by John Corwin
She backed away from him. "Max, you little devil!"
He chuckled and turned on the device. "Good thing these aether batteries last a long time." The main screen appeared and Max hunted through various icons. "Wow, this looks like he used it as a development tablet."
"Development?" Ambria said.
"Yeah, for testing scripts and stuff." Max touched an icon and the screen went blank. "Oops."
"What did you do?" Ambria crowded over his left shoulder for a look. "You broke it, didn't you?"
"Who dares access my arctablet?" The apparition of a man dressed in black robes and thick glasses appeared in the air before us.
Max yelped and nearly knocked the rest of us off the carpet in his haste to back up.
I steadied him. "I think it's a projection from the tablet."
"Oh, it is." Max smiled sheepishly. "Scared the crap out of me."
The hologram stared blankly ahead, apparently waiting for an answer to its question.
"Well, what do I say?" Max asked.
Ambria looked at the shelf and squinted. She reached over and pulled a parchment stuck between two of the tablets and unfolded it. "I am the dread pirate Roberts."
"Welcome, Dread Pirate Roberts!" The man held out his hands in welcome. "What is the password?"
Ambria looked at the parchment and frowned. "Um, twue wuv?"
"Access granted." The holographic man bowed and vanished. The table screen turned on and displayed a list of videos below the title, Mr. Smith's Complete Guide to Cyrinthian Programming. Ambria raised an eyebrow and looked quite pleased with herself.
"Nice work!" Max stared at the videos. "Looks like we have plenty to watch."
Ambria handed me the parchment. "You might want to hold onto this."
It appeared Ezzek Moore had numbered the tablets and provided passwords for each one, along with the dates each one had been copied. There were summaries of the information on each one as well.
I skimmed through them. "It says that tablet seven has the finalized version of the programming guide on it."
Max grabbed the other tablets and set them on the carpet. "Makes sense. Number seven is the last one."
We flew back to the table and dusted off tablet seven. This one prompted us for a password before the screen even showed up and the name of the guide was different. Instead of Mr. Smith, it said Adam Nosti.
"I wonder if Smith was a fake name," Ambria said.
Max shrugged. "Probably an online name." He scrolled to the first video and played it back. A young man with thick glasses looked back at us.
"Welcome to my guide on Cyrinthian programming. I've tried to keep this updated over the years, so expect to find the latest and greatest information." Adam pushed his glasses up his nose. "Before we go any further, make sure you understand the risks of magic programming and don't execute a live script without thoroughly testing it in a development simulation." He leaned back and flashed a smile. "In this video, I'll cover the basics of programming."
Max cracked his knuckles. "This is more like it."
"I hope it's easier to follow," Ambria said.
I took out my notepad and let the lesson begin.
We spent the next hour watching the first two basic videos and then had to stop so we could do the homework for our classes. By the time we left the vault it was nearly midnight and I could barely keep my eyes open.
Shushiel revealed herself on the ceiling outside and once again nearly caused us to faint with fright. "I thought you might be in there," she said.
"I never know when you're around," Max said.
"Apologies." The spider tilted forward on its front legs. "I had to attend to family but I am here to watch over Conrad as he sleeps."
"Thanks, Shushiel." I patted her foreleg. "It makes me feel safe."
The entire campus was in a festive mood the next day. Students of all ages sported their keep colors and posters for Kabash tryouts reminded me the deadline to join a team was quickly approaching. Many professors also wore the colors of their keeps and kept the lessons light and easy—Gideon Grace, of course, being the lone exception.
Esma, sporting the black and white scarf of Moore Keep, seemed as cheerful as the rest and refrained from zapping students as they entered the classroom. Instead of a regular lesson, she asked students about their favorite professional Kabash players and spoke about some of the best teams in university history.
It was little surprise that Esma mentioned Delectra among the greatest—a fact that drew scowls from the likes of Harris and his friends.
