The Arena

by Bradford Bates

  Just what was magic, anyway? I had yet to see any of my fellow students actually cast a spell. What if it was all just smoke and mirrors? I was starting to wonder if I had just found myself trapped in some kind of weird cult. Then I remembered Alby and what she had said. You are one of them. I guess I was one of them, but what exactly did that mean? I had been excited to go to college and was looking forward to a normal life. Being one of the Gifted meant I would never do anything normal again. It was still a bit of a shocker. We’d better get to the magic part pretty soon so I could see if working somewhere where I could die daily was worth it.

  Swiping my card on the door panel and opening it, I almost missed the note taped to the front. Great, just what I needed: some asshat leaving a note on my door. As if I didn’t already have enough to think about tonight. Isn’t that how it always worked out? Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, something else always landed in your lap. I plucked the note from the door and headed inside.

  Taking a look at the note, I was surprised to see that the envelope was imprinted with the same symbol as my necklace. Underneath the symbol, the words “Novus Ordo Seclorum” were printed. “New order of the ages,” I thought. Just like on the back of the one dollar bill. Placing the note on the counter, I moved into the kitchen to get a frozen pizza ready for dinner. Yeah, it was only four thirty, but hey, when you have to be up by six for a two-hour-plus workout, it pays to get in bed early.

  Plucking the note off the counter, I plopped down onto the couch to open it up. I had to read the note a few times before I grew frustrated by more cryptic shit. Not everyone who helps you is a friend. Seriously, what the hell did that even mean? It was like when we used to just add Confucius says in front of things to make them sound like sage advice. Confucius says this note is bullshit. See how awesome that sounds? Since my adoptive parents had died, I hadn’t really met anyone who offered to help me except for Stillman. Was this person trying to warn me about him?

  Underneath the note, it had the same symbol of the all-seeing eye. Although, just like on my necklace, this symbol was slightly different than the back of a dollar bill. The eye was in the center of the triangle. I rubbed my finger over the symbol, and the note burst into bright blue flames. Startled, I dropped the paper. Thankfully, the fire burned out before it hit the rug below my feet. Then I looked at my hand in shock. I wasn’t burned at all. Hadn’t I just seen this trick earlier today? How interesting. If things kept going like this, it was going to be a fascinating year even without magic.

  The next month flew by, mostly due to my constant state of exhaustion. I was starting to feel this impending sense of dread. It was like a cloud hanging over my head. Exceling at physical training was one thing, and learning the basic of magic on paper was another. But soon I was going to have to actually use magic, and I still had no idea if I could. I asked the professor about it one day, and he just smiled and shrugged. That, of course, was a great help. Apparently spending time learning the theories behind the magic before actually using it was a recommended technique. With the month coming to an end, my guess was that it was time to move on to the actual application of magic. I was a little worried about combat magic. If I couldn’t cast a spell, how would I defend myself against one?

  Our new schedules had been delivered to our doors overnight. We had been granted two days off before the new schedule started. Getting some much needed rest would be nice, but I had too much work to do. My schedule was slightly different than before, but still included a morning workout. So I was still going to get grilled by Sarge every morning, but for less time. Then it was off to Simons for history, principles of magic, and bestiary. All of those subjects were crammed into one class, kind of like a magic 101. The entire afternoon block had been dedicated to a new class simply called spellcraft.

  The excitement at the thought of actually using magic almost thrummed through my body. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as it grew stronger. Here it was; I was finally going to get to use magic. Hell yeah! My excitement was quickly replaced by fear. What if I couldn’t cast a spell? What would I do then? Oh, man, this was going to be a nightmare. I really did not want to turn into a laughingstock. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I had the feeling if you couldn’t use magic, then you didn’t have a place here. The only thing I could do was try. If I failed, then I would deal with that when it happened. They wouldn’t have wasted all this time with me if they didn’t believe I could do it. Right?

  While my morning workouts had kept me in impressive physical shape, and the yoga had added to my flexibility, I still hadn’t progressed as far as I would have liked in combat drills. I had never been much of a fighter. I mostly just kept my head down and stayed out of the way. If something got really serious, I always thought I could handle myself, but the last month had proved me wrong. Some of the students had been trained in multiple forms of hand-to-hand combat before coming to the academy. The speed at which they could execute moves left me in awe.

  Sarge must have decided to take some pity on me. I wasn’t sure why, unless he had noticed the extra hours I was putting in at the gym during the night. If this school was built around combat, I needed to get better and quickly. I was working out with the heavy bag when he approached.

  “It’s good to see you can hit a stationary target now, Jackson,” Sarge said as he dropped a bag of equipment down by his feet.

  I could see the smile on his face, and I knew he was joking with me. I also had the feeling whatever he had in mind would lead to some new and interestingly shaped bruises. “What’s up, Sarge?”

  His smile grew wider; now I knew I was in trouble. “Grab a helmet and some gloves, and meet me in the ring. It’s time you learned how to hit a moving target.”

