by G Mottram
Mr Brash ignored Jason’s exhaustion and looked around at the minor damage to his training room.
‘Amazing Jason, absolutely amazing - especially for only two days training. I know only too well the skills of my most senior master,’ he nodded to Schmidt respectfully, ‘but this progress… this is also down to you, to your generation. It is as I suspected - only a triple six could possibly learn this quickly and draw such power so early on.’
Jason nodded, a grin spreading across his own face. Triple six – Louisa had mentioned that before but he still didn’t really understand what it meant. Before he could ask, Brash walked over to him and clapped him on the back so heartily he nearly fell over.
‘You’re going to be our greatest asset, Jason – but we need you strong very quickly and you need to learn not to drain your energy so. You must keep a balance between what you draw in and what you push out.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Jason panted.
Brash smiled. ‘These are dangerous times – at some point the Brethren are bound to discover us here and the residue of your powerful Gift…’ he shivered in the cool, energy drained air, ‘will draw them straight to you. Your father has explained about the signs left by using the Gift, I hope?’
‘A bit, yeah,’ Jason said, ‘the wind… zephyr thing?’
‘Exactly – the air is pulled in towards you when you draw power and with the strength of your Gift those ripples of could run out for miles. Then there is this chill, of course – it takes several minutes or more for the air to warm up again after you have sucked the energy from it.’
‘Dad said that’s why it’s dangerous to learn this stuff.’
‘Indeed,’ Brash nodded, ‘a Catch 22 situation – don’t practise and be defenceless, do practise and risk drawing in the Brethren. Still, we are shielded here to some degree - no zephyr, not even yours, can ripple out through the solid rock of the valley sides.’
‘So we’re safe to practise here?’ Jason asked.
‘Nowhere’s safe, dear boy – they could stumble across us at any time. You need intensive training so you’re ready for them – I want you to be here at the abbey full time.’
Jason dropped his eyes. He could understand the argument but he was beginning to get sick of the pressure to draw him in to Brash’s little empire full time.
‘I’m really keen to learn, Mr Brash, but Dad’s finding all this hard enough – I promised I’d go home for the first few nights so he knows what’s going on.’
Something flashed across Brash’s face, almost a spasm, pulling his usual toothy smile into a snarl. The expression was gone in an instant, happening so fast that Jason wondered if he’d just imagined it. When Brash spoke, his voice was calm, if cool. ‘And if he then decides he doesn’t want you to stay over at all?’
‘He won’t. He’s happy that I’ll be safe surrounded by abbey security while he’s away…’ Jason let his voice trail off. He didn’t want Brash wandering where Dad was going.’
‘I see,’ Brash said, visibly relaxing. He paused for a moment. ‘Your sister could, of course, stay here with us as well… if your father is going to be away for some time?’
Jason swallowed. It was phrased as a question but Jason had no intention of telling Brash where Dad was going or for how long. ‘Oh, I think she’ll be fine, thanks. I don’t think Dad would…’
‘… like Miranda staying here?’ Brash finished for him. ‘Your father doesn’t really trust my intentions at all, does he? He stared at Jason without saying anything for a while longer.
Finally he nodded. ‘As you wish, Jason. Work hard – half term will be a big week for us all,’ he turned and walked to the door which flew open before he reached it. Both Jason and Schmidt made their respects to his back, only straightening up when the door slammed shut again at the twitch of Brash’s finger behind his back.
Schmidt looked at Jason with an unreadable expression. ‘So... we will continue. We have much to do.’
***
The next two days training at the abbey were even more intense. Jason learned very quickly why he’d been drilled on the silver disks and bars for hours on Wednesday – it was because on Thursday he learned to replicate the apparatus from thin air.