Liana clapped her hands and smiled at me. "That explains why you're so good, Conrad."
"He's lucky, not good," Harris growled. "Why do you think he's not playing this year?"
"Edison stinks at Kabash." Baxter sneered at me. "Tiberius won the cup last year, and it'll win this year."
Foolish boys, Della said. In your first year, you were the second-highest scoring carry. That is not luck.
While I appreciated her support, I decided not to engage the naysayers.
Max couldn't restrain himself. "You don't know what you're talking about! Conrad flew circles around your whole team!"
"That will be quite enough, children." Esma's cold voice extinguished the heated argument. "Belittling another person only shows what a little person you are."
Harris stared daggers at me, but knew better than to challenge Esma, lest he find himself at the receiving end of her wand.
As class ended, Esma gave me a sharp look that made me linger after the other students had left.
"You're not playing Kabash," she said in an emotionless voice when we were the last two left.
I shook my head. "I don't have time."
"You've put your quest above everything else." Again, her voice remained neutral.
"I have to." My reply sounded more defensive than intended. "Kabash is just a game."
"It's an experience." Esma walked around her desk. "It's a memory you'll treasure once you leave this place behind."
"If I survive that long." I fiddled with the straps on my backpack. "I also have all the work Ansel gives me."
"Don't change the subject." Esma put a hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps a game doesn't sound so important to you, but there is so much pain, so much ugliness in the world. Do you not deserve a moment's respite? Do you not deserve happiness?"
All the weight of my quest, the bullying I'd endured, and the faint hope I might be able to save Cora crashed down on me. True happiness might await at my quest's end, but what if I could claim tiny bits of it right now? Kabash would not solve my problems, but it might make me feel better.
Esma stroked my hair. "What is the point of life if you cannot enjoy it, dear boy?" She kissed my forehead and jerked back, visibly shaken, and rushed from the room.
I was so surprised it took me a moment to chase after her. I caught her before she rounded the corner. "Esma, what's wrong?"
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Favoritism is not kindly looked upon."
"You don't show me favoritism!" A wry laugh escaped me. "If anything, you make me work harder than anyone else."
Esma opened her eyes, dark with sadness. "I push you so hard because I want you to succeed." Her voice was low and somber. "I want you to be ready for what you will face." She took my hand in hers. "Enjoy this life, Conrad. Live a little before you run off and get yourself killed."
Her words struck deep. What if my quest failed? What if I missed chances to be happy and passed them up for obsession? I saw this moment as an opportunity to ask her another question. "Why does Ansel dislike you?"
"He does not like what I truly am." Esma offered a sad smile. "He is difficult to like, and deeply troubled by his past, but Ansel will point you in directions you might not have considered." She released my hand and folded her arms over her chest. "I hope it is enough." Esma turned and walked away.
I watched her go as if in a trance. I'm her favorite! Somehow I already knew that, but hearing her say i
t aloud filled me with both joy and dread. What if I couldn't live up to her expectations? Then again, the only expectation she'd expressed had been her desire to see me play Kabash, and even then it was for my own happiness, not hers. Everything she'd taught me, the introduction to Ansel and arcnology, had opened my eyes and given me opportunities I might never have had otherwise.
In the orphanage, the Goodleighs had controlled every aspect of my life. They'd expected me to turn into a strong Arcane they could sell to the highest bidder. My parents had likewise forced me to become the vessel of their resurrection and more recently, the Seers had kidnapped me for their purifying ritual.
They all used me to realize their own expectations.
Esma only wanted me to make my own choices. She showed me the paths, but left it up to me to decide which one to take. It was a far cry from what I'd endured, and a heavy burden, but it was mine to bear or not.
It is hard to let someone you care about make a choice you think is not in their best interest. Della sounded subdued, almost reflective.
But you want me to play Kabash, I reminded her.
Yes, but that is your decision to make. She sighed. I will support you no matter what.