  Oh man, this really was going to hurt. I picked up a light sparring helmet and a set of gloves. In class, we didn’t use boxing gloves, because out in the real world, who walked around with a pair of those tucked in their pockets? I mean, when would you ever be able to slip them on before a fight? Excuse me, sir, can you wait a moment while I put on my boxing gloves? We practiced with lightly padded gloves that still let all your fingers move individually. The gloves gave us the ability to still grab and throw our opponents. They weren’t good for too much else except saving you the smallest amount of wear and tear on your knuckles. That was something, though, since every other part of me hurt from being hit during training.

  That was how I started having nightly sparring sessions with Sarge. He took the time to walk me through the exercises and explain to me what I should be focusing on during the fight. I knew he was taking it easy on me, but I still left every night with at least one new bruise. I was sure all the other kids wondered why I kept getting new bruises and where they were coming from. At least no one actually asked me about them. It was already well known that I was the worst fighter in class, so a few extra bruises could be overlooked easily enough. It was a rumor I actually didn’t mind having spread around. I was going to shock a few people when we actually had to fight each other. In my opinion, it was always better to be underestimated. Slowly, night by night, I was learning.

  Walking into class the next morning, I was shocked to see Introduction to Lycans written on the board. I mean, we all watched Underworld, right? Those things were terrifying, and now they might be real. Learning how to fight with Sarge was one thing; learning that werewolves existed and I might have to fight one was something else entirely. Seriously, werewolves were real. This place just liked to drop one bombshell after another on you. What was next—vampires, demons, and fairies? Well, at least I knew some of the things I’d started seeing during the summer were real. It made a lot more sense now than it did back then.

  For our bestiary class, we had a new professor. His name was on the lower end of the chalkboard: Aaron Dreslin. He looked just like any other college professor that I had ever seen, maybe a bit more preppy than most. He was wearing a nice dress shirt with a tie and sweater vest. Everything ab
out him was neat and tidy. I had been hoping that Professor Small would be teaching this class as well, but it looked as if we would have rotating teachers.

  “Today we will be talking about Lycans, otherwise known in popular culture as werewolves. I know, for a lot of you, basic information on the Lycan is not needed, but for some of you, this will be new information.”

  I felt the teacher’s eyes focus on me for a bit, along with some of the other students in the room.

  Before I could get too embarrassed, Professor Dreslin continued. “Lycans are pack-oriented creatures. You will almost never encounter one alone, especially if they are out hunting. So keep your eyes open out in the field. Sighting one Lycan could mean several more are also nearby. When shifted, they can range in size from seven to ten feet tall. There are outliers, of course. The largest one recorded was measured at just over twelve feet tall.”

  I heard a snort from the back of the class.

  “Anyone have a comment about what I have said so far?” Professor Dreslin asked.

  I was not surprised to find out that it was Ted who wanted to argue the point. “Twelve feet tall? Come on, Professor, that has to be a joke, right?”

  The professor gave him a glare that would have withered plants. “It most certainly is not. In every species we see outliers on both ends of the spectrum; in humans, we have dwarfs and giants. It is the same in the Lycan world. Would I tell you to expect a twelve-foot Lycan around every corner? Only if that is what it takes to save your life. Outside of that, I would expect them to fall in the established range of seven to ten feet.”

  No one spoke after the professor finished putting Ted in his place, so the professor continued. “You can expect a fully transformed Lycan to weigh anywhere from four to six hundred pounds.”

  He looked back to where Ted was sitting to see if he had anything else to say before continuing. “Unlike popular mythology would have you believe, Lycans are not bound by a lunar cycle. They can shift wherever and whenever they want. The lunar cycle is not totally irrelevant, though. Those infected by a Lycan bite tend to take thirty days to transform. The first time a human changes into a Lycan, they are unstable. The pack plays a huge role in keeping them under control and guiding them through their first transformation.

  “Not every human bitten will be able to handle the virus. Some die outright when bitten, and some die during the thirty days leading up to their initial shift. Just as breeding rates among top predators seem to be lower, so are the numbers of humans who can actually sustain the process of transformation. Most of the Lycans you see today were born as offspring to their parents. Bitten Lycans are becoming rarer as time goes on.”

  The professor smiled as if thinking of a memory. “Some people like to think of them as animals, but that would be the wrong thing to do. A fully shifted Lycan retains human-level intelligence. Add to that a huge size and strength advantage, and you have an apex predator. Not to mention one who can heal almost instantly from any kind of wound. We have found, through extensive testing, that when shifted, the Lycans have a higher bone density than just about anything on the planet.”

  I did not want to think about what extensive testing meant. Before I could get lost in the information, the professor continued speaking.

  “You cannot kill a Lycan with a gunshot—yes, even with a silver bullet. A single shot from long distance would likely only leave a scratch. A high-caliber bullet to the head, even from a close range, would likely deflect off the hardened bone of their skulls, although if the shot went through the eye, it might cause enough damage to buy you some time to get away. The most efficient way that we know of to kill a Lycan is to cause direct damage to the spinal column to slow them down, and then to decapitate or burn them.”

