Subterfuge: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 3)

by J D Astra

  “What is going on here!” The voice boomed over all thought and brought me to my knees.

  Shin-soo collapsed to the ground and looked up from behind a sloppy bow. I held my hands overhead in surrender and looked to the Moon Shadow Grandmaster, Ena. Her skin glowed a strange silvery purple, and she seemed to levitate a few centimeters off the ground. Ry munje flowed around her like a wild storm, pushing her robes and hair about in an unnatural way that horrified me. I averted my gaze.

  “My deepest apologies, Grandmaster,” I said and turned to her. I put my head to the floor, my hands still held up in submission.

  Shin-soo scooted up beside me, his arms still limp. “We were sparring,” he said, and I bit my tongue. Shin-soo had not treated me like the ally I was, but we couldn’t trust anyone from Moon Shadow with any truth—though this lie was likely to be seen through easily. Better to say nothing at all.

  “Rise,” Ena commanded in a calm voice.

  When I lifted my head, the unnatural and terrifying munje display had ended, and I composed myself. I’d never seen Grandmaster Min-hwan do anything of the sort, even in our specialized training. We were out of our league.

  Ena looked me in the eyes, then Shin-soo. “All of you will join me in the Grandmaster’s office. Genta, get the Bastion instructors.”

  ‘Mae, help me cycle to reinforce our jang-ryzo. I have a terrible feeling we’re about to test its limits.’

  Chapter 17

  ENA LED US THROUGH the wide hall on the bottom floor to the back of the pagoda. We hadn’t seen any of the Moon Shadow instructors’ private rooms on our first tour, which were most certainly the rooms we were walking past now. Doors adorned with family names I couldn’t read, symbols and shapes that didn’t make any sense.

  ‘How’s it coming?’ I asked with urgency. From what I could tell, we’d almost walked the length of the pagoda and must’ve been nearing the Grandmaster’s room.

  “Jang-ryzo effectivity maxed out, and your reservoir is a quarter full with the ryzo needed to keep it refreshed,” Mae replied confidently.

  ‘And the uw munje?’

  “Still analyzing, but I think your memory is correct. Whatever Hiro did to Bo is what you did to Shin-soo, and what that shūspekta had done to you. This is powerful stuff.”

  My mind’s eye flashed with the images of black zo rolling down Shin-soo’s arms like smoke. I turned and looked at my rival. His arms still hung limply at his sides, and he glared at me. I returned my attention to the way forward.

  Large, sliding double doors emerged before us as we entered a reception area to leave our shoes. We’d been wearing indoor shoes, but Ena removed hers before stepping up to the door. I did the same. Shin-soo struggled without the use of his arms, but still managed. Hana, Yuri, Cho, Woong-ji, Sung-ki, and Genta each stowed their footwear, and we joined Ena at the door.

  She slid back the paper doors to reveal a very different room on the other side. It was still constructed of wood, but that was where the similarities to the rest of the pagoda ended. Machina of strange sorts I’d never seen populated every open corner of the room. Some looked like suits of armor, others workstations, and some were monitoring devices.

  The screens flickered with the images of the entire school, every room. The far wall was nearly four meters tall and three times as long, all covered in these screens that watched from every vantage point.

  Ena clasped her hands in front of her and addressed our awe. “Courtesy of Yamato Corp, but unfortunately under the control of King Hisachi. He wanted all the children to be safe from the terrorists.” She said this last part with a slight chuckle, as if she didn’t believe his intentions.

  “Please, come sit.” She invited us in, and there was another oddity I noticed.

  With every footfall, silvery-purple munje rippled out from under my bare toes. I took another step, my heart pounding with fear, and the munje rippled in jagged, sharp shapes. I looked down at Hana’s feet, and Shin-soo’s, to see something similar. Cho’s ripples were vibrating and angular, while Woong-ji’s were soft, smooth circles.

  Ena motioned for us to sit on the bare wood floor while she sat on a raised chair. When her feet left the floor, the ripples from under her calmed, then stopped. Was it some kind of ry detection spell she’d enchanted the wood with?

