Fire Eyes Awakened: The Senturians of Terraunum Series (Book 1)

by R. J. Batla

  I felt eyes on the back of my head, and when I turned, there was the executioner in his long black duster, twirling some sort of badge. He caught my eye, gave a wink and showed the badge to me. “Full Access” was printed in bold letters across the back. Great. So he’d be everywhere I was. Oh, how fun.

  “Let’s go. I’m beat,” Gilmer said.

  Dismissing the ill feelings, and our bellies full, we trudged up the stairs to our room, to our beds, and passed out.

  Chapter 12

  “So they didn’t kill the Morsenube user at the Awakening,” the hooded figure said, taking a sip of the red wine. Deep in the bowels of Harlingon, it was unlikely anyone would find the man and the executioner – which was how he wanted it. “And you didn’t kill him today after he’d used the power.”

  The executioner shrugged. “I was at a disadvantage. The commander was technically right, there were a lot of witnesses around, and it wasn’t the right time to kill him.”

  The figure drank deep again, never showing his face, most of his chair draped in shadows. The executioner wasn’t sure what to think of this, and didn’t trust his new benefactor who stayed in the dark and revealed nothing. Putting down the wine and putting his hands in front of his face, the man said, “It doesn’t matter, at least in the short term. We’ve got Malstrak coming from the West, and then this…monstrosity shows up on the East side. Someone has to take a stand. We can’t let this turn into another war like we had before. Order must be kept, sacrifices made.”

  “Agreed, my lord,” the executioner said. “But with your power, couldn’t you just kill him outright, whenever you want?”

  The man growled. “Yes, but that’s not the best course of action. How would I do it? I’m one of the most recognizable people in Harlingon, remember? Plus if I were seen at all, if there were any leaks, I would lose my position. And then I wouldn’t be able to help anyone.” He shook his head. “No. It’s better for me the further away from his death I am. Better if you do it. And there are other ways to kill a Senturian than direct action.” With a wave of his hand, he opened a hole in the earth in front of him. “Traps, for one.”

  The executioner nodded, pouring himself a glass of wine. “I know he’s dangerous, but I sense you’ve got it out for this guy for other reasons.” He let the question hang. Technically he reported to the Council, but when the general gave you orders…

  “Some people don’t deserve to have their powers Awoken. They do bad things. And I intend to rectify that,” the man said. “If you cannot do what is needed, I fear I’ll have to take things into my own hands. There are plans in place. I will succeed. The Morsenube Senturian will die.”

  Chapter 13

  The next day started the same: get ready, breakfast – Executioner present and accounted for, this time eating; – at least he was human, and get downstairs to start training. The first thing we did was lift weights. I had to lift considerably more, given my power. Then we ran, did agility drills, and anything else Royn could think of to tire us out physically. Then we worked on martial arts techniques, hand fighting. Then weapons. Then lunch. Then the whole thing over again. We were done at six p.m., all of us sweaty and tired. I think he made us lift every weight in the whole damn place twice. I’ve never pushed myself so hard, and my team looked as haggard as me. We ate quickly, showered, and went straight to bed.

  The whole time, Royn peppered us with commentary. “When you’re in a battle, if you’re not firing on the enemy, you should be loading up or preparing for your next attack. If you’re not loading, you should be moving. If you’re not moving, you’re dead.”

  Others were slightly less morbid. “Rangers never quit,” or “Always have the capacity for one more rep, one more push,” or “Train hard and the battles will be easy.”

  Pfft. He wasn’t the one doing a thousand pushups. While people stood on your back. Throwing boulders to each other.

  Classroom work was next. Royn said we would learn every single code the Rangers use, how to communicate with higher ranking officials, military strategies, team formations, commands, etcetera, etcetera. This kind of schooling I actually liked – real life stuff, things we can use on the battlefield or in daily operations.

