As soon as Jeremy opened the skill book, words, images, and ideas slammed into his mind. Overwhelmed, he passed out.

  Inside his mind, Jeremy stood in formation with many others, their fear permeating the dim cavern like a foul odor. His rough gray uniform scratched his skin.

  Jeremy was dimly aware that he was trapped in another boy's memories from over a thousand years ago. He had no control over the memories or the boy's actions and no choice but to experience them to their conclusion.

  Anda/Jeremy stood with ninety-nine other children in a large cavern. Fifty highborn and fifty lowborn, selected to be trainees by The Order of the Sand Monarch.

  It had been many years since The Order had chosen potential initiates. And it was a huge honor. An honor Anda and the other lowborn were completely unworthy of, and that Anda would refuse if he could.

  The leader of The Order, known only as The Strongest, had received a message from their God to select and train fifty potential initiates.

  The ruling religious leaders making up the Klave, immediately selected fifty of the strongest highborn boys for this honor.

  Then an unknown member of The Order suggested there might be strength in the lowborn. The Klave thought this was the dumbest thing they'd ever heard, and the entire city agreed. If the lowborn had strength, they wouldn't be lowborn. And that should have been the end of it.

  But The Strongest received a second message from their God that to refuse any child of Assp, highborn or lowborn, the chance to prove their strength in combat, was sacrilege. As a result, fifty lowborn would be selected and trained alongside fifty highborn. And at their training's end, the highborn and lowborn would fight for the right to become initiates of The Order.

  The Order of the Sand Monarch consisted of twenty-three silver-masked masters and five gold-masked grandmasters, twenty-eight of the most formidable warriors in the city. The Order wore robes to match their masks — except for two: a silver-masked member wore gray robes because she was female. And The Order's leader, The Strongest, stood out like a raging fire. In addition to wearing the gold mask of a grandmaster, his robes were covered with silver, gold, and so many glowing gems that his mere presence could light up the darkest cavern.

  The Strongest stepped forward and spoke to the 100 new trainees. “The Order has selected you to be trainees because there are those who believe you have potential.”

  Who? Anda wondered. Who could believe he had potential?

  When The Strongest looked over at Anda's lowborn group, there were giggles from the other Order members and laughter from the highborn trainees. Despite the masks, it was clear that The Order eyed Anda's group like a predator, a particularly tasty morsel.

  Anda/Jeremy stood straight, eyes forward, a sick sinking feeling running through him. It wasn't a question of whether The Order was playing a joke on him and his fellow lowborn trainees; it was why they would bother? Anda's father was a farmer, and Anda was weak by lowborn standards, a nobody who should have been far beneath The Order's notice.

  He would quit if he could.

  Second day of training.

  On the second morning of his training, having received two beatings the night before, Anda limped home, telling his parents The Order had picked weak kids like him as a joke.

  His parents spoke to him gently.

  “You're young,” his father said. “You don't understand what an honor it is to be chosen by The Order. If you die in training, we will place your death plaque on the highest shelf in the house, and you will bring this family honor. If you leave, you will not be returning to this dwelling, because this will no longer be your home, I will no longer be your father, your mother will no longer be your mother, and we will no longer be your family.”

  As he left, his sister Stitka ran up to him and gave him a small package. It held several small cooked mushrooms and edible moss. She'd given him her lunch. He devoured it, as he'd eaten nothing since the day before.

  So that was it. Stay and die, or leave and die, as life for orphan children was brutal and short. By staying, he'd get an honorable death.

  That was the best a lowborn like Anda could hope for: a short life and an honorable death.

  Anda was the youngest of the lowborn trainees, a boy of eleven. Besides Anda, there was a thief, rescued from a brutal whipping and possible slavery, thirty-eight lowborn boys, and ten girls. Except for one unique exception, the girls of this city did not fight. Why The Order chose them, he couldn't possibly imagine.

  The highborn students thought the situation hilarious. Unlike their lowborn counterparts, they were large, older boys who knew how to fight. And they were quick to express their dissatisfaction with their weaker counterparts with words, fists, and constant harassment, such as spitting on them when their instructors weren't looking, blocking them from entering the meal hall, urinating in their drinking water, and many other unpleasant things.

  On the first night the two groups met, the highborn group savagely beat Anda and the other lowborn. Their instructors broke up the fight and sent Anda's group to be punished for being weak. They were hung by their hands from the ceiling and beaten with sticks.

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  The highborn were also supposed to be punished for fighting, but because they were strong, they didn't have to receive punishment if they didn't want to, and of course, they didn't. This meant they could do what they wanted. And did so.

  The lowborn trainees' lives revolved around training, cleaning, and other menial tasks because they were weak. This was in addition to brutal punishments. Anda was always in pain, and sleep was a rare luxury.

