I push myself up in a seated position and massage my leg where Grimry stomped on it. The pain has receded, and I can sense the bone has mended itself. I rise to my feet and poke around at my face. The swelling has gone down.
“Come here. Come here. I can’t see what you’re pointing at.” She squeezes around the lobby desk to get a closer look and aggressively grabs my head, carelessly prodding and tousling it as if it’s a tomato she’s handling in the market to look for defects. I think she may have forgotten it’s still attached to my body. “There’s a bit of blood, but looks fine to me.”
“Uh…yeah…”
“If there’s nothing wrong with you, then why’d you ring the bell? Be on your way, now.”
I don’t respond quick enough for her, and my face must be contorted or something because Madam Platina looks at me with concern and places the back of her hand against my forehead.
“You’re a Healer, lad. And a good one at that. My time is wasted on you. You’re fine. Now be gone.”
“Y-yes, Madam,” I speak up. “Thank you.” I rush out the door to escape the awkwardness.
With a bit of time until my next course, I make way for Astor’s quarters.
Master Sephyre, the man who makes imperfections look flawless and who neglects to keep his appreciation for girls half his age hidden, was generous enough to share his guest suite with Astor. A narcissist with a shallow, generous shell. Thankfully, the suite is an outbuilding detached from his main abode. Ulterior motives would be undeniable if he offered up a suite within his home. Just across the hall… Only a wooden door separating them at night… But this place is separated by a beautiful rose garden. Generous and inviting. All the more suspicious and telling of his character. Why would she accept his offer?
The guest suite is quite luxurious for an outbuilding. I can’t imagine what his actual home is like. This kind of comfort belongs to the ancestral line of The First Four. Sephyre is not a well-known family name, so he must have acquired his wealth recently. Maybe the Taoiseach treats the Academy instructors well.
I rap on the door and crack it open after briefly waiting. I poke my head in and call for her. “Astor?” I don’t know why I expected her to be twiddling about her suite. She is a girl who stays busy. If she’s not experimenting with some new form of healing, she’s out researching new ways to help people. Her heart is irritatingly virtuous. Her desire to help others is never-ending and exhausting. So why do I distrust her?
I rinse the dried blood from my face and arms at the faucet. I’d rather not have the embarrassing questions at my next, and most dreaded, course of the day, Aeronautics. Not only is the entire concept of that class foreign to me, but it’s instructed by the scarred golden boy himself, Master Sephyre. I dread it even more so than having to get face-to-face with the Taoiseach in Social Etiquette. And as much as I would like to be tardy, it’s not tolerated by any of the instructors in the Academy. The Taoiseach sees it as a direct connection to where your priorities lie. And if your priorities don’t lie with your teachings and the Academy first, then you don’t belong.
As I wait for Astor to return, I handle a flask of unfamiliar substance lying about her table. It contains a fine white powder. Flour perhaps. I pick up another with herbs inside it. I pop the cork and a foul aroma attacks me. As if a threatened skunk zipped through the room. I replace the cork and slide the flask away as though it will help remove the odor. And there’s a third filled with a milky liquid substance. Too thick for cow or goat milk. I pop the cork and hesitantly sniff. The smell is intoxicating. This is what Astor has been working with that I continuously smell when she’s around. Honeyed lavender. All my concerns flush away as I inhale the sweet aroma.
A mild clearing of a throat sounds at the doorway. Who else, but the lady I’ve been waiting for.
“Excuse me.”
She stands in the doorway with pursed lips and arms crossed. Beautiful all the same. It’s hard to feel anything but joy when those silver eyes, bordered by soft features and platinum hair, stare at you. If she has any flaws, my eyes don’t pick up on them. Even that gentle frown is beautiful. And her aroma…
“Uh…sorry.” I place the flask back on the table, leaving it uncorked. “I was waiting for you to get back.” But I can’t remember why I was waiting. I wanted to discuss something with her, but I don’t recall what.