I'm happy to hear that, considering we're stuck with each other. I chuckled out loud.
Della burst into laughter as well. Yes, I'm afraid it might make for some awkward moments.
I'm glad you're nicer than you used to be. I began to walk to the dining hall. Why hasn't Vic changed like you?
There is some darkness not even the brightest light can penetrate. Her words sent chills down my back.
Is he really so evil?
The silence was answer enough.
I searched the dining hall and found Max and Ambria sitting at a table off to the side. It came as a mild surprise to see Liana sitting to Ambria's left.
"There you are," Liana said as I took a chair next to Max. "What kept you?"
"I had to ask Professor Emoora a question." I leaned back as a golem set a plate of steaming roast in front of me.
"Your mother was quite a Kabash player." Liana cut a piece of roast as she spoke. "It's obvious where you get your talent."
Ambria scowled. "Look, he's already decided not to play, so just leave it alone."
Max stabbed a fork into his potatoes. "Yep, we're doomed."
"I'm going to play," I said.
Ambria's eyes went wide. "But you said—"
"Brilliant!" Max shouted.
The hall went quiet at his outburst, heads turning our way, and then the dull roar of conversation picked up where it left off.
Max leaned forward and softly said, "Brilliant."
"What changed your mind?" Ambria said.
I shrugged. "I thought I'd have some fun before this quest kills us."
Max gulped and smiled uneasily. "Let's hope we get to play for years to come."
Liana laughed. "I'm glad to hear you're playing, Conrad. I'm not the only one who doesn't want Tiberius to win the cup this year."
Despite the extra stress Kabash practice would put on my schedule, I felt oddly relieved to have made a decision. Right or wrong, I would do my best to enjoy the experience.
I heard my name mentioned at the neighboring table and cocked my ear to pick up the conversation.
"I just heard Edison say he's playing," said a boy in the black and white of Moore Keep. The girl next to him clapped her hands and said something to the girl next to her. A boy in the purple and red of Tiberius Keep scowled and left the table, apparently unhappy at the news.
"I don't understand why people think I'm the only thing standing between Tiberius Keep and the championship," I said.
"You're too modest," Liana said. "You came close to tying your mother's record in strikes last year, and she didn't get that until her third season!"
Someone had mentioned that before, but the number didn't mean much to me. The feel of the wind, the exhilaration of flying after the discus, of hearing the sound of a strike on an enemy building made me feel alive. Why that was, I didn't know, but now that I'd decided to play, I couldn't wait to feel it again.
Liana waved to her friend, Jessica, and got up. "I promised I'd let her look at my homework for history class. Thanks for letting me sit with you!"
I couldn't help watching her walk away and jumped when Ambria pinched my arm.
"Stop staring, Conrad." She waggled a finger. "It's rude."
My face warmed uncomfortably. I got up and gathered my belongings.
Max swallowed a mouthful. "You're finished already?"
"Yeah, just want to beat the crowd to class." I took a last sip of tea.
"Hang on." Max stuffed the rest of his bread in his mouth and got up.
Ambria gave me a strange look as she rose to her feet. "Are you feeling unwell?"
I faked a smile. "Just fine."
We were headed down the winding halls to history class when a familiar voice called out, "Oh, Edison."
Harris and Baxter stepped out in front of us. I stopped in my tracks and spun around. Rhys and Devon stared back at me, wands at the ready.
Chapter 22
"What do you want?" I said, knowing full well why they were here. Word had gotten around about my decision to play Kabash.
"We warned you," Rhys said.
Devon finished his sentence without pause. "But you didn't listen."
"Afraid of a little competition?" Max's face was pale, but he stuck out his chest in an attempt to appear brave.
"Should've listened, Edison." Harris snarled at me. "One day it's going to be you and me. Until then you need to stay out of my way."
"Because I'm evil?" I felt a surge of anger coming from Vic, but tried not to let it affect my thinking.
