by K A Riley
“I see,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt that attached to anything or anyone in my life. It was a nice thought, though it frightened me, too. To be so dependent on another creature would mean utter trust and honesty between you. It would mean opening up and exposing one’s inner feelings and vulnerabilities.
“There are also Sparkers,” Niala added. “Skin-changers, Controllers, Diggers…”
“Diggers,” I repeated.
“Mind-controllers. Manipulators. They get inside your head. They know what you’re thinking or what you’re planning before you do.”
That must have been what the Waerg woman on High Street was, the one who wormed her way into my mind.
“Sounds horrifying,” I said, remembering all too well the feeling of knowing my thoughts and actions were no longer under my control.
“They can be horrifying,” Niala agreed. “But if they’re on your side, they can also be extremely helpful. Let’s see, there are Summoners like you, of course,” Niala added. “Oh, and I almost forgot about Zerkers.”
“Zerkers?”
“Warriors. Powerful ones. You saw one in Fairhaven. The boy with the scar.”
“Crow?” I asked, recalling what Callum had called him.
Niala nodded. “He’s a Red—one of the students you’ll see in the red gear, I mean. He’s a bit rough around the edges…” She leaned in close and whispered, “but he’s actually a teddy bear.”
“You mean he transforms into a teddy bear?” I asked, my mouth open, my eyes wide with incredulity.
Niala really laughed that time. “A figurative teddy bear.”
“Oh.”
“Although I’d pay to see Crow morph into a red-shirted and pants-less Winnie the Pooh.”
Her laugh was interrupted by the clanging of a bell somewhere in the distance. It was loud enough to make the Academy’s entire foundations vibrate, and, out of instinct, I reached out and grabbed Niala’s sleeve.
“Don’t worry,” she said, reaching out to take my arm in hers. “We need to get to the Great Hall.”
Jogging along, she guided me down the long, bright corridor until we came to a left turn, which led us down another hallway. This one was lined with paintings, some of them of landscapes that looked a lot like the rolling hills I’d seen when I’d first entered the Otherwhere, others that depicted dragons in flight, fighting packs of massive wolves. Some of the dragons had riders wielding swords, while others fought on their own. Among the wolves were other large animals—bears, buffalo, even moose.
One painting was of a woman in a white dress who was holding a long sword, like the one on the Academy’s banners. She was barefoot and standing at the edge of what looked like a pond.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“That’s the Lady of the Lake,” Niala said. “The original Seeker, they call her.”
“The Lady of the Lake? As in the woman who gave King Arthur his sword?”
“Yep. Her name was Viviane.”
I gasped, recalling that the woman in the park—the Waerg with the light hair—had called me Daughter of Viviane. I finally understood what she meant, though I wasn’t remotely convinced such a woman had ever really existed.
In one painting there was a massive red dragon, seemingly confronting a knight. The red dragon had a circle of spikes jutting out from the top of its head like a crown. I paused for a moment to stare at it. The creature was beautiful. It reminded me of something or someone I’d seen before, though I couldn’t quite think who or what.
“The Crimson King,” Niala said, stopping briefly. “He’s the reason we’re all here. The reason the Academy was founded.”
“Is he riding the dragon?” I asked, squinting at the picture to see if I could make out a man on the creature’s back.
Niala chuckled. “Not quite,” she said. “He is the dragon.”
“Wait—the King was a dragon?”
“He was a shape-shifter.”
I stared at the painting, recalling what Merriwether had said in the library about men who could transform into dragons.
“He was the most powerful magic-user and warrior anyone’s ever known,” Niala added. “He could transform into a dragon, but he also had something in common with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was a Summoner,” Niala said with a wink.
I stared at the painting again, mesmerized by the thought of someone so powerful. Someone who was an ally to the strongest beasts in the world.
I couldn’t help but wonder, for about the millionth time, how I’d ever ended up in a place like this, or if I even deserved to be here.
The Great Hall
The Great Hall was appropriately named.
The cathedral-like room was a majestic, cavernous space with a ceiling high enough to give me a sore neck and a flash of dizziness just looking up at it. Towering stained-glass windows ornamented the walls to either side, depicting battle scenes, images of rolling fields, mountains, lakes, and other pretty scenery.
It was like the high school gym back home—minus the basketball nets, the encased ceiling fans, and the musty reek of grunting boys pawing and bounding all over each other. Of course, there was an air of dignity to this place that Plymouth High had never had.
There must have been two hundred teenagers, all grouped by the color of their uniforms, seated in the dozens of rows of wooden chairs. The students in blue sat in rows toward the front of the Hall, with those in green in the middle, and the ones in red at the back.
“The Zerkers like sitting as far away from the Headmaster as possible,” Niala told me, “so they can get away with their crap.”
“This place looks like a congregation of Skittles,” I said.
Niala gave a little laugh and nodded her agreement. “I remember those from my last visit,” she said.
My eyes skimmed over the students in crimson, noting their slouchy and undisciplined postures. They were a chatty bunch, not to mention aggressive. As I watched, one of the boys in the back row smacked the smaller boy next to him, which started a chain reaction of mayhem involving at least ten students, each of whom was torturing the one next to him or her in some way or another.
