by Unknown
Great, he thought. Just great.
He sighed, then rejoined the crowd, shuffling down the hallway. He'd gone a few dozen feet when he felt someone grab his right hand. Kyle jerked it away, hugging his arms to his belly defensively. Then he realized who was grabbing him. It was the pretty girl from class...Ariana.
“Come with me,” she said, holding out her hand.
Kyle hesitated, then took her hand. She pulled him to her side, walking down the hallway with him.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Cafeteria,” she answered. “It's lunch time.”
The hallway ended in a wide staircase, and Ariana led him down it to the first floor of the building. They turned left, then right, walking down another long hallway toward a pair of open double-doors. This doorway led to a huge room filled with rows of long tables. The room was easily four times as big as the cafeteria in Kyle's school back on Earth. Ariana guided Kyle to the left, joining one of several lines of students. At the front of the line, a few older men and women stood behind a line of tables brimming with food, doling out portions to each student at the front of the line. Although the line that Kyle was in was long, it moved surprisingly quickly, and it wasn't long before he and Ariana were at the front of it. Ariana took two plates, handing one to Kyle. She spooned various bits of food onto her plate, and then his, filling both. She then led him to one of the few remaining empty lunch tables in one corner of the cafeteria. She sat down opposite him, gesturing for him to sit as well.
“Better eat quick,” she counseled. “We only get twenty minutes.”
“Thanks,” Kyle mumbled.
“I'm Ariana,” she greeted, holding out a hand. Kyle shook it.
“I'm Kyle.”
“I know,” she stated. She let go of his hand, staring at him for a long moment. Kyle held her gaze for a few seconds, then felt his cheeks burning, and lowered his gaze to his food. He didn't recognize anything on the plate, although it smelled appetizing enough. He picked up a glob of orange slop with his spoon, and nibbled at it. It tasted like mashed potatoes. His stomach growled at him, and he slurped down another spoonful.
“You're the boy they caught outside,” Ariana stated. “Your friends killed a Death Weaver.”
Kyle nodded, remembering the boy who'd punched him.
“How did he die?” Ariana pressed, leaning forward eagerly. Kyle hesitated, staring at her guardedly. “Tell me everything,” she pleaded.
Kyle paused, then told her how Kalibar had arrived to save him and Darius in the forest, killing the soldiers and the Death Weaver. Ariana listened intently, leaning back in her chair when he'd finished.
“Good,” she declared.
“What?”
“Good,” she repeated, leaning forward again. A few strands of hair fell down fetchingly in front of her face.
“But...”
“I'm a prisoner here too,” she interrupted, her tone hushed. “They kidnapped me like they did to you and your friends.” She paused, then leaned forward a bit more, her big eyes staring into his. “Everyone here hates you.”
“Wait, what?”
“The other students,” Ariana answered. “They hate you.” She gave a conspiratorial smile. “They hate me too. We're outsiders...the only ones who weren't born here.” She gestured for Kyle to eat some more of his food, and Kyle obeyed, spooning up a piece of something that looked like chicken. He sniffed it, then took a bite. It tasted like chicken, too.
“They hate you more,” Ariana continued. “Your friends killed a dozen soldiers and a Death Weaver,” she added. “The boy that hit you, his dad was the Death Weaver.”
“Ah,” Kyle muttered. “Great.” He paused, taking another bite of meat. “So...how long have you been here?”
“A year,” Ariana answered. “I used to live in Mortown. They took me away and brought me to this...place.”
“Who took you?”
“The Dead Man,” Ariana replied, spooning a gob of food into her mouth. She had rather full lips, which Kyle imagined would be enormously pleasant to kiss. He blinked, looking down at his plate, feeling his cheeks turn red-hot. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to think of something to say.
“He kidnapped you?” he asked rather lamely.
“And you,” Ariana replied matter-of-factly.
“I'm sorry,” Kyle mumbled, glancing up at her. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I'm angry,” she retorted. “Sorry didn't get me anywhere.” She leaned forward. “They feed off of sorry here.”