  “Now, Shin-soo, tell me again what you and Jiyong were doing,” Ena said as she folded her hands in her lap. There was no smile on her lips, but I felt the arrogance in her tone. She had us right where she wanted.

  Shin-soo cleared his throat nervously, and his voice came out quiet as he lied. “We were sparring.” The floor beneath flared bright orange, and the pattern changed. It zigged and zagged, the ring formation broken completely.

  “You are lying,” Ena said gently. There was an air of victory about her, and though her voice sounded kind, it was anything but.

  “We were fighting,” I said, and though the rings below me trembled, they did not break or turn colors.

  “About?” Ena asked, looking at me.

  “I feel it’s best we handle the matter of our student’s dispute,” Sung-ki interjected, his rings far calmer than mine. “None of the Moon Shadow students was involved, after all, and we will need to exact proper punishment.”

  Ena shook her head. “While you are in my walls or on my grounds, everything is my responsibility—just as everything within Bastion is Min-hwan’s. I cannot allow anything of that severity to happen at Moon Shadow.”

  “Of course, Grandmaster,” Woong-ji said, the floor beneath her placid. “We wouldn’t interfere with your process for protecting the school and the students. We only mean to say that no Moon Shadow student was involved in the incident. These boys have had problems in the past.” Woong-ji glanced between us with a severe look.

  “What were you fighting about?” Ena asked.

  I looked to Shin-soo. My lying was still quite bad, but perhaps I didn’t have to lie for us to get out of this. Shin-soo opened his mouth to speak, the lines under his body already broken and wiggling. Ena silenced him with a single glare.

  “The student here, Aki, we know him. His name is Ko-nah, and he’s the one who helped the Jade Fire exchange students poison the school. We were fighting over whether or not to kill him.” My rings were trembling like leaves in a typhoon, but the color stayed true—at least, I hoped that was how it worked.

  I keep my eyes on Ena, though I could feel the collective gazes of my friends upon me.

  “And which side were you on?” the Grandmaster asked, her gaze wandering to Ko-nah.

  “Both,” I said honestly, and my rings were calm for the first time. “He hurt my friend, badly. I want to see him punished, but it’s not my duty—or my right—to determine that punishment, nor carry it out.”

  Ena nodded, satisfied. “And Shin-soo, you feel differently?”

  Shin-soo’s rings were whole as he spoke the truth. “He’s a treacherous ganhan who deserves a slow, painful death.”

  “I told you it would be counterproductive to involve him,” Genta said indignantly.

  She smiled at the young man. “It’s easier to trust a familiar face, even one you hate, more than a stranger’s. I believe this had the effect we wanted.”

  “Speak plainly. What is this about?” Sung-ki demanded, the floor below him tinting red.

  Ena quirked an eyebrow. “No ry commands in here, Instructor. Not while you stand upon my domain. But I will speak plainly. We are Ribatasan—at least some of it. We know you were sent here to aid us.”

  Sung-ki grunted. “Why didn’t the informant meet with us in Heiko as he was supposed to?”

  “We haven’t had contact with them since they departed, and fear the worst,” Ena replied coolly.

  Suddenly, I felt as though I was missing a large piece of the puzzle. I looked left and right to see the rings below my friends shaking with fear and uncertainty, just like mine. We’d all been left out of the loop... Min-hwan didn’t trust us. We were only children after al
l, and Shin-soo had certainly just proved he wasn’t capable of keeping his mouth shut, Silent Pact or no.

  Woong-ji chuckled. “Convenient. If you speak the truth, and you are who you say you are, step down on your own spell and prove it.”

  Ena’s eyes went wild with anger and a smirk crept onto her lips. She uncurled one leg from under her and stepped on the floor. Perfectly circular purple rings radiated out as she spoke. “We are Ribatasan, and you are here to help us. Otherwise—” she paused, her smile turning malicious—“we have no need for you.”

  The rings around each of us, student and instructor alike, trembled. Surely Woong-ji and Sung-ki could hold off Ena while we escaped, but we knew the power of a Grandmaster extended beyond our reach. We had battled Min-hwan enough times to know we were outmatched by someone of his caliber. Still, even if we escaped Ena, was the whole school in on this? We couldn’t possibly hope to get very far or complete our mission if we didn’t cooperate.