  Somehow during lessons, Royn kept up his mini life lessons. “Your brain is more important than how much power you can sling around; you can’t fight what you can’t find; a smart weak man will beat a dumb strong man every time; a minute’s worth of thinking could save an hour of work.”

  We ended at six again, and though we were sore, we weren’t physically tired – but I think all our brains hurt. Sitting at one of the round tables in the cafeteria, there wasn’t much conversation. So we all jumped when someone barked behind me: “Jayton Baird?”

  Standing up quickly, I said, “Yes?”

  “For you, sir,” said a man dressed in a solid-blue tuxedo, bowing and handing me a white envelope with elaborate blue swirls all over it. My name was on the front in big block letters. Then the guy promptly walked off before I said a word.

  People were laughing and pointing, so I sat back down as quick as I could with my whole table staring at me expectantly. I started opening it.

  Leona interrupted me. “That’s a Royal Invitation.” We all looked at her as she played with her food. “Well, it is. From the Reka. I live right next to them, you know.”

  That made sense, but she looked like she was hiding something.

  “Open it, Jay. See what it says,” Gilmer said.

  I slid my finger down the top, and pulled out an ornately decorated piece of thick paper with the same blue swirls all around it. Damn paper probably cost more than my train ticket to get here.

  “What’s it say?” Gilmer asked.

  I laid it flat on the table so everyone could read the curvy lettering. “Jayton Baird, you are cordially invited to dine with Princess Aurora Helotes on the 31st of March, in the Royal Reka Suite, 700 South Tower, 6 p.m.”

  “That’s our first day off,” Katy said. “Kinda rude to steal the man’s break.”

  “Jay’s got a date,” Anton said.

  “This just says dinner,” I said.

  “Sure sounds like a date to me,” Leona said, looking at her plate, gently placing her fork down and smoothing out her napkin.

  “If it’s a date, that’s sure a funny way of asking someone out.” Not that I had much experience with that sort of thing.

  “Jay saw her on the train,” Gilmer said. “She—”

  I kicked him under the table and he stifled a yelp.

  “—uh…she talked to him then,” Gilmer finished.

  “I bet she did more than talk,” Leona said, throwing her napkin down and promptly getting up, Katy right on her heels. They left the cafeteria.

  “What’s up with them?” I asked.

  “Jayton, I think you’re female-illiterate. At least one of them is either jealous or mad or both, and the other is being her wingman to back her up,” Anton said.

  “Yeah, buddy,” Gilmer said. “Or maybe they just don’t like other pretty girls. Or maybe they don’t like you paying attention to someone else.”

  “So what happened on the train?” Anton asked.

  ***

  The next six days followed the same pattern: train, eat, sleep, wake up, do it again. It followed the same sequence, too: powers, physical fitness, classwork. Each night the team talked for a half an hour before collapsing, just getting to know each other. We talked about everything – the girls’ attitudes had gone away almost as quickly as they’d come on. Some nights Leona and I were the last ones up, talking a little longer than the others. She was easy to talk to.

  I absolutely loved the training – it wasn’t easy, but it came easier to me than the others. Quickly – and for the first time in my life – I was the best at almost everything we did. When we sparred with the other squads, I bested them as well, even without my Fire Eyes. We didn’t hurt anyone though, thank God.

  Finally, after our third classroom da
y, at six p.m. again, Royn stared at a battered, worn-out group of Rangers. With a deep breath, he said, “All right, you’re dismissed for your day off tomorrow. Don’t have too much fun; we’ll see you back in two days, same time.”

  We didn’t wait for him to change his mind, all of us heading straight down the stairs onto the street. Finding the closest pub, The Flamin’ Amon, we grabbed a table, ordered some beers, and toasted as soon as they arrived.

  The aforementioned tavern was little more than a wood shack on the outer wall of Harlingon. It looked like a strong puff of wind, maybe from a passing butterfly, might knock it over. It was thirty-by-thirty square, with a few tables, and one bar with a gnarly looking old bartender. After all the crap we’d been doing, it looked like a palace.

