Argis had left Sage feeling rejuvenated, as if he’d slept through all of second moon already. He’d thanked her, but she’d left the chamber in a rush for some reason.
Even now, as he stood in the middle of the cavern with the rest of his fellow students, he felt like he could take on Kiel.
I think I can do this, he thought.
“Well, look who’s back,” Vyce said, approaching from the cavern’s entrance. “Did you have a nice vacation, Son of Kyrties?”
Sage didn’t bother acknowledging him as he took his usual spot behind him in their row. Vyce was the son of a Valier named Padros—the spitting image of his father, apparently. Amethyst skin, golden hair, and an attitude of superiority that outstripped even Kirana’s.
“That’s fine, don’t bother answering,” Vyce said. “Honestly, I don’t know why you bothered showing up today, you’re going to get destroyed in the Trials. If they even let you participate. Personally, I was hoping you’d get through the first three tests, so I could meet you in the ring.”
Sage grinned. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Vyce sighed. “It’s probably not gonna happen.”
“You’re right. You probably won’t make it past the ever-burning fires.”
“What did you say?”
Commander Kiel came into the cavern.
“All right, that’s enough chatter,” Kiel said, his eyes falling on Sage. “Get into primary stance. Now!”
Sage followed Kiel’s lead, shifting into Sulen Tukar. Wrists facing out, left palm down, right palm up; right foot out, left foot back, concentrate and wait.
The combined Sulen of that room had transformed in the time he’d been away. His unit felt like a raging storm. It was like he was standing on a plateau, staring out at Mount Paronis’s peaks. A few of them felt like they had slightly bigger Sulen than his own.
He’d have to fix that later.
“Lightning!” Kiel shouted, and the entire class shifted position and thrust their left palms forward, conjuring bolts of lightning and holding them so that they did not arc from the firing position.
“Good,” Kiel said. “Always remember that there is more to Sulen Tukar than mere destructive power. You must master control of that power.”
Their unit chanted, “Yes, Master Kiel!”
“Fire!” Kiel shouted, and the class shifted their stance again, this time thrusting their right palms forward and channeling balls of fire in their hands, once again controlling them.
Something caught Sage’s attention. Takarus seemed to be wavering, his fire construct flickering as though it was fading from existence.
Commander Kiel noticed too, and approached his son. “But some of you seem unfocused. The Shar has the ability to peer into your mind and force you to see what they want you to see, think what they want you to think. If you are not one hundred percent focused on the task at hand, they will kill you. Is that understood?”
“Father...” Why was Takarus wavering so much? What kind of training was his father putting him through?
“No excuses!”
Takarus nodded, and his Sulen evened out, his flames stabilizing. “Yes, Master Kiel.”
“That’s better,” Kiel said. “Your Sulen is only as good as your focus. The image you hold in your mind is your lifeline!”
Kiel got behind a student named Daos with red hair and skin like ash, observing his sloppy form as the fireball he was controlling dissipated.
“Lightning!” Kiel shouted, startling Daos into firing his lightning bolt into the back of another student ahead of him.
Daos had an embarrassed look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Daos,” Kiel said. “Do you think your fellow Valier will care how sorry you are when you accidentally discharge a lightning bolt into them on the battlefield?”
Daos stared at his feet, sulking. Other than Takarus, it felt like his Sulen was the weakest in the chamber. “No, sir.”
“Of course not,” Kiel said, crossing his arms. “I expect you to do one hundred lightning and fire stance completions after lessons are finished today. Is that understood?”
Daos nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You must never allow your focus to waver,” Kiel said. “Ever.” He approached the front of the chamber again.
The class waited, holding their fireballs at the ready in anticipation of the next repetition.
“Sage,” Kiel said. “Come up to the front of the regiment.”
“Why?” Sage asked.
“Do not question Father!” Kirana shouted.
Vyce started laughing. “Looks like you’re about to get it.”