Great, I thought. Maybe the Academy is just like high school after all.
I pulled my eyes to the front to see Merriwether walking to the center of a stage at the front of the Hall with a series of faculty members seated in two rows behind him. The faculty, like the students, was dressed in color-coded outfits of red, green, and blue.
The Headmaster was the only one who didn’t seem to fit into any particular group. He’d changed his clothes since our first meeting, and he now wore a long, tailored jacket of dark purple, a white, collared shirt, and pleated black dress pants. He still had on the same pair of combat boots, which gave his outfit the appearance of something randomly mashed together, and I giggled aloud at the idea of him as a banker moonlighting as a construction worker moonlighting as an absent-minded professor.
He really did have the air of a slightly off-kilter wizard. Except for the fact that in my mind, wizards were wizened old men, dignified and aloof. This man, with his patchwork of apparel, seemed like he was either too scattered to focus on fashion or else too serious to care.
Some of the men and women behind him wore pieces of armor along with their colorful tunics—silver steel shoulder pieces and ornately carved chest pieces, which I assumed indicated that they were fighters of some sort or another. Like Merriwether, some of them wore a cross between modern business suits and casual linen outfits, and I couldn’t quite tell if they were getting ready for a board meeting or for war.
Their ages made it difficult to figure out where each ranked in the Academy’s hierarchy. At first glance I spotted a few heads of white hair, but, at least from a distance, some of the faculty barely looked any older than I was. A young woman wearing a jacket, a pair of tailored trousers, and stiletto heels sat at one end of the front row. She reminded me of someone
, though I couldn’t put my finger on who, and I found myself studying her intently for a moment before shifting my attention to the students.
“The Blues are Casters. They’re mostly magic users, Healers, anyone gifted in spell-craft,” Niala told me. “Though some of the Zerkers use spells, too. The Greens are Rangers. Hunters. They go out beyond the Academy on scouting missions to track Waerg activity and anything else that might be a threat to the Academy.”
I eyed Niala’s blue waistcoat for a moment. “So, a Tethered is a magic user?” I said. “You’re a Caster?”
“Rourke’s not the result of a spell,” Niala said with one of her silver laughs. “He’s part of me, just like your hand’s part of you. I’m only considered a magic user because I can heal myself and others.”
My jaw dropped open. “You can?”
“No big deal. I mean, it comes in handy sometimes, but it’s not like I’ve been on a lot of open battle fields to put it to the test.”
“That’s…pretty cool.” Understatement of the year.
As I stared at the other students, I remembered that I was still wearing the clothing I’d put on that morning. All of a sudden, I felt horribly self-conscious in my jeans and hoodie.
“Don’t worry,” Niala said, reading my expression. “Everyone here already knows who you are. And believe me, what you’re wearing is the least of their worries.”
Before I could ask her what she meant, my eyes landed on a tall young man who’d just stepped onto the stage. His eyes were so piercing that even from this distance, I could see how blue they were.
“Callum!” I whispered, fighting back a relieved smile. “He’s here!”
“Surprised?” Niala asked.
“Yeah! I…I mean, I wasn’t sure he’d make it. Merriwether—the Headmaster—said he’d be okay, but…it seems like everyone’s surprising me these days. So, he’s a student here.”
“Callum’s no student,” Niala whispered with a wink. “He’s what’s called an Adjunct. He’s not part of the faculty, but he helps them with the training. He knows everything there is to know about his particular…specialties.”
A lot of what I’d noticed about Callum now made a certain amount of sense: His wisdom. His confidence. The authoritative voice and the way he carried himself. He may have looked seventeen, but he had a mien and a maturity about him that belied his apparent age.
“How long has he been here?” I asked, but Niala never got a chance to respond.
As I shot her a curious glance, Merriwether, who was still standing at the center of the stage, cleared his throat. In a deep, resonant voice, he called out:
“Welcome all, newcomers and established students alike, to the Academy for the Blood-Born!”
Any students who had been chatting or hitting each other suddenly clammed up, locking their hands in front of them.
“We are here today for many reasons, one of which is to extend a formal welcome to the thirteen Seeker Candidates who have recently joined us.”
A polite, if unenthusiastic, smattering of applause rose up from around the room. I looked around, searching out the other Candidates, who had to be there somewhere. But I couldn’t find them in the sea of students.
“It’s been many years since we’ve had to call upon the Seekers,” the Headmaster continued, “and the thirteen of you do us a great service by coming to the Academy. We all know how difficult it was to make the choice to leave your comfortable homes for a place so foreign and full of risk.”
As he spoke, his eyes settled on the students sitting in the very front row of the Great Hall. I pushed myself up onto my toes to see they all wore fitted silver jackets that looked as though they were made of expensive velvet, a badge of some sort sewn onto the left arm.
“Those are the ones you’ll be competing against in the Trials,” Niala whispered, leaning in close. “Rather, they’re the ones you’re already competing against.”
“Why are they separated from the others?” I asked, noting the several empty seats surrounding the twelve of them on either side.