“Huh?”
“They keep you afraid,” she explained. “That's how they get you.” Then she leaned back, regarding Kyle with a critical eye. “They already have you.”
“No they don't,” he retorted.
“Uh huh,” Ariana replied. “You’re even scared of the food.” Kyle glanced down at his plate, realizing she had a point. “Finish up,” she advised. “Lunch is almost over…and unless you do well in Mr. Tenson’s class, that’s all you’ll get today.”
Kyle did as he was instructed, polishing off as much of his lunch as he could. Then Ariana stood up, taking Kyle's plate and stacking it on top of hers.
“Come on,” she urged.
Kyle stood as well, and followed Ariana to a table where students were putting their dirty dishes. She dropped their plates off, then joined the line of students heading for the exit. They went back upstairs, returning to the hallway where Mr. Maywind's class had been. But instead of going into that classroom, Ariana led Kyle two doors down.
“In here,” she said, pulling him in. The classroom beyond was much larger than Mr. Maywind's, and there were no desks, no chairs...no furniture of any kind. At the front of the room stood a short man in a Death Weaver uniform. He looked older than Mr. Maywind, with short, salt-and-pepper hair. His face was lined with fine wrinkles, which deepened as he scowled at the students entering the class. The students lined up against the wall opposite the Death Weaver, and Ariana led Kyle to stand next to her in line. She leaned over, her lips near Kyle's ear.
“That's Mr. Tenson,” she whispered. “He hits. Do exactly what he says. Don't talk back.”
A few more students filed in, until they were all lined up against the wall facing Mr. Tenson. The Death Weaver glared at the last student who'd entered the room. It was Pipkin, the black-haired boy from Mr. Maywind's class. Pipkin stared back at Mr. Tenson, the color draining from his face.
“What are we forgetting?” Mr. Tenson growled, striding up to stand in front of the boy. Before Pipkin could answer, Mr. Tenson swung his hand, slapping him across the face. The loud smack echoed off of the stone walls, and Pipkin spun to the floor, landing on his hands and knees. Mr. Tenson turned away from the boy, turning to face the rest of the class. Pipkin rose shakily to his feet, then walked to the front door, closing it. He resumed his place in line, staring at his own feet.
“Who are you?” Mr. Tenson growled, pointing right at Kyle. Kyle's heart jumped up to his throat.
“Kyle, sir,” he replied, his voice cracking. He blushed, half-expecting Mr. Tenson to walk up to him and hit him like he'd hit Pipkin, but the man just lowered his hand.
“I am Mr. Tenson,” Mr. Tenson said. “You will obey me or you will end up like him,” he added, gesturing at Pipkin, who was still rubbing the side of his face. “This is Introductory Weaving. I am your instructor. Show me the light pattern.”
Kyle's mind blanked, terror seizing his gut. He saw Mr. Tenson's right hand go up.
Show me the light pattern.
Kyle closed his eyes, yanking magic into his mind's eye, then weaving it rapidly. He threw it outward, and saw a light flash briefly from beyond his closed eyelids, winking out almost as soon as it had appeared. He paused, then opened his eyes, seeing Mr. Tenson scowling down at him.
“Attach a magic stream next time,” Mr. Tenson ordered. He walked down the line of students, stopping at Pipkin. “Boy,” he spat, glaring down at Pipk
in, “...show me the light pattern.”
Pipkin closed his eyes, and a few moments later, a small, weak ball of light appeared in front of him. Mr. Tenson sneered, gesturing at the rest of the class.
“Your colleague,” he growled, “...is demonstrating a weakly woven pattern with a pathetic magic stream.” He gestured at Kyle. “Notice how impotent his light is compared to our newest student's.”
Kyle swallowed in a dry throat, glancing at Pipkin, who was staring at the floor. A large, angry-looking welt was rising on his cheek.
“Mr. Maywind,” Mr. Tenson declared, “...taught you how to change the size and intensity of your light.” He strode past Kyle, stopping in front of Ariana. Kyle immediately tensed up. “Make a large, weak light,” Tenson ordered.
