by Emery Skye
He breathed through his nose.
“Anna, that’s a story I’m not ready to tell.”
Too freaking bad.
“You can’t say you’ve been to the Dark World and not tell me anything,” I spewed. Not answering resembled torture.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t,” he said and brought a closed fist to the table, making our plates jump in the air.
I guess not.
On the way back to the Academy, Nathan turned on the radio. Motley Crue. I smiled in spite of myself. He had good taste in music. I sang along, completely off key but loving it.
He turned the music down.
“How do you know who this is?”
I feigned hurt.
“One of the greatest bands ever. Next, you’ll be asking me if I know who Led Zepplin, AC/DC, or The Rolling Stones are.”
“All great. Classic. Assumed you were too young for them, is all,” he chuckled.
“You have to be forty or older to appreciate good music? You’re not that much older than me, and you just said they’re great.” That made me think. “How old are you?” This was uncharted territory, but I'd been Columbus all day.
“Twenty,” he squinted.
Not even four years older. That was a relief.
“How are you already a commanding Legite?”
He bit his lip while he considered his answer.
“I had to grow up quick. It’s made me an effective leader,” a cocky statement, but he made it sound modest.
“Care to share?”
“Not really.”
I groaned.
“Are you going to be staying at the Academy?”
“No. My life is out in the field,” he paused and lifted his eyes as if plucking the right words from his mind. “Anna, I’m not a professor. I’m a legite sent on duties to protect the noviates and the school. They needed someone willing to coach the combat classes, and I’ve never turned down an opportunity to train, but I am not a professor or teacher or Harbinger and never could be one.”
There sure was a lot of conviction in that little speech.
“I know you’re not a professor,” Thank God. “But, you could’ve fooled some of the noviates. Since you took over combat training, a lot of them have gotten better.”
“Even Taylor did a perfect punch combo the other day and didn’t squeal about breaking a nail,” I added.
“You will make great Warriors,” his grin waned.
“Nathan,” I said merely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’ll be chosen for the Legion?” Only the best of the best were chosen to become Legites. I’d screwed up my chances, but I could only hope. At least I had that.
He exhaled noisily. I stared at the black dash looking for a distraction.
“Like I’ve said before, you are an amazing fighter with so much potential. You will make a great Warrior.”
My heart dropped. He didn’t answer the question, or did he? I could be a Warrior and not become a legite. Is that what he meant?
Somehow he got me off the pity party by joking about music and coffee pairings with pickles. All in all, the day had been a success; breakfast sandwiches, hockey, and fried pickles with coffee. It was almost enough to make me forget the last couple of weeks.
We drove for a long time. I must’ve dozed off because I opened my eyes to the sound of static. I worked to overcome my disorientation while Nathan spoke.
“What’s going on?” he asked, sounding like a commander. “That can’t be! Where?” Pause. His tone was sad. “Something isn’t right,” He ended the call.
“Who was that?” I asked drowsily.
“Another noviate is missing.”
“Who?” I sat up and leaned forward. I was interested. My blood ran cold.
“At a different Academy.”
I was ashamed, but I felt a little better. Amalie was safe.
"Which one?"
Nathan banged his fist on the steering wheel.
“This has to stop.”
“It’s not your fault,” I felt compelled to say that.
“You don’t get it. It is my fault,” his knuckles were white.
He was right. I didn't get it. How could missing noviates have anything to do with him? It’s not like he could secure all seven academies single-handedly. He was only one Warrior.
“Nathan,” I said softly, firmly.
He looked at me with beautiful, sad eyes.
“It’s Deror.”
My stomach hurt at the correction. What a stupid thing to say. In a matter of seconds, we’d gone from warm friendliness to cold nothingness.
I was silent until we got back to the Academy. It was well past curfew. The news of the missing noviate weighed on me. More, I couldn’t understand Nathan's — correction, Deror’s — assuming responsibility.
Chapter 13
That Monday, early morning classes were canceled, and Deror canceled practice. I'd coasted through the rest of my classes on autopilot. Academic classes didn’t require too much involvement. I could hear the snickers of my peers. Some seemed scared to look at me. It was obvious that news of my probation, and possibly my time in the dungeon, had become public domain. Days later and I was still the latest craze.
They had no idea about the noviate who’d gone missing. They listened to what the Patron told them. Simple as that. No one thought twice about it.
Another noviate was gone, and no one making plans to do anything about it. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The council did their part to hide it.
I ignored my fellow noviates on the way to the barn. I didn’t want to see the accusations and judgment on their faces. My biggest fear was Taylor. What the hell would she have to say about everything? I’d find out soon enough.
The barn was, as usual, my refuge. I went directly to the tack room and grabbed my saddle. Then, I went to Sox’s stall, going through the motions, getting him ready for class. When we arrived to the indoor arena, everybody was there.
Oh no. I forgot. Losing a week of your life and going through everything I had been could make that happen.
Today, I was supposed to lead the class through straight poles: nothing too big but enough to weed out the ones who thought they could ride. I was supposed to pick my team in a month. Jumping was crucial to the performance score in the competition. I looked down at Sox to see if he was ready. His ears flattened back. He knew I wasn’t ready. He could feel my lack of readiness, but, I knew he would help me the best he could.