  “Here’s to the first round done!” Gilmer exclaimed, and we all took a big sip. Food came next, greasy hamburgers trumping the cafeteria food we’d had for the last nine days.

  “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize how much I missed real food!” Katy said, starting on her second hamburger.

  “Where do you put it all, Katy? You’re like a buck ten…” Gilmer said.

  Anton answered for her. “She didn’t used to eat like this. It must be her Speed power – increasing her metabolism, needing more food than she used to. Because she’s eaten more than me every meal since we got here.”

  Katy raised an eyebrow. “And that’s bad?”

  Anton blushed. “Well, no. It hasn’t touched your girlish figure. You’ve got curves in all the right places.”

  The rest of us busted out laughing as Katy tried to reach up and smack him on the back of the head, but couldn't quite get there. Finally, she got frustrated and sat with a glare, though I caught the hint of a smile when everyone else looked away.

  I couldn’t help but see the damned executioner. Always hanging around in my peripheral vision, never really doing anything – just being there. Like an itch between your shoulder blades you can’t quite reach. Every now and then, he’d draw one of those black metal daggers, the black light a distraction no matter what I was doing.

  As the night wore on, we ordered several rounds, and were generally having a good time. When I went to the bar to pick up our order, I heard, “Being under the influence is no excuse if you lose control of the Morsenube, boy. You’d better watch it – wouldn’t want to have to spill your blood all over this fine establishment.”

  The executioner laughed as he walked by, his cloak swishing.

  Jerk.

  Chapter 14

  We finished our beers and started the walk back to our rooms. Even this late, the few people who remained out and about whispered and stared, and I was getting tired of it. What did I do to them? They acted like I was going to explode and eat their children. Leona got quieter as we walked and her gait stiffened. I couldn’t tell what, but something was bothering her.

  Just before we got back to the barracks, Leona suddenly pushed me to the side and dove the other way. “Look out, Jay!”

  Blue flames erupted from the space we’d occupied just a few seconds before, catching the nearby buildings on fire and melting the metal poles outside.

  “Quick, dose it before it spreads!” Anton said, opening a valve on a pipe sticking out of the ground.

  Leona and I looked at each other and nodded, bursting into action, manipulating the water. Using fluid movements, we directed two streams at the bases of the fire, sweeping back and forth until the fire was out, steam and smoke wafting up from the embers.

  “Whoa,” I said, brushing some of the stray water off me as Anton closed the valve. “If that’d been us, we’d be burnt to a crisp! You just saved our butts, Leona.”

  She shrugged. “I…felt the fire. I can’t explain it.” She smiled. “So now you owe me?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, probably at least one.”

  Silence ensued as we continued on our way. That fire was a trap, no doubt about it. But who hated me that much? Looking around, scanning the area, I thought I saw a black cape swirl around a corner. The executioner? No, couldn’t be. Would he stoop that low? He seemed to have more integrity to that.

  I shook my head – I didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter anyway. We were safe, we had fun, and that was that. The mood had been ruined though – nearly dying will do that. At one a.m., we all fell asleep in the common room.

  The next day, after waking, shower, and food, I was notified via my badge that I had received my first real Ranger pay, and that I needed to go the bank to set up an account – I’ve never had enough money to need one before. Woo hoo!

  Asking the squad where it was, I watched a couple of people go ahead of me before I walked up to the teller.

  Apparently Rangers made decent money. I mean, I knew they made money, but I didn’t know they made that much. I set up an account in my parents’ name and put half of my earnings in there. I’d call them later to let them know – the account would be new for them, too. After that, I asked the teller how much I would actually need to live in Harlingon for the next year, and he gave me a number. “All right, so the leftover amount it’s about ten percent?” He nodded. “Then let’s give the rest to charity?”

  “What charity, sir?”