Within less than a second, a pale light, easily twice the diameter of Pipkin's, appeared in front of Ariana.
Mr. Tenson nodded sharply. Kyle relaxed, realizing he'd been holding his breath. He threw a smile at Ariana, but she didn't react.
“Boy,” Tenson growled, turning back to Kyle. Kyle stiffened, his smile vanishing instantly. “Make a small, bright light.”
Kyle stared at Tenson, then closed his eyes, trying to remember what Mr. Maywind had said. A small light meant weaving the pattern with a small amount of magic. He wove the light pattern as instructed, using as little magic as he could. Then he attached a magic stream, throwing the pattern outward and pushing as much magic as he could through it. He'd never used so much magic before; it was light trying to lift a heavy weight, but with his mind.
A burst of impossibly bright light seared his eyes, even through his closed eyelids.
“Stop!” he heard Mr. Tenson shout.
Kyle dropped the magic stream, and the light winked out immediately. He opened his eyes, seeing large dark spots in the center of his vision. He glanced to his right, seeing Ariana – and many of the other students – blinking rapidly and rubbing their eyes.
Then he felt the right side of his face explode in pain, felt himself falling to the floor. He landed on his left shoulder, his left temple smacking against the stone floor. He didn't even have time to cry out. He grunted, looking up to see Mr. Tenson looming over him.
“Never,” he growled, “...show off in my classroom again.”
Kyle nodded, rising shakily to his feet.
“Yes sir.”
“Boy,” he said, pointing to a small, blonde-haired boy, “make a big, bright light.” The boy closed his eyes, and quickly produced a softball-sized light that was as bright as a light bulb. Mr. Tenson shot a glare at Kyle, then continued down the line.
Kyle's face throbbed, and he resisted the urge to reach up and touch it. He glanced at Ariana, who stared back at him wordlessly.
Mr. Tenson commanded each student in the class to perform a variation of the light pattern, until each had performed nearly a dozen times. At the end of the class, he reiterated what Mr. Maywind had said – that the more magic put into the pattern, the greater the area of affect, while the more put into the stream, the greater the intensity.
It was a lesson that Kyle doubted he would ever forget.
When the class ended, Mr. Tenson excused his students. Everyone bowed, then formed an orderly line at the door, walking out into the hallway. Once safely out of the classroom, Kyle leaned against the wall, taking a deep, shaky breath in, then letting it out slowly.
Ariana leaned in, her lips brushing up against his ear. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine.
“Don't try so hard,” she whispered. “You don't want to stand out here.”
Chapter 15
The next morning, Kyle woke to the sound of Jayce knocking at his door.
“Coming, he yelled, sliding out of bed groggily. He’d been kept up late again last night being instructed by Jayce, and had hardly gotten any sleep…again. He yawned, hastily changing into his uniform. He tied his sash around his waist, making sure that the green diamond was properly centered. He'd just finished changing when Jayce opened the door.
“Took you long enough,” the boy muttered, eyeing Kyle's uniform critically. Then he turned around, walking down the hallway. Kyle followed close behind, and after a short while found himself standing before the door to Mr. Maywind's class. He frowned, having expected a morning lesson with the Dead Man.
“Go, idiot!” Jayce prompted, shoving Kyle through the doorway. Kyle stumbled into the classroom, then caught himself, glancing at row after row of desks. His fellow students stared back at him.
He lowered himself into his seat, blushing furiously.
“Hey,” he heard a voice whisper. He turned to his left, seeing Ariana smiling at him.
“Hey,” he whispered back.
Mr. Maywind strode through the doorway, closing the door behind him and walking to his desk, sitting down before it.
“Good morning, class,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Mr. Maywind,” the class – including Kyle – replied.
“Today we learn a new pattern,” Mr. Maywind declared. “The water pattern, to be precise.” He walked up to the blackboard at the front of the room, grabbing a piece of white chalk. He scribbled a strange symbol on the board, and turned back to look at the class. Two dozen blank stares looked back at him.