  He watched the class’s faces, looking to see how people reacted to that last statement. “Any damage that is not fatal to the Lycan can be healed over time. Even a broken back will only keep them out of action for about two or three days. Make no mistake: they are fearsome predators and will kill you for interfering in pack business. Our standard procedure for dealing with them is to let the packs police themselves. If they fail to curtail any violence against humans from their members, we take direct action.

  “That concludes our high-level overview of Lycans. I have sent each of you a file you can download onto your Kindle for further reading on the subject. Before we dismiss class, does anyone have any questions?”

  I was still thinking about everything we had learned in class. It was a lot to take in about a creature I thought was a myth until right now. I wanted to know more, but I also didn’t want everyone to hate me for making them stay longer.

  “Professor, when you say we take direct action, what do you mean?” I just blurted out.

  He looked at me as if maybe I was pulling his leg. “I mean we send a member of the Ascendancy to dispatch the rogue Lycan.”

  “And a single member of the Ascendancy can kill a rogue or a group of rogue Lycans alone with no backup?”

  “Without a doubt. Anything else on your mind?”

  “That was it. Thanks, Professor.” It was crazy to think that one day I might be able to fight a Lycan or a group of them alone and come out of it alive. Even Selene didn’t relish the thought of doing that, but hey, all she had was guns. I had something else I could rely on. At least I hoped I did.

  “All right, then. Everyone, class is dismissed,” the professor announced before turning his back on the class and wiping down the chalkboard.

  12

  Jackson

  A month into my stay at the academy, I knew two things for certain: that I had not made any friends yet, and that I also had at least one enemy. I still wasn’t sure why that douchebag Ted had singled me out, but he had, and there was nothing I could do about it now. Most of the students seemed to like to be alone. I wondered if this was a magic-user thing, or if none of us had really had a chance to bond yet. All of us were in direct competition and challenging each other every day. While that served to make all of us better, it might have also put a barrier in place for creating new friendships.

  Today was going to be the day we used magic for the first time. After months of talking about it, I was ready to find out if I could actually do it. Most of the students here had grown up using magic, so they had an edge. I grew up thinking magic belonged on the big screen while I was killing a pack of red vines and kicking back on the couch. It really shouldn’t bother me too much that they had a head start, but the more time I spent at this academy, the less I wanted to go back into the real world. This place had started to feel like home. If I couldn’t use magic, my time here would be at an end.

  I caught Professor Dreslin sitting alone at lunch. He was reading a paper and drinking a glass mug of hot coffee. I’d have bet it was black; he seemed like the kind of person who liked no frills. “Hey, Professor, can I ask you a quick question?”

  He folded the paper over and looked at me. “Sure thing, Jackson.”

  “I’m a little nervous about this magic class after lunch. I’ve never really used magic before.”

  “Jackson, trust me when I tell you this: you are going to be fine.” He gave me a warm smile, which was out of place for him.

  “That is what I keep telling myself, but I’m just not sure,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.

  “Look at it this way: do you want to be able to use magic? Then you will be able to. Relax and have fun with it. This is just the beginning.”

  “It’s just with all the talk of fighting and maybe dying, it seems as if having fun isn’t an option.”

  “After the first time you tangle with a Lycan, come and find me. If you didn’t have fun, we are going to have to find you a different line of work.”

  “Thanks for the quick chat, Professor. I’ll let you get back to your lunch now.”

  He watched me for a second and then unfolded his paper and started reading. I headed over to the make-your-own-sandwich bar. For today, the choice seemed simple:
pastrami, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo, and mustard. A side of fries or two might have also found their way onto my plate, as well as a giant chocolate chip cookie. It was highly possible that I saved that cookie from possible extinction. Ok, who was I kidding? When it came to cookie extinction, I was a world-ender.

  Lunch seemed to end faster than I would have imagined, and it was time to head off to my first class of casting spells. Everyone I passed in the hallways was bouncing around with uncontained excitement. The energy in the air was palpable. All I felt was frightened. I could feel my muscles growing tense with every step I took closer to where I would find out my fate. Being a complete failure was not off the table, no matter how many people told me I’d be fine. Sarge had said the same thing last night, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

  I was really getting worked up walking down the hall, almost to the point of feeling like I just needed to turn around and go back home. I felt a hand on my shoulder. If this was Blondie, I was going to get in big trouble for knocking him out. I turned around and was greeted not by Ted but by warm brown skin and the gentle bounce of the beads tied into his dreadlocks.

  “Whoa, easy there, Jackson,” Marcus said while slowly removing his hand from my shoulder. “For a second there, I thought you were going to hit me.”

  “I was going to for a second.” He gave me a quizzical look. “Well, not you, but I thought it might have been someone else, and I’ve been thinking about hitting him for a while now.”