Before I knew it, we were flying over the diagonal fences. Then, we took the corner and went around the rail to the right. The triple was next. I started counting, 1-2-1-2-1-2. Rhythm was important in jumping (and fighting). We took the first fence perfectly. The second went smoothly, as well as the third. We were unstoppable. We followed the rail around to the right and were quickly approaching the Triple Bar oxer—rather than having two rails there were three, in graduating height. It was more difficult than most oxers because of the added width of the third rail. I designed that fence. I meant it to be intimidating, but not to me. There were two flower boxes at its base and a water box on the other side. Sox and I had taken it a million times.
Today was different.
I could feel Sox back off his beat, and I kicked him hard, trying to force him. We had to get the speed right, or, well, crash and burn.
I lost my stirrup, my boot slipping out from the metal holding, and I was trying to recollect it when Sox came to an abrupt halt. I flew over Sox's head, and my hand tangled up in the reins. I felt a sizzling heat radiate through my shoulders as a million needles pierced my skin. I heard a crunching noise, and then there was darkness.
“Thank God! Everyone, she’s waking up! Anna, you scared me to death! Your face is all scratched up. This is so not good. We need something to prevent scarring. Hello? Is anyone listening to me?” Amalie’s voice was broken up; I could hear a sigh of relief. She looked distraug
ht. Her hair was shabby, her clothes were worn, and she was wearing pajamas.
“Pajamas,” I hadn’t meant to say it. It just happened. She had never worn them out of her room before. The infirmary made everything else here look dirty. The smell of bleach and the bright whiteness of the room were a little much. When my eyes adjusted, outside the glass door to my room, I saw the nurse, Dr. Azrael, and — to my sheer astonishment —Deror. The nurse was talking, gesturing emphatically. The others were listening just as intently. I strained to hear what was being said and failed. The damn door must be bullet proof.
“What happened?” I asked Amalie.
The short, grey haired nurse hurried through the door and to my side, followed by both Deror and Dr. Azrael. The nurse spoke first.
“You nearly tore your arm off. You have a concussion and several contusions. I assisted Dr. Cloves with the healing rituals necessary. It’s a good thing Legite Deror was there and cut your hand free. The horse panicked and bolted.
I couldn’t believe it. Nathan watched me ride. Why in creation is that what comes to my mind first?
“I'm so happy to see you well, Anna. You gave us quite a scare.” Dr. Azrael was distant. Her shoulders were hunched, and she wouldn't look at me.
Where was she when I was thrown? I hoped she didn’t feel guilty. These things happened all the time in the equestrian world. It was practically expected. A trainer I once worked with, Karen, said you weren’t a good rider until you’d fallen off a hundred times. I easily hit that mark by the time I was ten.
“When will I be able to train again?”
They looked at each other for an awkward moment.
“Are you serious?” The nurse’s voice was full of contempt.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My teeth started working against each other.
“You can train on Tuesday, at the earliest. Today is Saturday.”
I wondered how hard I hit my head. Apparently, pretty damn hard to be out that long.
“I can’t take off any more time,” I said. “I’m representing the team in the equestrian division in the competition.”
The nurse shook her head, but Dr. Azrael stepped up.
“Anna, you’ll be plenty ready when the time comes.”
I didn’t object; I was too tired.
“You'll sleep here tonight. I'll release you in the morning. Everybody else, out. Now.” The nurse became more agitated with each word.
“I won't," Amalie said.
The nurse flushed.
"You will. Now."
"I will not," Amalie responded with adamancy.
The nurse went from pink to red and opened her mouth.
“Amalie, just go. It’ll be okay,” I said quickly. I gave her my most reassuring look.
She nodded hesitantly. She stood and glared at the nurse disdainfully and left.
“Oh, and get something for my sister’s face before she scars!” she shouted. I wanted to hug her and grab a mirror at the same time. Scars…on my face!
“Feel better soon, Anna,” whispered Dr. Azrael. She and the nurse left together. Mr. Deror hadn't moved. We were together and alone.
“How do you feel, Anna?” Peace emanated off him in waves. I had to fight to stay awake.
“I feel fine, thanks. How'd you stop Sox?”
He spoke slowly. My peaceful feeling intensified.
“I was patrolling campus and saw you riding. You were beautiful.”
Oh my gosh. He just said I was beautiful. Pay attention!
“I stopped in my tracks, watching. When you were thrown... ” he flushed a little, “my heart...” He swallowed hard. “I ran as fast as I could. Before I got there, the horse bolted. It took a little work, but we got him under control. Then, I cut the rein. Your hand was bloody. The leather cut your palm and fingers. The nurse said it was a miracle you didn't lose your fingers.”
He was barely able to control himself. His voice was uneven.
“Thank you,” I didn’t know what else to say. “Why can’t I remember it?”
“You hit your head on the fence, and your helmet strap broke. After that, your head hit the ground several times. It knocked you unconscious. You could have been killed.” His voice shook, and his eyes were swollen. That’d be an odd way to take out an angel. Horse riding accident. Lame.