“I'll draw it again,” Mr. Maywind stated, moving to the right of his previous drawing and placing a dot there. “Remember that this is the center of your mind,” he added. Then he drew a line downward. “...and this is you pulling magic backward.” Then he drew an “S,” bringing the chalk upward. “Then you move it right, then left, then right, all the while bringing it forward,” he continued. Then he drew a line straight down. “Then you pull it back. That is the water pattern. Understood?”
“Yes Mr. Maywind,” a few voices replied in unison. The rest of the class looked like Kyle felt...lost.
Mr. Maywind reached into his desk, bringing out something that looked very much like a real human skull. He placed it on his desk with a thunk.
“Let me demonstrate again,” he stated, “...for the slower students in the class.” A tiny bright ball of light appeared an inch above the skull, in the middle. “This is the path the magic should take,” he explained. The light slowly moved to the back of the skull, then traced a slow “S” forward, ending at the front right, just above the right eye socket. Then the light moved slowly backward across the middle of the skull.
Ohhh, Kyle thought. Suddenly the symbol on the blackboard made sense. He glanced at Ariana, who was busy coping the symbol into her notebook. Mr. Maywind demonstrated the technique a few more times, until everyone in the class seemed to get it.
“Now you know how to weave the water pattern,” he stated. “But without knowing how it works, you'll never be able to use it to its full potential. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Maywind.”
“No you don't,” he retorted. “But you will. The water pattern forces a substance within air – it only works with air – to come together to make water. This requires a great deal of heat. Anything nearby will be substantially cooled as a result.”
Kyle stared at the symbol on the blackboard, then closed his eyes for a moment, weaving the pattern in his mind. But instead of sending it outward, he let the magic dissipate.
Got it.
“The more magic you put into the pattern,” Mr. Maywind continued, “....the broader the stream of water you'll create. The more magic you put into the stream, the faster you'll make water. Any questions?”
Ariana raised her hand, and Mr. Maywind nodded at her.
“How much air does the pattern use?” she asked.
“An intelligent student asks intelligent questions,” Mr. Maywind replied, nodding approvingly. “It takes an enormous amount of air to make even a small amount of water.” Ariana raised her hand again.
“But couldn't you suffocate if you make too much water?”
“In theory,” Mr. Maywind agreed. “But only if you were in a sealed room.” He paused, then turned
to face the rest of the class. “I suggest you commit this pattern to memory,” he warned. “Mr. Tenson will have high expectations of you.”
The class groaned, and Mr. Maywind smirked.
“Good luck,” he stated. “Never forget that Xanos is with all of you, watching you through His Chosen. Make Him proud.”
“Yes Mr. Maywind,” the class droned.
“Class dismissed.”
* * *
Kyle sat down opposite Ariana at the lunch table, setting his plate on the table-top. He dug into his meal eagerly, having eaten nothing since waking that morning. It seemed like no one ate breakfast here...only lunch, and dinner if they did well in class. Any disobedience, or a failure to perform to their teachers’ expectations, would mean no dinner. With portions strictly doled out by the cafeteria workers, it was no surprise that not a single student here was overweight.
“You're not scared of the food anymore,” Ariana observed, digging in to her own meal. Kyle smiled.
“Guess not,” he agreed.
“You should practice the water pattern,” she advised. “Before Mr. Tenson's class. But be careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you weave it wrong,” Ariana answered, “...you could get hurt.”
Kyle nodded, taking another bite of his food. He'd already practiced the pattern – in his mind's eye – a few dozen times, while they'd been walking toward the cafeteria. No one had come to beat Kyle up this time, to his relief. He suspected that Ariana's presence had something to do with that. She was clearly the best student in her class...and everyone knew it.
“Hey,” Kyle said, swallowing another mouthful of food.
“Yes?”
“So what's the point of all of...this?” he asked, gesturing around the cafeteria. Ariana raised an eyebrow.
“The cafeteria?”
“No, this whole place,” he clarified. Ariana shrugged.