Sage approached Kiel.
“Stand before your peers,” Kiel said. The stern look on his face was troubling.
Sage did as he was told. “Yes, sir.”
“One of your fellow students tells me that you used pure Sulen when you sparred against Dirkus,” Kiel said, his hands behind his back again. “Tell me, when did you learn to do this?”
Sage hesitated.
“Answer the question,” Kiel said.
“I’ve been training on my own,” Sage said.
“Really?” Kiel said. “Well, why don’t you demonstrate your newfound skill for the rest of us? Since you’ve been holding back.”
“I...”
“What? Are you unwilling to face your fellow students and demonstrate this technique?”
“I can’t control it yet.”
“And yet you were willing to use it on Captain Dirkus.” Kiel’s glare was full of fire. “Why?”
“Because he told me to give him everything I had,” Sage said.
Kiel nodded. “By all means, then. Show us everything you’ve got then.”
Sage met Takarus’s gaze. His friend pretended not to notice.
“Fine,” Sage said, pushing his palms forward and concentrating on bringing a blinding, pulsing white light from his core. Soon, he felt the embrace of his Sulen, snaking down his arms and pooling into his palms. Sweat beaded across his brow and he bared his teeth as the strain on his body grew.
“Good,” Kiel said. “Now open your eyes and hold that Sulen until I tell you to release it.”
He opened his eyes to the angry stares of his peers, each of them still holding their fireballs. The torrent of emotion he picked up from them made him fear that they might release their attacks on him at any moment.
It was a struggle to hold on...to hold the construct...
“You seem to be having trouble,” Kiel said. “Why do you think that is?”
“It’s a new technique,” Sage said. What the hell is the point of this?
“I can feel your anger growing,” Kiel said. “Your anger can give you strength, but it can also erode your focus.”
“Yes...” His limbs were starting to tire. “Sir...”
“Tell me, Son of Kyrties,” Kiel said. “Do you know why I’m making you do this?”
Sage glared at him. “Not a damn clue.”
Kiel’s mouth twitched. “Well, you’ll be forced to hold that position until you do.”
“Or you could just tell me,” Sage said. The construct was wavering...he was slipping. Kiel was torturing him. And for what?
“That would defeat the purpose of this lesson,” Kiel said. “So don’t you dare falter, Son of Kyrties.”
“Stop...”
“Stop?” Kiel chuckled. “Did you seriously tell me to stop? If you have any hope of getting into the Trials, you better show me more respect than that!”
“Yes...” The room felt like it was spinning. He had to get control of his Sulen...but he felt like he was reaching his limit, and if that happened— “Master Kiel!”
“What do you think, my students?” Kiel asked, gesturing to them. “Should I allow him to rest?”
“No!” the rest of the class shouted.
“And why is that?” Kiel’s gaze fell on Daos. “Daos, can you answer that?”
“Because he dared to mov
e beyond the pace of your teachings,” Daos said.
“Very good, Daos,” Kiel said, then turned back to Sage. “Do you get it now? Mastering your Sulen is a dangerous task, boy. You cannot hope to master such an advanced technique before I’m satisfied with your progress on our current forms.”
Great fires flared from deep inside Sage and erupted around his body. Flames licked at the air around him, overpowering the dull blue glow of the Olloketh crystals. He screamed, forcing the ball of Sulen he held in his palms to solidify. His whole body felt like it might break into pieces, but he held on.
He wouldn’t give this smug asshole the satisfaction of seeing him break.
Kiel’s expression darkened. “What are you doing?”
“You did not tell me to stop,” Sage said, looking the Commander right in the eyes, his face like stone.
And I never will, Sage thought.
“Barriers!” Kiel shouted, and each of his peers allowed their fireballs to evaporate as they formed dome barriers around themselves.
What the hell is he doing? Sage thought.
“Well, Son of Kyrties,” Kiel said. “Fire your blast at your peers. Let’s see how powerful it really is.”