Deror studied his boots.
“Thank you for saving me.” Every word sounded strained to my own ears. I was thankful, but whenever I was with him, I felt like... a girl with a crush. I’d never needed anyone in my life, aside from Amalie, and now, I wanted him.
“You’re welcome, Anna,” his words sounded as tense as I felt. He frantically tried, and failed, to control his breathing. When he said my name, my heart stopped. Our eyes locked with anxious intensity. A buzzing energy swarmed around us.
His deep, dark green eyes with tones of yellow and blue were easy to get lost in.
Then, I felt a sort of jab in my head. It was kind of painful. Yay. A headache. That, and lately my eyes were playing serious tricks on me.
His eyebrows jumped up, I blinked and realized I'd been staring, lost in them, for a long time. Too long. If a person’s eyes fascinate me, I will try to get to know them. Nathan's eyes... they were something else entirely.
Then it ended.
Deror stood up, drained.
“Good night, Anna. Get your rest,” he said. Then, he walked away.
I wanted to scream and cry, but it felt like a block was sitting on my chest. This taboo relationship had become enchantingly cumbersome. Slowly, my eyelids became heavier, and my surroundings became cloudier. Sleep, no, not sleep…the dream…Damn!
I couldn’t scream or even speak. I could barely breathe. I couldn’t run because my feet and legs were too heavy to move. They were more like steel columns than legs. As my vision cleared, the scene from every dream I’d had before fell into place. Sure, it had been awhile since the last one, but I’d had them for as long as I can remember. The claw footed chair, with its high back to me and the rock walls were clearly visible.
A disgusting creature walked into the room. He wasn’t like the one called Shamir. Him, I felt something for. With the new nasty, all I wanted to do was drive a silver sword through its heart—if it even had one. The creature had long, black horns protruding on what I’d guess could be considered a forehead (for freaky mutilated folk) with a slimy substance oozing from the jagged tips. He had a wolf's head, but his muzzle was bigger. His lips were too small to close around the oversized razor sharp teeth. His eyes were inky. His massive muscles were defined from his shoulders to his calves. Seven feet of rock hard muscle. He looked man enough, but I knew better. He was naked except for a loincloth, and it was too small. The tip of its tail - I was thinking rat - moved around its head as if it had a mind of its own. I wasn't scared of it. This thing was an abomination that needed killing.
The voice from the chair came alive.
“My child, you bring me good news?”
Yeah, it was a question, but his tone said, “If he didn’t he should catch the next bus to torture island, do not pass go, and do not collect two hundred dollars.”
When the creature knelt before the chair, only his horns were visible.
“We have found the girl.” Its voice was a deep growl that came from the depth of his belly. Guttural.
“Good. Where is she?” I've been wondering who this girl is and how she attracted such a monstrosity.
“She is at—,” his words were obscured by a loud banging from behind him.
“What? That can’t be! She's Dark? How? But... the wards?” He stood. I lost whatever else he said when a single word reverberated loud enough to shake the whole cave. It was my name.
I opened my eyes to see Amalie standing over me. She wore a beautiful, seductive, cerulean silk dress that stuck to her every curve and made her look much older and more experienced. Amalie rarely needed to dress hot, but this was pushing it. I tried to move but stopped when I felt a deep b
urning in my shoulder.
“Stop moving,” she commanded.
She'd never used that tone with me. I looked at her in a new way. She was worried. Grieving.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Alyosha's gone. He’s been taken,” she wept.
She fell to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and laid her head on my thighs. I let her cry like that for long time. There was nothing to say. Had there been, I would've said it wrong.
“What happened?” I finally asked, feeling inept and stupid.
She looked up at me, comforted, took a deep, shuddery breath, and launched headlong into the story. Some of it was incoherent, and there were frequent pauses for sobs and sniffles. I caught enough to get the gist. She'd gone to the Inferno with friends, which explained the dress. Alyosha was supposed to meet her there and hadn’t. She'd been furious, and rushed back to the dorms to find him.
He was nowhere. She checked the training center, Main Hall, the Citadels.
One thing was unmistakable. Alyosha was gone. When she finished the story, her eyes were blood-shot. She'd never looked so exhausted. Black trails of mascara ran down her face, her cheeks were tear-stained, her hair was in disarray. Her dress looked like she'd worn it for a weekend.
I was lost. I had always been there for her, but now, when she needed me most, I had no idea how to help. After thinking for way too long, I opened my mouth. The word vomiting began.
“Maybe he just needed some time alone. He could be out with friends,” we both knew I was lying. He had no friends. “He could be down by the lake.”
“Admit it, Anna; he’s been taken like the others,” she shuddered repeatedly. I tried to prop myself up again, so I could hug her, but my body wasn’t cooperating. I had always depended on my body, and now it was betraying me.
“Did you contact The Light Council of the Academy?”
I really hoped she hadn’t told the Patron.
“Yes, and do you want to know what they said?” Without waiting for a response she continued, “They said, if you can believe it, ‘we’ll do what we can. You should go to bed, now, dear.’” She mimicked a high-pitched voice I didn't know. She continuously repeated their comment over and over, stunned.