“It doesn’t look like you’re just waiting.” She strides over to the table and retrieves the flask with the white powder. “You didn’t consume any of these, did you?”
“No. None of it.”
“Good. Because my experiments are not conclusive yet, and it might have some nasty side effects if you did.” She tucks the flask inside a cupboard.
“What are they?” I hold onto the flask with milky fluid, hoping she won’t store it away as well.
“Remedies I acquired during my travels to the capital.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” But it’s not what I wanted to talk to her about. Must have not been important. And I don’t seem to care whether it was important or not. I feel at such ease like nothing in the world matters.
“I was taken in by a friendly woman after I escaped Ellia. There was an accident.” Her gaze wanders for a moment. “Thankfully, I’ve been trained at the Academy and I was able to petrify my flesh to prevent my death. But I had severe, nearly fatal injuries without a Healer for leagues.”
“So, the tides turned. You were in Jay’s charge the remainder of the journey? That’s ironic.”
“Oh. Yes. Jay, yes. She cared for me while I recovered.” Astor laces her fingers together and fiddles with her thumbs. “Then, we stumbled upon a farm maintained solely by an elderly woman. She was crabby but wise. She convinced me these remedies”—she gestures to the flasks remaining on the table—"would be helpful after I explained to her my desire to offer a solution for the dwindling healing trade. I’m experimenting with them. Some may be a viable remedy to pain.”
“Is this one Everweed?” I raise the only flask she left on the table closer to my face. “I thought you were more of a woman of science, not magic.”
“It’s not magic. Just you wait and see.” Astor pulls it from my grasp, corks the milky fluid, and stores them both away with the other. “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be headed to Aeronautics?”
She has my course schedule memorized. Of course she does. She’s a scholar. She loves this stuff.
“Yeah, probably.” I had forgotten all about my remaining obligations for the day. How could I have forgotten? What is it about this woman that subdues me this way? I suddenly remember what I wanted to talk to her about. “I…uh…I had sort of an awkward situation with Madam Platina today.”
“Madam Platina? Is everything alright?”
“I had an accident.”
“Really?” she asks with genuine concern. “What happened, do you need me to mend something for you?” She steps closer and grabs my face, turning it this way and that searching for scratches and bruises. “My healing practices are getting better, but I would recommend Madam Platina if you have something serious.”
She forces me to do a spin, still searching my body for any kind of injuries. Her hands—poking, prodding, and groping—seem to be lingering more than they ought to be. Or maybe I’m just imagining them lingering.
“Astor. Please.” I turn back around and grab her hands. “I’m not hurt.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why did you go see Madam Platina?”
“I had a run in with a thornwood fence, and there were lacerations covering my body.” Astor puts her hands on me again. Her touch warms me. She lifts my arms to check the undersides and lifts my tunic to check my abdomen. I place a hand over hers. She flinches slightly but accepts my touch. “Astor. They’re not there anymore. They disappeared before I arrived at Madam Platina’s infirmary. It’s not the first time this has happened to me. I mostly try to hide it. And Master Stormwood said I need to keep it a secret. But Madam
Platina seemed to understand and shooed me away, telling me her time is better spent on those that need it. Is healing yourself taboo?”
“Oh,” she says with another attractive frown on her face, her bottom lip pouting. “I thought you might have something viable for one of my experiments.”
“Experiments? I’ll never let you experiment on me. Not with magic. And what do you mean ‘Oh’? Does that mean it’s not taboo? Why would Master Stormwood tell me to keep it secret? He said he knew what I was. I assumed he was referring to my ability to heal myself.”
She smiles. “It’s not taboo, Stone. I don’t know why Master Stormwood said to keep it a secret. Maybe you misunderstood him. In fact, it’s rather common. Often, the people of your race will accidentally do it a few times until they learn to control it. It’s just like any of the other techniques involved with your talent. You simply have to practice with it to perfect it.”
“So, it’s normal.” Then what was Master Stormwood referring to? What does he know about me? Does he think me a Graft too? Like Grimry does?