“Are you insane?” Sage shouted.
“Are you disobeying my orders?” Kiel said.
Sage struggled. Even as he looked at Vyce and Kirana’s faces, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to fire on them...what if one of them died?
“Do as I say, Son of Kyrties, or I will see to it that you are barred from entering the Trials!”
“Stop calling me that!” Sage shouted, releasing his power, and the ball of Sulen, on his peers.
It collided with their barriers, exploding in a violent plasma that spread through the chamber and scarred the walls, catching Kiel’s precious flags on fire.
Sage collapsed on his hands and knees.
“Good,” Kiel said. “Now see what your arrogance has wrought.”
He wants me to fail, Sage thought. That’s it, isn’t it?
Sage looked up and saw that only a few of his peers’ barriers had broken. Takarus and Daos were lying unconscious on the floor of the chamber.
“Do you see now where your ambition has gotten you?” Kiel said. “You were not ready. And now look what you’ve done.”
“Yes, Master Kiel,” Sage said, his fists at his sides.
“You are all dismissed,” Kiel said.
Sage struggled to his feet and headed for the chamber entrance.
“And, Son of Kyrties,” Kiel said.
“What?” Sage turned back to him.
“Good luck with your punishment,” Kiel said.
As Sage left the chamber, he couldn’t help but notice that Kirana was smiling.
CHAPTER TEN
TANNER
The familiar stink of ale and sweat-stained clothes permeated the den. Tanner’s father was passed out in his chair, his favorite mug still clutched in hand, tipped and leaking onto the floorboards. He’d done the same thing last night and the night before that. Despite being given a job, personal groundskeeper for the mayor of the Eldulor. Flush with crystals, his father’s first thought had been to spend it all on ale.
It was officially eight days past the start of the long night. Last night had been spent drawing the strange blue-haired boy’s symbols in the dirt beneath that weathered statue at the edge of the field outside Eldulor, waiting in vain for him to show up. Tanner had waited there, watching the second moon drift across the starlit sky before the red disk of Hades.
In the last several months, the boy had never failed to show. Tanner wondered if something was wrong, if he was sick.
I’m sure he’s fine, Tanner thought. He must have forgotten or something. He’ll show next time. I know it.
Church bells were ringing, telling the town to wake up.
Tanner should have been tired, should have wanted to crawl in bed and sleep the whole day away...but he only felt sad now. Maybe it was the sight of his father, passed out in the chair again from another night of drinking, or maybe it was the boy’s absence...
He went to the sink, twisted the knob and filled a glass of water. The water made his throat feel refreshed, and a cooling effect spread through his belly.
Maybe I’ll go to the library today and practice my letters? Tanner thought. Then, when the boy comes back next time, he’ll be surprised to see how far I’ve come.
“What the hell are you doing?” His father lumbered into the kitchen. His speech was slurred and his eyes were red, unfocused.
“I needed a drink of water,” Tanner said.
His father raised the blinds. Tanner could see people out in the dark, driving buggies and riding beasts. He could see the first moon’s crescent just over the homes across the street. “First moon. It’s time for you to go to your prayers.”
Tanner nodded as his father closed the blinds. “Yes, father. I’ll go right now.”
“A boy should listen to his father.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Go get dressed and get your ass out the door.”
“Yes, Father.”
Tanner rushed out the door as quickly as his little legs would allow. The streets were lit crimson by Hades to the north, giving the wooden buildings a strange glow. Eldulor was a new settlement, but Mayor Greok had big plans to bring lots of big city devices and technology here. Just this month, they’d gotten running water and iceboxes to chill their meat in. His mother had been really excited about that one, but he liked sticking his face in it and pretending he was playing in the snow up in the mountains where his friend lived.
How lucky Sage must be, getting to play in snow all the time.
The townspeople were all shuffling toward the church building in the center of town. There Mayor Greok would lead them in the morning’s prayers, which was good, because people got sad when it was dark out for so many days in a row.