  She pulled her foot back up under herself and adjusted her posture neatly. “Now, as Genta and Kotomi have asked each of your students many times, what is your plan?”

  The rings below us shook and shriveled, fear poisoning our mood. There was no spell we could cast without being detected, nothing we could do to obscure our intentions. We didn’t know enough about Ribatasan to be discussing our mission, and I certainly hadn’t been kept informed of any deals we’d made to help them.

  “Well?” Ena demanded when no one spoke.

  Darkness gathered about her like a storm cloud on the horizon. She seemed to grow in her seat, towering over us. “We will not be denied our revolution. You will aid us, or you will be disposed of.”

  “We didn’t meet with our informant and can’t confirm your identity. We can share no other details,” Sung-ki said, shaking his head.

  Ena disappeared from the chair in a blink and wind whooshed past me. She held Sung-ki by the throat with a massive hand, her body size clearly distorted. She whispered, just barely audible to me. “Are you here to aid us or not?”

  “Protocol wasn’t followed,” Sung-ki managed to gasp, his face turning red.

  “Cooperate. It’ll be easy to hide your body and spin a convincing tale of your demise.” Ena squeezed harder as we looked on. Woong-ji’s rings pulsed quickly, and the floor below her changed to a golden orange.

  Ena’s other hand lashed out in a blur, batting my master across the room. I jumped to my feet only to have them swept out from under me. I hit the solid wood face first, and gravity pressed onto me. I pushed into my hands to get them under me, but the weight intensified, slowly crushing my bones. I gritted my teeth against the pressure that forced the air from my lungs.

  “We need the picture,” I blurted with the last of my breath.

  All at once, the weight released, and I gasped. Ena pulled me upright—slowly, gently—then set me on the ground.

  Hana was pinned to the floor as I had been, but the pressure didn’t appear to be crushing her. Genta had Yuri by the hair, pressing her forehead to the ground, and Cho sat wide-eyed in horror. Shin-soo looked calmest of all, perhaps even enjoying the theatrics. Ko-nah stood to the side, the rings below his feet shaking in fear.

  “What picture?” Ena asked with a sickening sweetness.

  I took a moment to catch my breath, my brain and Mae’s working a million nodes a second to unscramble the information slamming around in my skull and form it into a careful truth.

  I pointed to Ko-nah. “I asked him for the picture that was taken at the port. We need it. Without it, we can’t discuss any plan, because there isn’t one.”

  She chuckled softly. “Indulge me?”

  “I’d rather keep my head in the event you trade us in to curry favor with the regime—new or old,” I said, taking a gamble on what all her words had meant.

  Ena smirked and turned away. “I already have plenty of that. Yamamotto-sama and I are good friends.”

  The blood drained from my face, and I thanked my luck her back was turned. I had no idea we’d be so close to danger at the school. If she and Dokun truly were working closely together, we would have to be much more careful about what we said on the grounds.

  “Get us the picture, then we’ll discuss our plan. Not a moment sooner,” I said firmly, though the rings around me were barely visible from their rapid vibration.

  Ena laughed loudly and spun on her heel. She looked to my instructors and crossed her arms and sneered. “What a phenomenal Tsaitsa you’re training.”

  My brow furrowed as I looked to Woong-ji, who’d gained her feet and was nursing a bloody lip. “He’s not always the brightest,” she said, glaring at me.

  ‘What is that?’ I asked, hoping Mae would have a translation somewhere.

  “Like a successor, I think,” Mae answered.

  This playful deprecation masked my master’s approval. I had done well, despite my inability to lie effectively. Skirting the truth had always been easier and rarely got me in trouble. It certainly had served us now.

  “Genta,” Ena commanded, and he was at her side in an instant. “Report back, tell of our delay, then escort Ko-nah—” she said his name with disgust—“to retrieve whatever Jiyong has asked for.” She looked to me. “I look forward to hearing your plan.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.” I bowed to the floor, and when my forehead made contact, I felt connection to a web of highways with blazing data. Flashes of images from each screen infiltrated my mind’s eye, and I winced. Sound from all over the school echoed in my ears, and I swallowed back bile.

