Rise of Xavia

by Tara Chau

  Since becoming a Protector, I haven't been drawing at all. Usually, I would paint the day after one of my haunting dreams. It would help to relieve me of the phantom flashes. These days, when I do have them, I tend to just murder a punching bag instead.

  Lighting my tongue hard, I stop a loud squeal from escaping my mouth as I trip. A loud string of curses flows from my mouth, something that Gabe would have laughed at, but Ty would have punched me for if he heard.

  Smoothly picking myself up, I continue to stumble up the hill. My lungs burn, and it takes every ounce of determination to move my feet, once, twice, three times. Eventually, I'm on a roll. It doesn't take as much thought to keep moving - one steady foot in front of the other, bending my knees to make my steps longer and more effective. Looking out and down the mountain, I smile. The sky is perfect, not a cloud in sight; wind shakes the trees, causing them to sway in a melodic fashion. From here, I can just see the tiny dots a little way off from the base of the mountain, marking our camp sight.

  My feet stumble on something, and I return my focus to the ground, watching where I place my feet. Looking ahead of me, I notice how far behind I've fallen. Trying to pick up my pace, I stumble. Instinctually, I grab for the nearest thing as I try to regain my balance, a huge, jagged, out-of-place rock. My weight shifts, so I'm leaning heavily against it. Its extremely sharp edges cut across my skin as I push off.

  Beginning the walk again, I survey my hands. There are only a few cuts, some skin has been scraped off, but that’s it. Even though the cuts aren’t deep, blood still seeps out of the wounds. These will heal within an hour or so, but I will have to make sure no one sees them in case it raises some suspicion.

  Swinging my bag off one shoulder, I twist it to be in front of me. Unzipping it, I draw out two tissues. Hoisting my bag back into place, I ball up the makeshift bandage and hold them firmly in my closed fists.

  Without the use of my hands, the walk becomes a lot more difficult and painful. Tripping more than should have been possible and becoming a permanent residence at the end of the line. Finally, I can see the top, the majority of my class lying lifeless on the flat rock ground. I put as much energy into hiking the last few metres as I can manage, climbing between two huge boulders and over some large intrusive roots.

  Speeding ahead, I take the last step and collapse with my pack still attached to my back, the few people that I had stormed past arriving a few moments later. I can hear the groans rippling through the class and can’t help the pained laugh that escapes. Why does it hurt to breathe?

  The three guides sit somewhere a little way off, chuckling at our weak class. I can’t give a flip about them. When I am sure that I won’t pass out upon sitting up, I rise and draw my bag off my back. Drinking half of my one-litre bottle, I look around. A few other people have started to come back to life, sitting up so that I'm not the only one anymore. I expect to see Anne and the rest of them sitting up and chatting away. The only person from that group even conscious is Helen. The others seem to be either dead or asleep. Helen meets my gaze and smiles softly before looking back to the others. Attempting to cast the horrific images of Death from my mind, a pounding headache emerges.

  Opening my palms, I look at the blood-stained tissues, stuffing them into the side pocket of my bag. Taking in the differences between how they looked half an hour ago, I stare, puzzled. Even Protector’s shouldn’t have healed this quickly. Where the cuts had been are now faint white scars, the pealed skin already grown back. This should have taken an hour at least; it has barely been over thirty minutes. Pressing my fingers to the insides of my hand, they throb slightly, still tender from the healing wounds.

  How has this happened? Maybe it was another thing passed down from Dyla. How many gifts remain?

  Tiffaney calls for attention, everyone moaning as they right themselves reluctantly. There are to be two different activities: rock climbing is still happening, but there is also a ladder wall. We are all to split into two groups, the left side for the ladder and the right for the rock climbing. Curious about what a ladder wall could be, I join Jess and Hayden on the left, along with another twenty students. Georgia approaches and instructs us to follow her back down the path. Come on.