Schmidt taught him how to form the small stepping stone disks, the trapeze bars and the thin beams, all supported by air-rods dropping down to merge with the floor below. It was difficult at first, very difficult. Jason kept losing concentration and the half formed shapes under his feet would shimmer and disperse back into air as they drew back energy from around them. By the end of Thursday however, as well as having sparred with Anna, Carl and the Marshals for two hours and air-fought with Schmidt on and off the steel apparatus for half a day, Jason had mastered forming the stepping stones long enough for him to walk up three of them and back down again.
Schmidt had grudgingly admitted that it took most Gifted weeks to gain that level of control.
More of the same followed on Friday but a long run all through the abbey’s magnificent grounds was thrown in to the schedule. Schmidt made Jason form low air-stones to cross the Darkston River which meandered through the length of the abbey’s grounds. Drawing the energy from the water to form the base of the supporting rods was harder than pulling it in from air but Jason managed it after three dunkings.
The last session on Friday was a fight against four adult students. All of them were helmeted, heavily padded and armed with wooden batons. For the first time, Jason was allowed to use his Gift in sparing. It took him two heart pounding minutes and three whacks with the batons before all the men stayed down and Schmidt called a halt.
Then he’d been told to shower, go home and say goodbye to his family for a week.
And that was it. No ‘well done’ or ‘looking forward to you staying with us over the holiday’. Just a range of surprised to envious looks from his beaten opponents and Schmidt impassive dismissal.
Jason felt that tomorrow he’d be walking into a den of lions and asking for a sleepover.
***
The following morning, the first Saturday of half-term, Jason woke up aching and bruised. His alarm showed it was six a.m.
Groaning, he crawled out of bed and headed for the shower. Last night Miranda had been waiting for him with Dad and they’d all eaten a late supper together. Over one of Dad’s dodgy chicken curries, the three of them had eased closer again now the arguing about Jason’s training was over. They’d agreed to get up early for a last breakfast before Jason went to the abbey for a week and Dad drove up to Mawn.
When Jason came downstairs, dumping his small backpack of clothes in the hall, Dad was just finishing a pile of bacon sandwiches. Miranda was slumped over a cup of tea at the table – she wasn’t always at her sparkling best in the morning.
‘Just in time,’ Dad said, dumping the plates and a steaming fresh pot of tea on the table. ‘Tuck in before Brash sends his henchman to kidnap you the moment my back is turned.’
Jason sat down and grabbed a sandwich. ‘Dad – I forgot to tell you… I let it slip to him that you were going away.’
‘Oops,’ Dad said as he shoved a sandwich under Miranda’s bowed head. He was obviously in his “keep everyone cheerful” mode. ‘Oh well – I’ll just have to do some fabulous driving to lose anyone he sends to spy on me. I’ll set off later in the day and disguise it as a trip to Morrisons.’
Jason nodded. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It happens when you have no brain,’ Miranda mumbled, as she sniffed at her bacon.
‘Morning Sis,’ Jason said and messed up her hair. ‘Looking good today.’
‘Now before you two start cuddling because you’re going to miss each other so much,’ Dad cut in, ‘I want to make sure you’ve got things straight in your heads.’
Jason grunted. ‘We went over this last night.’
‘Go on then – tell me what you’ve managed to remember,’ Dad said.
Jason raised his eyes – his father was such a teache
r. ‘You’re not using the motorways, stopping over somewhere this evening and should be in Mawn by late tomorrow night where you’ll argue with Grandfather then be back down here by Tuesday afternoon.’
Miranda took over. ‘You’ll phone me at Ilena’s at eight o’clock, morning and night, from a payphone.’
‘And Marakoff will be coming into the abbey sometime over the weekend under his cover story of…’
‘…relocating here to retire.’ Jason finished.
‘Excellent,’ Dad said, smiling, ‘you two do occasionally listen to your wise old...’
The crunch of a car skidding on gravel cut Dad short and a horn blared.
Dad sipped at his tea. ‘One day I’ll make that boy rake the drive back into shape himself.’
Jason glanced at his watch – Lance was ten minutes early.
Suddenly Miranda threw her arms around his neck in a death grip and cuddled him. Wisps of her less-than-perfect bed-hair tickled his nose but he put up with it.
