I wouldn’t tackle my opponent. I would just explode their chest or head with my foot.”

He just smiles and says, “Again.”

“What happened to that girl who I faced yesterday?” he asks. “The one who embarrassed me?”

“I’m just distracted I guess,” I say, the words catching slightly in my throat. “Or maybe you’re getting better.” The truth hovers unspoken – that somewhere between yesterday and today, my world shifted on its axis. Everything I thought I knew about my family, about my mission, has transformed.

He laughs and we reset to try the exercise again. This time, I hold the fake weapon and prepare for his attack. I set my legs and try to focus just on him, knowing I cannot accomplish my mission of killing Solomon – of saving her – if I don’t learn to focus my attention and avoid distractions. But as he charges me, faking left and then sweeping right for a low attack, I see the door to the training facility open and an unexpected face appears.

“Papa?” I say as Dasim wraps his arms around my waist and dumps me onto the dust of the training ground, the faux weapon flies from my hand and lands out of reach, perfectly completing the takedown and disarmament drill.

Dasim helps me up and I dust off.

“Looks like they aren’t taking it easy on you,” Papa says and smiles. He carries a metal, disc-shaped object that’s about twice the size of his hand.

“What have you got there?” Dasim wants to know.

“Oreen and I have been hard at work on something new,” he says.

“Isn’t Oreen that oak tree of a woman who owns the tinker shop?” Dasim asks.

“Yep,” I confirm, “and that oak tree will probably save your life with the weapons and armor she keeps you outfitted in.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Dasim says. “She’s just so…big.”

Papa ignores our conversation and holds the contraption up for us to get a better look. “This is what I like to call a springrazor.”

“What does it do?” Commander Bennett asks.

“It’s a weapon that can kill or at least injure multiple targets within close proximity to one another.”

“How does it work?” Dasim asks, reaching out to touch it.

Papa quickly slaps his hand away and cocks his brow at Dasim. “Did I not just say it can kill multiple people in a group?”

“Well…” Dasim stutters. “Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” Papa interrupts, his face reddening. “Why would you try to touch a deadly weapon when you have no idea how it works?”

Dasim tries to defend himself. “I didn’t think just touching it would cause—”

“Exactly! You didn’t think!” Papa shouts at him. “If the clip had been pulled and you had touched it, you could have killed us all. Now keep your hands to yourself, your mouth shut, and listen.”

I rarely see Papa get angry, but when he does, it can be intimidating. I almost feel sorry for Dasim as he withdraws without another word.

Papa goes on to explain the springrazor is perfectly safe if the clip is in place. Once the clip is pulled, the outer perimeter of the disc becomes pressure sensitive. At that point, it takes just a small amount of pressure for the disc to fly apart, releasing several, long, razor-sharp bands.

“The springrazor can be placed on the ground as a trap or it can be thrown at the enemy,” Papa explains.

“Can we see a demonstration?” Bennett asks.

“Sure,” Papa says. “Everyone, stand back!”

We all back away from Papa as he pulls the clip from the disc and tosses it toward the row of target dummies. Upon impact, the outer casing flies apart, releasing several metal bands that whip about like octopus tentacles grasping at prey. In less than a second, the bands slash through three of the targets, slicing them into pieces.

As Papa demonstrates the springrazor, I watch him with new eyes. How many nights did he lie awake, knowing both his daughters lived under the same sky, but worlds apart? The weapon’s deadly grace reminds me of the stories he told of the Xulgun Queen – my sister’s mother – how she had the ability to move like a whisper in the wind. Perhaps that’s another gift she passed to her daughter, another piece of the puzzle I’m desperate to solve.

Dasim’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen at the spectacle. I assume he is contemplating the destruction he could have caused only moments earlier.

Papa smiles. “Well, that worked even better than I imagined.”

“How many of these can you make?” Bennett asks, clearly pleased with what he has just witnessed.

“I don’t know,” Papa says. “Between Oreen and myself, we could probably make a few a day, but I’ll need more supplies.

“Make a list of what you need, and I can make a trip to Steelwatch tomorrow,” Isaiah says. “I can take Neeka and Braam with me.”

Steelwatch is a well-known outpost. It is a main source for metals, wood and other scraps. I’ve never been there, but Papa has told me about it. When we lived in Coghaven, most of his workshop supplies came from Steelwatch, but rather than making the trip, he would buy them from traders whenever they would visit with their wares. Papa would spend hours rummaging through their carts before making a choice and dropping a few quill in the trader’s hand.

The prospect of visiting Steelwatch fills me with a familiar thrill of adventure, but it’s tempered now by a new urgency. Every skill learned, every connection made, brings me one step closer to her. To the sister who’s lived in shadow while I’ve lived in light. Soon, I promise silently. Soon, we’ll both be free.