  We wind down the same path we have just hiked up, to my complete and never-ending annoyance. About five minutes pass, and we turn into a small clearing in the bushes, coming out in a small area blocked off by a huge wall of sandstone. The wall swoops down, making it look like an open cave. It’s one huge thing that looks like someone had come years and years before and hollowed out a small shelter inside the rock.

  The entrance is huge, so big that you don’t even have to duck, so big it lets in butt loads of sunlight. We could see the back of the cave, it's small, and five steps in, you go smack bang right into the end.

  Told to sit, we all climb into the cave, all eager to start the climbing, but all are wondering the same thing: where is the ladder? Georgia walks up to where the cave has been cut off, and the huge wall travels all the way to the ground, undisturbed. She pulls on a green card that has been skilfully hidden by the bushes. A thin and unstable-looking ladder falls from the sky; well, it looks like it does.

  The rungs are so short that you can only just fit two hands on. They also seem a little too far apart, to be fair.

  “Right, who wants to go first?” Georgia asks with an amused grin.

  Looking around at the hesitant faces, I know that no one’s going to volunteer first. Slowly, I raise my hand, wincing as my class cheers. Georgia smiles proudly, motioning me forwards. She hands me the harness. She demonstrates how to put it on correctly, then watches as I do it myself, double-checking in case I did a dodgy job. Once that is done, she attaches me to the rope she will use to catch me if I fall off the ladder. Squinting as I look up towards the top of the ladder, I spy a bell hanging.

  “Okay, just wait a second,” she says.

  Georgia checks her own harness and tugs on the rope. I feel myself being lifted off the ground a few inches.

  “Right,” she says, giving an approving nod, “get climbing.”

  Taking a deep breath, I hoist myself up onto the first rung. The rope is slack before Georgia pulls it a few times, making it tight again. Reaching for the next rung, I use my legs to push myself up, climbing the courses at the Sanctuary, making this fairly easy.

  My arms start aching two-thirds of the way up, making me groan with effort. The ladder spins, causing me to bang into the rock wall. Steadily taking one hand off the ladder, I use it to push myself away once more. As I continue to climb, a weirdly strong wind sways the ladder dramatically. I squeal loudly, holding onto the rungs so tight my knuckles bloom white. Refusing to look down, I look out. The view is more dazzling from up here, the mountains and the small sparkling ponds. Looking up at the ten remaining rungs to cover, I climb faster. Even though my arms are shaking, and my knees seem to have turned into jelly, I make it to the top within an unearthly time. Ringing the bell with pride, I laugh as a loud chorus of applause echoes from beneath me.

  “Alright, let go of the ladder and slowly lean back into the harness!” Georgia calls up to me.

  Against every nerve in my body, I lean back, trusting her to deliver me safely to the ground. A shriek falls out of my mouth as I fall a few inches before the rope catches me. Chuckling nervously, a bright smile spreads across my face as I descend, marvelling at the gorgeous sight of the mountains. Once my feet touch the ground, a sense of relief and disappointment crashes upon me. As I unclip the harness and hand it to another boy in my class, it takes everything I have to not allow my jelly limbs to fall apart. Walking over to Jess and Hayden, I fall dramatically onto the ground. I have to make it a point to practice climbing more.

  I haven't been doing it nearly as much as I should be, and that just proves it. Hayden laughs softly and pats me on the back a few times before returning his gaze to his friend on the course.

  “You did that really quickly
,” Jess says in shock.

  “Really? It didn’t feel like it,” I comment.

  “Yeah, like four minutes quick,” she says, tapping her watch.

  "Crap, is that not normal?" I ask, completely forgetting that the Protector genes would have made it easier for me compared to all the other people in our class.

  "It's not as bad as it could have been. We're just lucky your bad at climbing,” Jess says with a smirk.

  Punching her playfully in the shoulder, I look at the person currently climbing and groan. He hasn’t even made it a quarter of the way yet. This is going to be a long wait.

