by S. T. Bende
“I had to go dark for a while. We were being tracked pretty hard.” Viggo shrugged as if being parent-and-Protektor-less in Svartalfheim was no big deal. Maybe to him, it wasn’t.
“We’re lucky you were able to find your way when we sent the evacuation code.”
“Erik passed his communicator to me before he was killed. By then it was pretty badly damaged.” Viggo tapped the device on his wrist. It was considerably more worn than my day-old version. “It took me a while to figure out what your code meant.”
“I’m just glad you made it.” Signy placed a hand on Viggo’s arm. “Your parents and Protektor were champions of the light. If I can help you in any way, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks. But I’m here now, so let’s get to work.” He shot me a wink that sent the butterflies pinging between my back and my belly.
I exhaled forcibly. “What do you want us to do, Signy—eh, Professor?”
“Square off and execute a basic attack sequence,” Signy instructed. “Omicron formation, with Aura taking offensive. Do you both know that choreography?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, at the same time Viggo smirked and said, “Of course.”
“Excellent. In three.” Signy counted down. “Two. One.”
I threw myself at Viggo. He ducked to his right, and I fell flat on my face. The smattering of laughter from behind let me know the other Verge were watching.
Awesome.
I scrambled to my feet and walked in a slow arc. Viggo mirrored my movements, apparently waiting for me to strike. I pulled my left arm back to distract him and swung my right foot in a low circle. It connected with his ankle and swept his feet out from beneath him in one, quick movement. Score one, Aura.
Viggo lay on the ground, amusement in his clear green eyes. He arched his back and leapt to his feet, then charged at me with a series of punches. I blocked the first three, and on the fourth, grabbed his fist and used his weight to launch him over my shoulder. He landed hard, his back slapping loudly against the firm mat. There was a smattering of applause from the rest of the Verge. They’re rooting for me over Key Boy? Thank you, sisterhood! And brotherhood? I peeked over my shoulder, and sure enough the two guys were clapping for me too. Yes!
Viggo jumped back on his feet, his eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” He pointed a finger at the shiny threads of the A.A. on my shirt. “Glitre, you’re extra sparkly today.”
“If you think getting your butt handed to you by a girl is fun, then bring it.”
Viggo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I will.”
I ground my teeth again and aimed a right hook at Viggo’s face. He threw up his forearm and wrenched my arm to my waist, then spun me around. With one arm, he pinned my back against his chest. With the other, he pressed hard against my neck. One of the watching Verge let out a groan at my apparent defeat.
“Professor Bergen,” Viggo called. “I believe this is a check.”
I stomped hard on my captor’s instep and threw an elbow behind me. The jab landed just below Viggo’s sternum, and the whoosh of air left his chest as he leaned forward. I took advantage of the slack in his arms and turned, ducking out of Viggo’s grip. While he was still doubled over I unleashed a front kick that knocked him onto the ground, then straddled him and pressed his neck with my forearm. The nearby Verge cheered loudly.
“I believe that is a checkmate.” I grinned. “I win.”
Viggo gripped my knees with large hands and lifted me easily off his chest. I wrenched my body to the side, but he quickly rolled so he was on top of me. Despite my ardent struggle, he pinned me easily.
“No, Glitre. That’s a checkmate.” He winked. I glared. The rest of the Verge applauded our match.
“Two out of three,” I offered.
“That won’t be necessary.” Signy made a mark on her clipboard.
“Students, back to work. All of you,” Headmistress Herliefer ordered. The Verge called out to each other as they returned to their workouts.
Signy turned to me and Viggo. “Nicely done. Headmistress Herliefer wanted to see how disparate your skills were, to evaluate how to shuffle training partners. But seeing as you’re equally matched in hand to hand. . .”
Oh, no. NO.
“We’ll evaluate you on additional apparatus, but barring any unforeseen imbalance, it looks like the two of you will be well matched training partners.” Signy beamed at me.