‘Be careful and don’t get too beaten up every day.’ She mumbled into his neck.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Jason said, gave her a quick squeeze and tried to stand. After a moment she let him go.
Before he could manoeuvre away from the table, Dad snaked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a bear-hug.
‘Dad!’ Jason complained but gave him a quick arm-around before weaselling away.
The horn blared again.
Dad walked him out to the hall. ‘Try to phone Miranda from the abbey – the call will almost certainly be recorded so be careful what you say. Marakoff will contact you once he’s in the abbey – but remember to act like you don’t know him.’
‘Yes, Dad, I’m not stupid,’ Jason said, picking up his backpack.
‘Duh!’ Miranda said, making a stupid face.
‘Still looking good, Sis,’ Jason grinned.
‘Be careful, Son,’ Dad said and the pretence of light hearted banter faded.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Jason said. His face must have shown how uncertain he was feeling and Dad grabbed him in for another hug. It was useless to fight it – his father was very strong.
‘You’ll both be safe as houses, Son – I wouldn’t leave you otherwise. You just stay in the abbey grounds.’
Jason nodded into Dad’s shoulder and a moment later was released.
Lance sounded his horn for a third time and Jason grabbed his backpack in the hallway.
This was it – he would be sleeping apart from his family for the first time, would come back to them with the devil-knows-what abilities and might have decided to join the demon hunting Watch by the end of it all.
The next seven days could change his whole life.
Stopping himself from chewing his bottom lip, he opened the door.
Chapter 19
‘You’re going to have a hell of a time, Jase.’
Jason sat in the superb Aston Martin Vanquish with Lance Van Garde. He stared at the long, low block of arched doors which stabled the rest of Alan Brash’s collection of fabulous cars and nodded.
Lance slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t sweat it – we’ll be nice to you… for a while. Now – orders are for you to get changed in your room then follow the river to the refectory back door, okay - your training buddies will be just finishing up with their morning run and you’re supposed to go in to breakfast with them.’
‘Right,’ Jason said. ‘Thanks for the lift – last one for a while.’
‘About time,’ Lance said.
Jason nodded and got out. He jogged into the silent guesthouse, typed in his code and pressed his thumb to the pad. Inside, the place was deserted. He hurried up to his room and found three new training kits hanging in his wardrobe.
He quickly changed and left the silent building. Glad to be outside again, Jason walked between the guesthouse and the end of the garage building down to the river. A group of Jakra students were spread out on the grass – some stretching, some flat on their backs.
He spotted Anna Smith straight away, then the Marshal brothers and Carl. It felt strange – were these to be his friends now – replacing Louisa and Mouse… at least for the next week? He took in a slow breath and started forward.
Carl, stretching in a full splits, saw him first and his lip sneered up to one side.
‘Nice of you to turn up, hot shot. Too good for the morning run, are you?’ he shouted over the burble of the river. The rest of the students all fell silent and turned to look at him.
Carl straightened up. He wasn’t finished yet. ‘Suppose you think you’re the big hero now Schmidt has taught you some magic tricks?’
‘I sort of thought that we’re all meant to be on the same side,’ Jason said, his voice calm as he joined the students, ‘…that the Gifted, big heroes or not, were part of a team all trying to keep each other alive.’
Carl took a step closer to Jason. ‘The trouble is that it’s two way – us lowly shields have to depend on you magic boys as well. I don’t want to trust my life to some jumped up kid who thinks he knows it all.’
‘As if I think I know it all…’ Jason began but Carl was already turning away and sinking into another stretch.
‘Carl, darling smiling one…’ Anna sat up from being flat out on the river bank. She smiled broadly at Jason, her slightly crooked teeth glinting in the morning sun and then turned back to Carl. ‘… a little grumpy after our trot around the grounds, are we?’
Carl totally ignored her and made for a small wooden door into the abbey.