  The archery range is… basic. It’s a simple large green field, seven different targets exactly ten metres away. A white line has been painted across the grass, a very clear warning, making sure no one steps over it. There are two large boxes off to the side, one containing the arrows and the other the bows. When the guides questioned how many people don’t want to participate, eight hands shoot into the air. So, with seven targets and forty-two students, that means six people per target.

  The instructors tell us to pick a line, the six of us take our places in different lines. All six of us happen to be third in line, so it isn’t a surprise when we take up our places in the front not too long after. Counting my arrows, I frown, only four. Looking at the others, we all grin madly, silently announcing a competition. A loud whistle blows, and we all step up to the line, readying our bows.

  Drawing my first arrow, I steady it and aim. Focussing on the spot more to the bottom right corner of the target, I ignore the growing ache in my arm. Taking a deep breath, I adjust my aim again, then release. The arrow goes flying towards the board and smacks bang right on the origin of the X, dead centre. It takes an enormous amount of restraint to keep myself from jumping up into the air and squealing till all eardrums in this class are dead.

  Behind me, the whole line is still staring at the target where my arrow has been shot about two inches into the board. Looking at my friends, I smile. Anne, Jess, and Hayden have landed their arrows within the final middle circle, but not on the bull’s eye exactly. Ty is the only other person who got the exact hit. Turning my head over to look at the other boy, my heart swells with sympathy as I see his lousy shot, three points.

  Drawing my second arrow, I smile at Ty before landing another ten points, the tip of the arrow touching the one I had previously landed.

  All six of us get the bull's eyes this time, each of us scrambling to shoot our next arrow. My next shot doesn’t hit the centre, but it is only half an inch from its desired destination. The others all get bullseyes, to my extreme annoyance. Slowly drawing my last arrow, I aim precisely, willing my arm to stay still. I hear the thwack of the other five arrows connecting with the boards but tune it out, getting my aim just right.

  I shut out the noise, shut out their movements, shut out everything other than my own steady breathing and the target in front of me. Pulling the string back further, so my hand touches the back of my jaw, I can't hold it for much longer than this, so I let go.

  A shocked cry comes from me as I look at the arrow that has gone straight through my first one. I can see the wood has splintered out, and the arrow has lodged itself into it, wobbling dramatically.

  A huge applause erupts from the class, making me laugh and spin around dancing. Remembering the challenge we had set before this, I spin to face my friends.

  “You have officially… been dominated,” I say smartly, handing my bow to the next person and walking towards Tom.

  “That was extremely impressive,” Tom says with a nod.

  “Thanks, I think so too,” I say, grinning. “Hey, do you think at the end of camp, I could have those arrows?” I beg.

  Tom seems to think over this for a few moments before a wide grin spreads across his face.

  "Yes, I'll hand it to your teacher. She will give it back to you once you all arrive back at school."

  “Oh, thank you so much!” I say, letting out a relieved sigh.

  “No problem, now go join your friends,” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards Miss Lenox.

  As I approach my friends who are standing in a small gathering, Hayden gives a low bow.

  “Okay, I was wrong. You are better at archery than us, except maybe Ty,” Hayden admits.

  “Damn right,” I say, pushing my luck and their patience.

  “Don’t get a big head,” Ty warns.

  "Too late for that,” Jess comments.

  Punching her on the shoulder for the second time today, putting just enough force into it for her to wince.

  "Tom's letting me keep the arrows,” I say excitedly.

  “Cool,” Anne says, genuinely happy.

  “I’m gonna wave this thing in front of Gabe’s face for at least an hour once we get back,” I say smugly.

  The others just laugh and sit down in a circle, starting another conversation. I miss Gabe, more than I'm willing to admit. Every day he's gone makes me feel more anxious and reckless. When we get back, he'll be there. He'll be home.

  Half an hour later, we are packed and ready to walk back to camp, which will only take twenty minutes. Since we are walking downhill and we have already covered most of it while coming to the archery, it is a lot easier. The easy trail allows us to stay together and actually talk.

  “So, when we get back, what are we going to do with the sleeping arrangements?” Helen asks worriedly. “Dianna and I can’t really be in the same tent anymore.”