“Because they’re special. Or, more likely, because no one particularly wants to sit with them,” she said with a frown. “Now let’s be quiet for a second. We need to listen or Merriwether will have both our hides.”
“For those of you who haven’t spent much time in the Academy,” Merriwether continued, “this room, of course, is the Great Hall. This is where you will eat and where we will hold Academy meetings such as this one when necessity demands. We train in several locations throughout the Academy, but the primary location is the Eastern Courtyard. You can find maps in your books, or you can always ask for assistance if you require it.”
Merriwether shifted his focus to the Zerkers at the back of the room. “I expect those of you with more experience here to serve as mentors, tutors, and tour guides for the new arrivals.”
A few of the Zerkers exchanged rolled eyes and looks of irritation. A low rumble of complaints began working its way through the Great Hall, but Merriwether raised a hand, immediately silencing any naysayers.
“Don’t mind them,” Niala said, leaning in close. “It’s in their blood to be difficult, and they have practically no control over their tempers. The Zerkers are mostly butt-muffins who hate everyone, even each other.”
“Butt-muffins?”
Niala gave me a playful elbow to the arm. “You know what I mean. Just give them a wide berth, okay?”
“I promise.”
“However distasteful the notion of Seekers may be to some of you,” Merriwether continued, surveying the room with a haughty look of warning, “they’re here for one reason only, and we should all be grateful. The Mistress is getting stronger every day, and the Relics of Power have faded. Only the Orb of Kilarin is still in our possession. The others need to be found if we have any hope of stopping the Mistress before she becomes too powerful to hold back.”
The faculty members on the stage nodded in solemn unison. I looked at Callum, who was watching Merriwether intently, his jaw clenching and tensing in a slow rhythm. I remembered seeing the look on his face when the man in the alley had mentioned the Mistress. His hatred had been palpable. Whatever vendetta he had in mind for this Mistress had clearly returned full force.
“What most of you don’t know,” Merriwether said, his gnarled hands gripping the edge of the lectern, “is that we have reason to believe the Mistress has already acquired the first Relic of Power.”
A communal gasp rose from the Great Hall. The entire concept of a tyrannical queen, of a magical world, of shape-changers, and mind-readers—it was still new to me. But I understood enough to know a gasp like the one I’d just heard was…not good.
An oppressive veil hung over the room, the quiet terror of uncertainty before a hurricane makes landfall.
“For that reason alone,” Merriwether continued, “our timetable has been accelerated. We will need to make our move soon. It is imperative we collect the remaining Relics as quickly as possible, though naturally, we will take all necessary precautions. The Seeker will be selected in the usual manner, and the accompanying team assembled.”
He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing under his thick brows.
“Which means that everyone in this chamber will be under close scrutiny during the coming days. Our common goal is to defeat the Usurper Queen and to unseat her once and for all.”
Shouts of “Hear, hear!” rose up around me. Students clapped approvingly.
Meanwhile, I began trembling like a leaf on a tree that’s had too much espresso.
The only group to remain quiet was at the front of the Great Hall, the row of Seeker Candidates.
Staring, I assessed them one by one to size up my competition, at least as well as I could from behind. Seven girls. Five boys, one of whom was the hulking seven-footer I’d seen in the hallway.
One of the girls had long, wavy hair so bright red it might as well have been dyed with fresh blood. She turned to whisper something to th
e boy next to her. She was pretty, her features elegant, her skin like porcelain, and she held her chin high as though she knew full well she was the best-looking girl in her row.
“As for the Seeker Candidates,” Merriwether continued, turning to face the group of twelve, “You have all come here of your own volition. You are each aware of some of the risks involved. In the coming days, you will learn more, of course. For the Candidate who is chosen, grave danger is in your future. Now, it’s time to formally introduce you to the rest of the Academy.”
As he spoke, a hologram-like projection appeared over his head of one of the Candidate’s faces. I recognized the tall boy with the long limbs, whose face had apparently been captured at some point on camera, which made me wonder with horror if the hallways were full of hidden surveillance equipment.
A series of words flashed to life above his image.
Name: Crane Jenkins
The name suited him. He did have the appearance of a long-legged bird that might take off into the sky at any moment.
Hometown: Ojai, California
The same was displayed for each of the twelve candidates sitting at the front of the room. I tried my best to register all their names and places of origin, but by the time most of them had flashed onto the screen, I realized I hadn’t retained much of anything.
The twelfth Candidate to be displayed was the redheaded girl, whose name was Oleana Grace. Her hometown, apparently, was New York City. She turned to look around the Great Hall when the image of her perfect face appeared and issued a smug smile, clearly confident she’d be the one chosen in the end.
I was perspiring in fear, waiting for the huge image of my head to start hovering above the room. It was my nightmare to have everyone’s attention drawn to me, hundreds of my peers scrutinizing me at once. But to my relief, the projections stopped with Oleana.
“We’ve only seen twelve projections,” Merriwether exclaimed. “But there are, of course, thirteen of you.” With that, he pulled his eyes to me, which drew looks from everyone in the room.