‘I’m not sure you’re helping, Anna.’ Marshal Martin, the older of the two brothers, said as he rolled out of his stretch and began to follow Carl. ‘Wait until he’s had something to eat.’
Anna blew Marshal a kiss and moved over to Jason. ‘You’re not a grouch in the mornings as well, are you?’
‘No – I’m all sweetness and light.’
‘Good. How are you feeling about moving in for a while?’
‘Really welcome.’ Jason said, watching Carl disappear through the small door.
‘Oh don’t mind Carl, he’s like that with everyone. Now, that is the refectory,’ she said, ‘– where you eat with us low-lives if you’re not being served exclusive little lunches in your private magic training rooms.’ She lowered her voice a little as the rest of the students started drifting away into the refectory. ‘A word of warning – don’t go telling people like Lance how well you’re doing. It gets around and makes people like Carl… even less happy.’
‘Okay,’ Jason said.
‘Come on, let’s eat before security scoff it all.’
The refectory was a huge eating hall. Three trestle tables, each able to seat perhaps forty people, stretched the length of a sunken floor and an impressive set of steps led back up to a grand double door at the far end of the room. The sun streamed down in dusty rays through arched windows high on the east wall to shine on a fourth table draped in white linen and laden with all the ingredients for a full English breakfast – bacon, eggs, mushrooms, sausages, tomatoes, black pudding, fried bread, toast, jams, juices and pots of tea and coffee. The room hummed with the soft talk of perhaps sixty people – mainly Jakra students, but with some dark blue uniformed security guards scattered amongst them in groups of three or four. The guards all had some sort of machine gun leaning against their benches.
‘Real food,’ Anna said and skipped down the few steps to the sunken floor and over to snatch up a wooden tray. Jason, his stomach rumbling despite Dad’s bacon sandwiches earlier, followed her.
The two of them joined Carl and the Martin brothers after loading their trays with breakfast. No one chatted very much as they all seemed intent on wolfing down their food. A large, roman-numeral clock ate away the minutes.
‘Time to get hurt,’ Anna announced at 8:25 precisely. The five of them dumped their dishes in bowls of water in one corner and left through the small door with a stream of other students. They turned left and followed the r
iver until they reached the door into the long, white marble infirmary corridor which led to the training hall.
‘You know,’ Anna said, as the sound of chatter echoed around the brilliant, sun-glared walls, ‘this bit used to be the monk’s infirmary - the hospital. Not very encouraging is it – training in a hospital? Sort of gives you a bad feeling about where you’re going to end up.’
Master Schmidt was waiting for them in the centre of the mat. He quickly distributed groups of students with other masters into the mock buildings and smaller rooms where Jason had been learning his Gift. Finally there were just about a dozen of them left.
Jason waited, glancing at the other students kneeling around the mat. None of them looked back at him. Their eyes were all fixed on Schmidt. Remembering Cadaveril’s harsh lessons, Jason quickly returned his full attention to the master.
‘Jason in the centre. The rest of you – full body armour and one weapon of your choice. Go.’
Jason stepped on to the thin mat and walked to the centre to stand next to Schmidt. The other students trotted to different places on the walls and chose from various wooden swords, staffs, shuriken packs and knives. Then they quickly grabbed thin flack jackets, shin pads and helmets from racks and returned to the mat edge where they began to suit up.
Jason began to have a bad feeling about this.
Schmidt glanced around at the array of weapons chosen as the students strapped on their armour and helmets. He spoke to Jason, in the quiet teaching tones of their sessions the previous week.
‘To survive this you must negate each opponent in one or two blows only – there will be no time to play at fancy sparring.’
Jason looked at the dozen young adults adjusting their body armour straps and testing the weight of their weapons. He was going to be a slaughtered.
Schmidt continued his instruction. ‘In the field, your life will depend on fast, accurate and devastating attacks. Your shields will do their best to protect your back and sides but it will be up to you to push forward and destroy the target’
‘Wouldn’t I be facing guns in the real world, Master, rather than swords and things?’ Jason asked.