Tanner fell in line with some of the adults and a few of the other children.
“Well, hi there, Tanner,” a woman in armor said, waving at him. “Where’s your father? We didn’t see him at yesterday’s prayers.”
“He’s getting ready,” Tanner said, hoping it was true. “He’ll be here soon.”
“That’s good. May the light of the Grey Ones shine on him,”
“May the light of the Grey Ones shine on you,” Tanner said.
The lady was one of the guards. He didn’t know her name, but she always took time out of her day to say hello to him, so she couldn’t have been bad. He was far too embarrassed to ask what her name was, though. He wished his dad would hurry up and get ready, missing two prayers in one week would look really bad.
He didn’t want the gods to be angry.
Tanner entered the church.
2
The whole town was in the little building. There weren’t many of them, maybe less than one hundred. Tanner had taken a seat near the back, hoping Mom and Dad wouldn’t be noticed coming in late; but as Mayor Greok took to the stage, only Mother joined him in his seat.
“Where’s Dad?” Tanner asked.
Mother’s tired brown eyes found his. “He’s sick, son. He’ll come tomorrow.”
That satisfied Tanner for the moment, and he focused his attention on Mayor Greok. He was an old man, with a bald head and grey hair on the sides. He wore the sacred symbol of Nel’rion, which granted him the office of mayor under the law of the Grey Ones.
“Well, good morning, my friends and family,” he said, smiling at the congregation. “I trust that things are well in our ever-expanding town. Let us bow our heads and give thanks to great Nel’rion and Atreus for the love they have shown our tiny community.”
Mayor Greok closed his eyes and lifted his thin arms to the torches.
“Oh, Nel’rion,” Mayor Greok prayed, “thank you for your guiding light, that you grant us the will to not think on your sacrifice, to move unquestioningly into your embrace. And let those chosen who come to your side be able to do so
like children, with faith, and without question.
“And Lord Atreus, thank you for granting we wicked creatures the kindness to accept such sacrifices, even as the savages in the North threaten to rob all that belongs to you from us. May you give us the strength to smite them, and we offer up their souls as tribute to you.
“In the Grey Ones we trust. So say we all.”
“So say we all,” Tanner said with the others.
3
After church, Tanner was eager to practice his letters. He found himself in the library, surrounded by the quiet. He’d fanned the papers out all over a large desk that he had taken over, and was carefully practicing those strange symbols. He’d written a few words in the boy’s language, which shared the name of the boy’s people: “Soo-leh-key-el.” He remembered saying the word out loud, and many others that Sage had taught him.
Normally, no one bothered Tanner when he was practicing the foreign letters and words, but today that changed.
“Young man? What is it that you’re saying,” the mayor said. It was as if he’d appeared out of thin air.
Tanner looked at him, blankly, unsure what to say. He was honored by the mayor’s presence. It wasn’t often that a commoner was spoken to by an emissary of the goddess Nel’rion.
Yet...he remembered Sage raising his finger to his lips the first time he’d shown him the symbols. He’d be real mad if Tanner told the mayor anything...
The mayor stepped forward. He had changed out of his church robes and was wearing a black suit and a large expensive-looking coat. Tanner watched, helplessly, as the mayor’s hand snatched up one of the papers, crunching and wrinkling it as he squinted his old eyes at it and adjusted his glasses.
“This.” The mayor’s big grey eyebrows scrunched together, his mouth hanging open. “These are Sulekiel hieroglyphs.”
“Sulekiel?”
“Where did you learn these symbols, boy?” The mayor towered over him, flinging the paper to the side in a rage.
Tanner shook his head, and the words caught in his throat. He was caught. Sage was going to be so mad at him!
Then the mayor’s anger seemed to wash away, and he smiled, sitting down next to him. “Don’t worry, boy, you’re not in trouble. You can tell me.”
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