  ‘Mae, this isn’t the time for practice!’ I admonished.

  “It’s not me! Step back, Jiyong.”

  I breathed slowly and tried to narrow the information running through my head. With a snap, I felt myself drift away from the web. Back I moved until I saw the whole pagoda with neon lights running through the structure, straight to this room, and then through the ground to somewhere else.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me up. The vision of the lit-up pagoda disappeared just as quickly as it’d come, and I was staring Ena in the face.

  “Return to your rooms for tonight, and your pre-determined schedules tomorrow. And remember,” Ena said, then gestured to the wall of screens. “I’ll be watching.”

  Chapter 18

  WE RETURNED TO OUR rooms silent and trembling. How was I going to build a plan with the others? How could we all have the same correct details when next Ena cornered us? Should we try to escape and complete the mission outside of Moon Shadow’s bounds?

  There were so many questions my head was spinning. I sat down on my bedroll, stomach empty and twisted with anxiety. Ko-nah looked at me with stoic eyes, his lips pressed to a thin line. So unlike his typically expressive, albeit lying, persona. My hypothesis had been correct, though. Ko-nah was disdained by everyone. He’d forsaken his country to save his mother, and earned enemies across the kingdoms.

  I sat back and looked up at the ceiling, my eyes slowly roving over each board, each crack and crevasse, searching for the display input that fed Ena’s Watchful Wall. I couldn’t detect anything like what’d I’d sensed in her control room. There was no way into the system from here.

  I turned my attention back to the bigger looming issue: how to deal with Ena, what to do with Ko-nah, and how to get everything we came for without losing our heads. The task before me felt too big, especially without being able to discuss it with my friends, and more so with Shin-soo at my throat. When would he pounce again?

  There was a knock at the door, and Cho practically leapt to his feet to answer it. I sat up, my nerves just as jittery, but somehow I kept my breathing and heart rate calm. Cho opened the door and Sung-ki stepped in.

  He gave each student a glance in turn, then rested on me. “Our first cultural immersion trip is tomorrow, and I didn’t want you to be tired.”

  He held out five mirror reflective vials. At the sight of it, I felt need at the back of my mind and a hungry voice whispered, bliss
ful void, take me. I kept my hands laced together in my lap. I knew the dangers of addiction, not as well as some, but I didn’t want to develop an unhealthy relationship with this draught.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, waving the offer away despite my desire of it.

  “I insist,” Sung-ki said, and something about the way he said it made me think there was more to it than just a simple Sleep Draught.

  Cho grabbed two and brought me one. I took the vial and examined it. There would be no way to tell what was in it until I consumed it.

  “Boys?” Sung-ki held out the other three to Ko-nah, Genta, and Shin-soo.

  “Alchemy is for the weak,” Genta said dismissively.

  Ko-nah took a vial and dipped his head to the instructor. Shin-soo crossed his arms, looking to the darkened sky outside our slatted window.

  “Shin-soo, you need proper sleep,” Sung-ki said with emphasis, and I could tell that there was something else afoot with this potion.

  Shin-soo didn’t look at our instructor. “I’ll be fine.”

  Sung-ki crossed the room and stood over his student. “As your guardian on this trip, I must insist.”

  “You can’t make me take anything,” he replied stubbornly.

  Sung-ki sighed. “Fine. Don’t complain to me tomorrow when you’re exhausted.”

  The instructor left us without another word, closing the door a little harder than necessary. Shin-soo was still a child, acting on a child’s emotions.

  I didn’t wait for exhaustion to take me or for the lights in the room to dim. I uncorked the vial and tilted it back, drinking all the contents. I winced at the chalky flavor, but it wasn’t exactly the same as the first.

  ‘Mae, can you identify this?’ I asked, swallowing the liquid.

  “Composition is only eighty percent Sleep Draught, twenty percent something unknown—wait a moment.” She went silent as my eyelids drooped. “Detecting nanite configurations similar to that of the connection Se-nim created between you and the others at the farm.” Mae’s voice was growing distant. I laid my head back and let my breathing take on a natural sleep rhythm.