  Being hung from the ceiling by their hands and beaten with sticks was the kindest of their punishments. There was the hotbox, a coffin with hot stones they were forced to lie in until they were sick and dehydrated. The water chamber where they had to bail water fast enough to avoid drowning. A narrow tunnel that fired hard balls at them so fast they were impossible to dodge, and many other equally brutal, unpleasant torments.

  Fiftieth day of training.

  Highborn: 50

  Lowborn: 23

  The Strongest paced up and down in front of the trainees like a cat eyeing frightened mice. “The sand monarch does not fight for money or pretty trinkets! The sand monarch does not fight for honor, glory, or the respect of his sand monarch peers! He cares nothing for such things. No! The sand monarch fights for that which is his! All he has in this universe is a small, pathetic strip of desert sand, and he will fight to the death to protect it!”

  A sand monarch's exoskeleton hung from the roof of the cavern. Over 100 paces long from head to tail, it looked like a cross between a scorpion and a moray eel.

  Supposedly, The Strongest had killed it with nothing but his bare hands and a spear.

  “Fear, courage, love, hate, anger. The sand monarch feels not these things. Nor does he fight because he's angry, frightened, or full of hate. Why does the sand monarch fight?”

  “HE FIGHTS FOR THAT WHICH HE HAS, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT HE IS,” the ranks of novice trainees chanted as one.

  “What is your reason for existing?”

  “TO PROVE OURSELVES WORTHY TO JOIN THE ORDER!”

  “How will you do this?”

  “BY DRIVING WEAKNESS FROM OUR HEARTS, MINDS, AND BODIES!”

  “Good.” The Strongest's gold mask's frowny face turned into a happy face.

  Anda wondered how The Strongest did this. Did he have different masks under his robes? Or was he able to alter one mask at will?

  “The lowborn trainees will drive weakness from their hearts, minds, and bodies by cleaning the latrines. The highborn trainees will join The Order for weapons training.”

  The lowborn left amid highborn laughter. Anda didn't mind latrine cleaning, since it got them away from the highborn and The Strongest. If they were quick, they might even raid the meal hall for something to eat and drink. Being caught meant punishment. But they were always being punished. The lives of the lowborn trainees were a constant struggle for survival.

  During the fifty days they'd been training, every lowborn trainee who could leave without being disowned, killed, or enslaved had done so. And the punishments had killed or crippled seven. The Strongest would snap the necks of crippled trainees who requested it. It was a great honor to be killed by The Strongest, whose strength would send the trainee on to a better future life.

  The lowborn trainees were down from fifty to twenty-three.

  ***

  Sixty-fifth day of training.

  Anda stood on top of the shell of the sand monarch that The Strongest had killed. “What are you doing?” The Strongest somehow appeared behind him. This time, he wore his serious, frowning gold mask. Anda's heart pounded in his chest, but he knew better than to show fear or weakness. In this world, weakness meant death. “Most Revered Strongest! I wished to see how you killed this sand monarch!”

  “How did I do it?”

  “Most Revered Strongest! I believe you inserted your spear between these two plates so it entered the sand monarch's skull.”

  “An excellent guess. Report for punishment.”

  ***

  One year of training.

  Highborn: 50

  Lowborn: 10

  “Trainee, strike that pillar!”

  Anda watched as Egidan, the son of a smith and the strongest of the lowborn trainees, took a stance, doubled his fist, and punched the stone pillar with all his strength. Like the rest of them, he was exhausted from hours of training, punishments, and little sleep. But that didn't prevent him from giving it his best. His fist slammed into the pillar with a quiet boom.

  “Aaagh!” The Strongest collapsed on the cavern floor, hands on his head, making an odd contrast to his smiling gold mask. “That punch was so horrible! It was like a spike through my skull!”

  The highborn trainees broke out laughing.

  “Pnatis! Take them to the lower caverns!” The Strongest got to his feet. “They are not to interact with our strong highborn trainees lest they contaminate them with their weakness! They get no weapons until they master the basics of combat! This might happen in the next century.”

  Some of the highborn trainees fell over from laughing so hard.

  Anda had no idea how The Order determined the strength of its members, aside from combat, nor did he know the strengths of The Order's members, aside from The Strongest, their strongest warrior and head of their order. Though he'd seen no evidence to back this claim, it was common knowledge that Pnatis, the only female member of The Order, was their weakest member, because she was female.

  One year and ten days.

  Pnatis led the trainees to an upper cavern and now stood before them. “Trainees. You are fortunate. It wasn't easy finding such a small monster for you to fight.”

  A many-eyed, many-legged creature, the height of a grown man's chest and twice as long as a man was tall, crawled out of the darkness and hissed at the intruders.

  “I will come back tonight for any survivors.” Pnatis turned and left.

  The trainees looked at each other. “It might be weaker if we turn it over?” Anda suggested.

  “Surround it,” Edigan snapped. “I'll take its front; you hit it from the sides. Try to tip it over. If we're lucky, we can eat it for dinner.”

  The lowborn trainees let out a quiet cheer and charged.

  They ate the monster for dinner. But it tasted horrible.