“It’s something you would’ve learned at a young age had you attended the Academy when you were supposed to. I’m surprised you weren’t aware of it from growing up in a family of Lahyf.”
“As clumsy as I am, I managed to avoid any serious injuries as a child. I suppose none were serious enough to spark the conversation.” I shake my head and lower my gaze to the table. “I’m highly annoyed right now. What is Master Stormwood suspicious of, then?”
“Your talent is above average.”
Astor moves closer to me with a damp rag and wipes at my face. I must have missed some of the dried blood. She smiles, lingering intimately close.
“You should get going,” she says abruptly and steps back. “Master Sephyre will likely give me a lashing if I’m the cause for your tardiness.”
“Doubtful. Master Sephyre is only capable of giving you winks and smiles with bad intentions.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No. It is just…it’s weird to see a man of his age attempting to court a lady of yours. And without full disclosure of his intentions. It’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think he has any such intentions.” Astor crosses her arms, and her brow tightens. “I was simply a favored student who achieved high marks. I managed a good reputation with all my instructors.”
“I find your method of achieving high marks a bit unconventional.” With that comment, I give her a sly grin and head out to my next, and least favored, class.
“Stone!” she calls before the door shuts behind me. “Thank you for trusting in me.” She winks.
The flight chamber is only a short jaunt away from Master Sephyre’s estate. I arrive on time and properly take a seat at the rear of the class, waiting for it to begin.
The flight chamber is a large wood-framed structure resembling a hollow forest. We’re stationed at a single table in the corner with a half dozen rows of chairs arrayed around it, nearly all of which are filled. The remainder of the space is wide open with padded floors. Mounted high on the walls, at least ten levels up, are a score of hollows with perches extending from them. The walls are swathed in large petrified redwood branches—foliage, pinecones and all—growing throughout. The wood-framed portions of the walls have been erected around the trees. That, or the trees simply forced their way into the structure of the building. Above the trees, the walls are capped with contemporary archways open to the outside and holding up the ceiling of the structure, which consists only of glass windows, lighting up the entire space with natural sunlight.
Unlike my Stealth and Combat course, this one is filled with a plethora of students at least four seasons younger than myself. It’s a novice course in which most students enroll their first or second season at the Academy. I should be the veteran with the youth looking up to me, but it is the youngsters who have proven to outdo me time and again since I’ve enrolled.
“Alright, class. Today we are going to take our training to the next level. Most of you…” Master Sephyre pauses and sends a glance of dissatisfaction in my direction, “…have proven you’re ready to turn your studies into reality. For those of you who haven’t, you’ll have to be more courageous than the others. Today, we become Aviators in training. Today, we take flight.”
The class stirs with excitement. I fail to share the enthusiasm as a big knot grows in my stomach. I’m all caught up on the curriculum. Astor has made sure of that. Yet, I’m not prepared for this.
I look up at the perches and the tall archways letting in bountiful rays of light. It’s dizzying.
A piercing screech echoes through the chamber, followed by the sound of wings forcing a whirlwind of air. A massive shadow flashes over Master Sephyre, and the entire class looks up.
“Class, this is Zephyr. The harpy eagle you will be training with today.”
His hand raises high and follows the line of the bird as it soars above us. Master Sephyre has a large grin on his face. The raptor circles the perimeter of the high ceiling, screeching periodically, and spreads its talons wide, coming to a halt on one of the redwood perches above. Master Sephyre allows the students to revel in the excitement of the rare creature and only continues after the class calms down. It’s apparent he’s proud of this beast.
“I think we will start with the newest addition to our class. Elder?”
What? Why me?
“Would you take the honors?”
“Uh…I…” I want to throw up.
“Elder, no need to fear. This is a harpy eagle. Although its talons are the largest of its kind and its eyes the fiercest, this bird is well trained. You need to simply follow the instructions we’ve been learning, and you’ll be successful.”
“But…are you sure you don’t want someone else, someone who has had more time to study, to go first?”