  “The church or an organization that helps orphans and widows – anything that does good. I’ll let you figure it out.”

  “You got it, sir!”

  Feeling much better about the situation, I ran back up to the room for more hanging around until my date.

  When I started to get ready, Leona and Katy suddenly decided they had somewhere else to be.

  I showered, shaved, and put on the best clothes I had – my Ranger outfit.

  “Well, you’ll be ‘presentable,’ at least,” Gilmer said, and we all laughed. I grabbed the invitation out of my drawer, they wished me good luck – for what I didn’t know – and I stepped out the door. I went outside for a short bit. It was almost April now, with a slight chill to the nighttime air. I was nervous, mouth dry and butterflies jumping around. It wasn’t far, but I still had to pull out my badge for directions at least five times before I got to the right floor.

  I double checked again, and found room number seven hundred. Suddenly I felt underdressed. What was I doing? This was way out of my league. How could this be a good idea? I didn’t even know where to start with royalty. But she did send the invite, so…

  I took a deep breath and knocked on the most elaborately carved wooden doors I had ever seen.

  The door swung wide. Aurora answered the door herself, and my heart jumped in my throat. Or somewhere else. Her blue skin blended with the dress she was wearing so closely I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. If you could call it a dress – it barely covered anything. Tied above her neck, the backless number sloped down over her breasts, came together in the middle, and had a slit down either side. And she made it look good.

  “H-h-hi, Aurora, you look…incredible,” I managed to get out before I started drooling.

  “Good evening, Portlandian. Please come in. You look simply delicious,” she cooed, with a slight bow.

  Stepping across the threshold, I entered a world that I hadn’t been privy to in my life. Not even in the picture books. Everything was fancy – the huge, twenty-foot, ornately carved table, the ten, ornately carved – sensing a pattern here? – high-backed chairs, three intricately designed chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and exquisite silverware laid out in what I assumed was a perfect arrangement over blue placemats and napkins.

  “What do you think?” she asked, grabbing my hand and leading me further into the room, gesturing at the entire ensemble with the other. Her hand was warm yet cool at the same time. And soft.

  “This is…very nice, thank you. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me,” I said.

  She chuckled. “This dining room is for my family’s personal use when we’re here at Harlingon. It was no trouble at all.”

  I tried to take it all in, but there was t
oo much to look at.

  “Shall we eat?” she asked, motioning to the table. Apparently I’d ignored her too long. Her voice was almost a purr, and her eyes danced in the candlelight.

  “Sure, let me get your seat,” I said, pulling out the head chair for her to sit in. I figured, you know, “princess” and all, I’d better mind my manners. And my tongue. And my eyes. And really pretty much everything, to be honest.

  Laughing, she put her hand on my cheek and led me to two of the middle chairs. “We’ll sit together tonight. Easier to talk…and such…”

  I pulled out her chair again – my mother would kill me if I didn’t – and we both sat. She rang a little bell, and a waiter came from nowhere, delivering the first course: potato soup. She sat on my left, and while the waiter/butler/whatever was there, she sat up very straight with her hands on her lap. As soon as he left, she started eating with her left hand, while her right rested on my leg.

  “How’s your food?” she asked.

  It was so small, it looked like a little kid’s cup to me. But I was polite. “Very good. Thank you again.” I finished in five bites, as did she, smiling almost the whole time.

  Aurora rang the bell again, straightening and pulling her hand back. The waiter – this time I got a good look at him: an older balding Reka who looked like surprisingly fit – brought out a platter of fried calamari. Only reason I knew it was calamari was because she told me. The only reason she told me was because I asked. Call it what you want, but it looked like squid to this country boy.

  Turned out it was, but it tasted good. Aurora grabbed my hand and didn’t let go while we ate the fried delicacies. I followed her lead on the utensils – I’d never learned that particular piece of etiquette. I always thought if you had one knife, one fork, one spoon, you were good to go. Guess not.