  “Right, I forgot about that,” Ty says while clutching her hand.

  “So, what? We don’t exactly have any other spare tents,” I inform.

  “That’s true,” Ty says, eyebrows furrowing.

  “I know you won’t like this, but it may be our only option… Helen can just stay in our tent, Anne and I will sleep between the two girls as a barrier,” Jess suggests.

  Ty heaves a sigh but nods in agreement. “But send someone over if anything happens, straight away,” he demands.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jess smiles.

  We're back at camp by five-thirty, the cooking crew is called to prepare dinner straight away. Thankfully, that's not me, only Helen and Anne. I'm glad I'm not going to be there for that conversation.

  Meanwhile, the rest of us have free time, so I pull out my sketchbook.

  Dinner is called as I'm halfway through my drawing of the flickering fire in front of me. Sighing at the incomplete sketch, I close it up and walk over to my tent, grabbing my dishes and putting the book back.

  Anne is serving the tomato and mushroom paster, spooning in the spaghetti quickly, making the line move at tremendous speed. When I'm at the front of the line, I give her a wicked smile.

  “Don’t even,” she warns, purposely spilling some of the hot sauce onto my hand.

  “This look suits you,” I comment, eyeing her gloved hands and pulled back hair.

  “Yeah? Well, if you don’t shut up, I may just upgrade your outfit as well. I really do like red on you,” she says wickedly, ladling some red sauce and holding it towards me.

  “Don’t even….” I warn.

  “Keep moving, kid. You’re holding up the line,” she says coldly.

  Flashing her a grin, I walk off to join the others around the fire, taking a bite of the pasta, savouring the rich flavours.

  “I’m exhausted, never ever going to do that again. That is child slavery,” Anne says, dragging herself over to us minutes later, clutching her bowl.

  We all laugh as Helen trots happily over to us. "That was fun. I love cooking,” she says chirpily, making us all burst out in contagious laughter, earning a razor glare from Anne.

  “Gods, you two really are complete opposites,” Ty observes, trying to reign in his laughter, Anne sitting next to me. “But I love you both.” Ty hugs Helen around the shoulders affectionately and gives Anne a charming wink.

  I feel Anne stiffen and nudge her gently. She
turns to face me and gives a sad smile, returning back to her dinner. How can Ty not know? Can he really be that clueless? He's known Anne since they were children; how hasn't he noticed that she feels differently for him? I can bet Gabe's picked it up over the years.

  “Hey, how are you and Liam?” I ask, wondering if she’d actually gotten over him.

  “We went on a few dates, I really liked him, but it just didn’t work,” she says with a casual shrug.

  “Did he hurt you?” Ty butts in.

  Both Anne and I attempt to hide our shocked expressions. Ty's face is full of worry with an undertone of anger. He pulls his arm away from Helen and places them in his lap, curled into fists.

  “If he did… No one hurts my family,” he says, eyes narrowing.

  “Ty, calm down. It was nothing,” Anne says smoothly, averting her eyes from his face.

  “Anne…” he starts.

  Anne grabs hold of my hand, holding it tightly. I squeeze back in reassurance. Even though I'm curious as to what happened and why she won't talk to Ty about it, I know that she really doesn't want to have this conversation.

  “Ty,” I say calmly, “it’s okay. She's fine now.”

  He hones in on our intertwined hands, his sea-blue eyes darkening. "I'll just ask him myself,” he says, standing abruptly.

  Anne stares in horror but doesn’t move. I know what I have to do.

  Quickly handing my bowl over to Anne, I jump up. Ty has already made it a metre away, and I have to run to get in front of him. Turning around in front of him, I hold up a hand, motioning for him to stop.

  “You’re overreacting,” I say.

  "I'm not," he seethes, "Anne is special if he hurt her in any way…." Ty starts to walk again, and I step up to him, so close that I have to look up at him. A thought comes crashing onto me. This is not how he would usually react when he hears of one of Anne's breakups. What's different?