“Aren’t you the lucky one.” Viggo reached down to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear.
“Get off of me,” I grumbled.
Viggo raised an eyebrow. As he rose, a rush of air escaped my chest. He held out a hand, and I grudgingly allowed him to help me stand. I ignored the fluttering in my stomach and the nudge at my back as he wrapped his large hand around my smaller one.
What is wrong with me?
A blast of Herliefer’s whistle signaled it was time to switch stations. Despite my very best efforts, Viggo and I possessed equal skill on the climbing apparatus, bars, horse, and in weapons. At the end of the three-hour class my palms had blisters, my clothes were soaked with sweat, and every muscle in my body throbbed. But I’d held my own against Viggo; proven myself the equal of the first male Key in centuries, and a few times bested the guy who’d apparently grown up fending for himself in the dark realm. Plus, my classmates had cheered for me—something that had never once happened at Granite High.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d been bequeathed the world’s most irritating training partner, with whom I was to work out incessantly until graduation, it would have been a glorious day.
“Settle into your sacred inner space and root your energy to the center of the realm. Imagine the Alfheim Tree enveloping you in its timeless, mystical branches, then anchoring you down, down, down to the core of Alfheim. Good. Does everyone feel well and truly grounded?”
I was ninety minutes into my afternoon meditation lab, where Professor Asling wove her way through the dozen students meditating atop thick velvet pillows. Although my eyes were squeezed firmly shut as per her instructions, the multitude of jingling bangles kept me apprised of the professor’s whereabouts. I bit down on my bottom lip and tried to picture tree roots snaking through the layers of soil, rock, and sediment, knowing fully well that no amount of imagining would put me on par with the other students. My classmates were light years ahead of me. And despite Signy’s valiant efforts to Zen me out, mindfulness had never been my forte.
This class was going to be my undoing.
“Aura, dear.” Professor Asling’s cool hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “You’ve hardly got any grounding cord at all. Try envisioning a copper tube enveloping your body and tunneling all the way to the center of the realm. Ah, there it is. Oops. There it went.”
I ground my teeth together and willed tube envelopment. I’d been a decent student at Granite High, and things had been going so well in my Verge class this morning. It seriously sucked to be the class idiot here.
“Once your grounding is well established, I want you to focus on each of the seven centers that run from the base of your spine to your head. Clear out all energies that no longer serve you.” Professor Asling’s bejeweled fingernails clicked together, possibly flicking away unseen energy. Though for all I knew, she was texting her lunch order to the dining staff. It was hard to tell what was happening with my eyes squeezed shut and my consciousness focused on an invisible room somewhere inside of my head.
I so hated meditating.
“Begin with the first center, your grounding center,” Professor Asling purred. “Now move up to your second, and just observe the duality within before visiting your third—own your personal power in this class, this school, this realm. Very good. Now move to your fourth—oh, your hearts shine so beautifully, girls.” Professor Asling clucked her tongue approvingly. “Now your fifth—your throat center is your voice in the world. Fully embody it at all times. Now your sixth—your third, inner eye. A
nd finally, your seventh—your spirit’s portal to your body.
Because that made sense.
“Now, with your centers clear, I want you to sense the boundary at the edge of your space—the protective bubble that surrounds you. Your aura.” Professor Asling’s nails flicked again. “Do you feel it, Imogen?”
“I do, Professor!” The sprightly student to my right sounded incredibly pleased with herself. I scrunched my face up and tried harder. The pressure building behind my eyes wasn’t helping.
“Who else can feel their aura? That slightly buoyant energy all around you that weeds out unwanted energies and protects against assault from the outside world? Sora, what does yours feel like? Go ahead, hold up your hands and touch it.”
The security of our entire realm was at risk, and we were supposed to pat an invisible energy bubble?
“It feels . . .” The girl in front of me paused. “Like a porous cloud.”