I'm sorry, son. Della seemed angry with herself. I'm sorry we ruined your life.
I didn't have time to deal with her inner musings and the physical threat at the same time, so I let her keep talking and tried to ignore it.
"Exactly," Harris said. "An evil liar I'm destined to destroy." He cracked his knuckles. "If it were up to me, I'd do it right now."
"I'm certain we could arrange a convincing accident," Devon said.
Rhys giggled. "A broom malfunction, perhaps?"
Ambria's eyes flashed wide. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Of course we'd dare." Devon stepped closer, his mirror image in lockstep.
"You're horrible people!" Ambria shoved Rhys in the chest. "Stay away from us!"
Devon gripped her wrists. "Don't you dare strike my brother, little girl!"
Rhys reared back his hand as if to hit her and something snapped in me. I dove at him, bowling him to the ground. Max roared and crashed into his other brother. I flailed with my fists. Something hit me hard in the face and stars flashed. Ambria screamed. I flipped and a weight crashed down on my chest. I threw up my arms as blows rained down on my face.
Shouts came from nearby. The weight vanished and footsteps stomped away from us.
The taste of iron filled my mouth. I blinked the blurriness from my vision and saw the stone gray ceiling above.
Ambria's face appeared. "Conrad, are you okay?"
I nodded. "What happened?"
"You foolish boy!" She threw herself on top of me and gave me a brutal hug. "What were you thinking?"
"They were going to hit you." I winced at a stinging pain in my lip. "I want to get up, please."
"Yes, of course." Ambria stood and extended a hand to help me up, but I settled for rolling onto all fours and pushing up. "You're every bit as foolish, Max." Ambria gave him a hug as well when he gained his feet. "My brave fools."
Max looked mostly unharmed aside from a red mark on his cheek. The look on his face told me I'd suffered a bit more.
"Oh man, you're bleeding bad." Max stepped closer and grimaced. "Let's get you to the healer."
They took me to the healing ward. Percival, a tall thin man with a neatly oiled mustache frowned when he saw us. "I'm disappointed in you, Edis
on."
I swallowed hard. "For getting into a fight?"
He blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?" Percival threw up his arms. "Last year you brought me injury after injury." He snapped his fingers. "Ah, and the intrigue. It's not every day I get to treat a Siren."
"Um, well isn't getting injured bad?" Ambria said.
Percival ignored the question and started whistling as he inspected my wounds. "Perhaps you should get in a little physical exercise, young man." He pinched my bicep. "You're a bit scrawny."
I followed him into the back room and stopped in front of a mirror. It showed a pale thin boy with rumpled hair and a face streaked with blood. My arms were bruised and my upper lip was split. I rinsed my face in the sink and was able to determine the source of the blood was just my lip and not another cut.
Percival approached with a small vial with beige liquid inside. "This will stop the bleeding." He poured some on cotton and dabbed the wound. The blood instantly congealed into a scab. It didn't help the pain, but at least I wouldn't look like I'd just walked from a slaughterhouse. I rolled my shoulders and neck. Every joint ached.
Percival looked at Max. "You look fine—just a bit of bruising."
"How do you feel?" I asked him.
Max grinned. "Alive and crazy! Can you believe we attacked my brother?" He clapped his hands together once. "We hit my big brothers!"
I found it hard to share his excitement, though knowing how often his brothers had bullied him, this tiny rebellion probably felt like quite a breakthrough. "I guess we lost the fight."
He laughed. "Yeah, we lost big time, but I don't care." Max shadow-boxed the air. "I punched Devon in the eye. I hope it's black and blue."
"Exciting," Percival said. He motioned us back out into the waiting room. "Perhaps next time you'll bring me something more interesting."
Max grinned. "Next time, we'll send Rhys and Devon to you."
Foolish, brave boys. Della sighed. It will be the death of you.
I slapped Max on the back and felt some of his infectious joy forcing a grin on my face. "Wouldn't that be great?"