“No. This is a first for everyone in this class. You have just as much experience as they do.”
He gives me one of his fist-wrenching smiles, which he never fails to follow with a wink. Just like his arrogance never fails to make me want to remove those teeth with my fist.
He then raises his arm with two fingers pointed toward the eagle and lowers it in a swooping motion. The eagle, seemingly small from so far away, spans its wings and dives. The underside of the bird is mostly white with splashes of black. And the top of the bird is mostly black with splashes of white. The bird soars around the room one time and lands just behind the last row of chairs, my row. Already on my feet, I stumble backward, overwhelmed by the monstrosity that just landed next to me, and I fall over the row of chairs. The young students all snicker and point at me while the eagle screeches loudly and flaps its wings in distress. The bird’s aggression quiets the laughter of the students, replacing it with fear, which puts a smile on my face. It doesn’t, however, give me the confidence to mount the creature.
The eagle, standing proud, is much taller than any man. With its wings extended, they span nearly four times its height. And its beak could easily snap an arm in two, or worse, my neck. I’ve heard stories and read about them, but I’ve never seen a raptor up close. From a distance, soaring high above the Ceruleans or the Arrow Peaks, but never up close.
Master Sephyre approaches the eagle gracefully and soothes it by first whispering to it methodically and then placing his hand atop its beak. The bird squats, lowers its head, and elongates the wing closest to me, laying the tip of it on the floor like a ramp. I know from the teachings that I’m to step on it, but it doesn’t seem right. Why would a winged beast risk its way of life for the sake of a human? And why would an Aviator want to take that risk just before getting on the beast? It’s the last thing I want to do before taking flight. But all the literature says otherwise. Maybe they’re wings are more powerful than they look.
“Elder, you remember the four basic principles of flight, I trust?” He doesn’t pause for an answer. “Always fly with a harness. It’s your lifeline. Always minimi
ze resistance and maximize your aerodynamics. With your mass added to the raptor’s, this is vital for the bird’s stamina. You don’t want to cut a flight short unexpectedly. Third, don’t pluck a bird’s feathers. It’ll go into a frenzy. And last, stay on.” He claps his hands together. “Alright, let’s get to it. We have several others who need to take flight today as well. Once you get mounted, circle around the building once and come to a landing right back here. Understood?”
“Umm…sir?”
“What is it, Elder? Quickly.”
“Isn’t this dangerous? Are you sure you should have your students climbing atop an unfamiliar eagle?”
“I see what’s happening here. You’re afraid,” he suggests.
“I’m not afraid!” I snap back, probably more assertively than I should toward the Master of Flight. But why would he call me out like that in front of the entire class? “I just know danger when I see it, and this is dangerous.”
“Of course there is danger. There’s danger in the Broken Forest. There’s danger aboard a fishing vessel. Heck, there’s danger in a pillow house.”
The class snickers. Why would he mention all those things? It’s just coincidence, right? They are common places.
“Your fear is only what you make it. You can fear danger, or you can get closer to it, understand it, and conquer it. The choice is yours.”
“Okay… I choose to watch somebody else take flight first.”
“Don’t be a fool. The choice isn’t yours. Get on the raptor. Just remember the four principles of flight, then Zephyr will handle the rest. There is no need to be afraid.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Master Sephyre hands the reigns to me, which aren’t typical reigns you’d use on a tiger or any other land beast. It’s a flat leather harness attachment shaped like a wishbone with two handles. I look to the bird, and its wing remains lowered to the ground, outstretched for climbing aboard.
The four basic principles of flight. What were they again? Damn, he just listed them.
I carefully step onto the bird’s wing, awaiting some kind of rogue upsurge. Nothing. The bird doesn’t so much as twitch its feathers. The wing isn’t the most stable of platforms, so I cautiously put one foot in front of the other until I’m close enough to mount it. Terrified I might stumble, I plop down onto the bird’s back with force, causing it to cry out an ear-piercing screech. It doesn’t throw me off as I anticipate, and hope for.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 42