“Mine feels like a warm river,” offered a girl to my left. “One with luminescent particles that ping against my touch.”
I felt a big fat zip. It was ironic, really.
“Well done, ladies,” Professor Asling approved. “Today I’m going to teach you how to expand and contract that aura. To enlarge it, simply strengthen your grounding cord and retreat to your sacred inner space. Draw energy from the realm through your feet, and intend that your aura expand. Some students find it useful to bring their hands into their navel, drawing power into their center, before turning their palms away and pushing their energy outward. Go ahead and try this now.”
Here goes nothing.
I followed the directions to the best of my ability, but given that I barely felt my grounding cord, and I most definitely did not feel my inner space, it was a futile exercise.
Professor Asling whispered in my ear. “May I assist you?”
“Please,” I muttered.
“I will hold your grounding for you. You just have to focus on expansion. Can you do that?”
Probably not. But I nodded, with my eyes still squeezed shut.
“Go ahead, Aura.”
With Professor Asling’s fingernails once again flicking, I imagined myself sitting inside a big balloon. I exhaled slowly, willing the balloon to grow.
“Aura! Very good work. You have a propensity for protection. The thickening in your aura is so tangible, its expansion very nearly overtakes—ah, how fleeting. It has gone.” With a delicate pat on my shoulder, my teacher leaned down to whisper again. “That was progress. Continue in that vein, and you may catch up to your classmates.”
Professor Asling moved on to the next student and I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, stopping the dull throb from overtaking my senses. When I opened my lids, Professor Asling stood beside the student to my right. Her expression was considerably more joyful than the one she’d probably had while teaching me.
“Very good, Svarri.” Professor Asling clapped her hands together. “Imogen, did you feel her press against your space? Had she encased you, her aura would have served as a double protection—guarding both herself and you against unwanted intrusions. This is a time-honored practice of our energetic warriors, who fight not with swords and arrows, but with energetic blows. Those with the gift of protecting not only themselves, but also their sisters and brothers in arms, are commended with the highest of honors.”
Alfheim had energetic warriors? Like, wizards? Was that what my hands had done to that deer back home? Why had they gone completely dormant since I’d arrived on Alfheim?
How was I this behind on my first day?
“I do hope you will continue your practice, Svarri. Shielding another is a tremendous skill to master,” Professor Asling praised.
“Oh, I will, Professor,” Svarri chirped. Showoff.
“Through proper management of energy, each of you can become invincible.”
Signy had been preaching that one for years. Maybe she’d had Professor Asling when she was at the academy, too.
“Your homework is to work on your protections. Your aura is your buffer against the world. Strengthen it, and you strengthen yourself. Make it impenetrable, and no energetic harm can come to you.”
Professor Asling’s bracelets tinkled as she held her hands out to her sides, pushing up and down against some invisible barrier. With her long robes, flowered headdress, and peculiar hand motions, she could have been the love child of a hippie and a mime. I quickly closed my eyes as she moved toward the front of the room.
“And now,” Professor Asling continued. “We will bring this meditation to a close and move on to discussion. Intend that your aura protect you throughout the sun cycle. Intend that you remain grounded as we discuss the trying era that has dawned on our realm. And give yourselves a loving hug, thanking your spirit for participating so fully in today’s lab.”
All around me I heard the murmurs of students thanking their spirits. I opened my eyes to their sanguine expressions and wondered if I would ever get any better at this Empati thing. Asling made Signy’s seemingly impossible meditation classes look like a walk in the park.
I tentatively raised my hand.
“Yes, my butterfly?” Professor Asling turned to me.
“What we’re doing . . . this whole energy thing. Is this what the Midgardians call magic?”
“In a way,” Professor Asling mused. “Magic—true magic—is simply a manipulation of energy. Today you’re learning to block—to create a shield around you. As you advance through your practice, you’ll learn to debilitate. A strike to the base will destabilize power, one to the mind can block mental awareness, or visual acuity.”
“My aunt can do that,” I remembered. “She told me during our lessons back home. Is that a Protektor skill?”
“Only in a handful of cases,” Professor Asling said. “Most Protektors come from the Verge discipline, while energy manipulation is usually limited to our Empati. It is the rare warrior who can do both.”
Go, Signy!
“I understand that you are also learning both disciplines,” Professor Asling offered.
“Yeah, but . . . I’m a lot better at one than the other.”
“You will learn,” Professor Asling said gently. “And you may just find that you are in a unique position to better our realm.”
The way my grandmother was running things, I’d better be.
Chapter 10
“NOW, MOVE YOUR PILLOWS into a circle. Leave no gaps. For this exercise, it is imperative that we create a sacred ring of healing.” Professor Asling waved her hands, and my classmates calmly shifted positions. Once we sat in the round, she gave an approving nod before crossing the room. She glanced into the hall, toward the long, spiral staircase that led to the base of the tower, before gently closing the door. The soft click echoed through the classroom.
“I wish to impart that no matter what else is happening in our realm, this is a safe space for each of you.” Professor Asling dropped onto an empty pillow and joined us in our circle. “I know that some of you have seen alarming actions from our government. I am saddened to know that more will come, given the anxiety the theft of the Sterkvart has created amongst our fear-guided leaders. It is cause for concern in all of us,” she conceded. “The crystal is of vital importance to our realm. But so are each of you. And I know many of your families are suffering.” Our teacher turned to me. “Until recently, our citizens have lived in tight-knit communities—some metropolitan and diverse, others rural and sorted according to the calling of their residents—meadow elves, water elves, resource gatherers.”
I nodded. That much I knew.
“But as the Kongelig rose in power, the government seized control and forced citizens to perform work with no pay, in the name of service to the realm. The resource gathering communities, for example, have been forced to harvest so extensively that entire ecosystems have died. Alfheim itself is a living organism, and as portions of the realm expire, the realm itself suffers irreparable harm. This, coupled with t
he fear that has overtaken our world, undermines the very purpose of the realm—to spread light and love through the cosmos.”
All around, students wrung their hands together. What have they seen?
Professor Asling’s kind eyes scanned our group. “Would anyone care to unburden their experiences?”
Svarri raised a tentative hand.
“Yes, butterfly?”
“I got a letter from my sister yesterday—our grandparents were taken to the mining camp.” Svarri drew a ragged breath. “Sirra heard Minister Narrik’s men enter our home during the night, but our grandmother told her to hide—if they took her too, nobody would be left to look after my brothers.”
A lead ball hardened in my gut.
“Oh, Svarri.” A blond girl reached over to place a hand on Svarri’s knee. “Can they come stay at the school with us?”
“The board says they’re too young. When they’re old enough for enrollment, if they’re deemed useful enough to earn a spot, then maybe.” Svarri’s lower lip quivered.
“What’s the mining camp?” I asked. Every head in the room turned to look at me. “Sorry. There’s still a lot I don’t know.”
“It’s all right, dear. Let me show you.” Professor Asling tapped the device on her wrist, activating the hologram. It hovered over her hand as she drew it out with her fingertips, expanding its scope until it formed a screen that stretched the length of the smartboard. She tapped the screen, and workers appeared in the image. Some dragged loads that looked much too large for their weary frames, while others drove axes into unyielding stone walls. Every single one of them looked exhausted. Haggard. Completely devoid of hope.
Behind the workers stood uniformed guards, each with a weapon in hand. My stomach churned at the sight of an old woman, her hands on her knees as she gave in to a violent coughing fit. She covered her mouth as one of the guards approached, electric prod raised. The woman rose unsteadily, her back hunched from age or exhaustion—or both—and resumed funneling a beam of light from her palm to the rock, until a large chunk splintered to the ground. A piece landed on her foot and though she dropped to a knee, she quickly resumed her task.
