by A. K. Wilder
“Brush?” Kaylin toasts me with his mug.
“I’m trying to avoid words like ‘massacre.’”
Ash’s eyes go wide. “Are you saying for me not to record it?”
“I’m saying we need to be on guard with the savants here, Yuki included.” I look to Kaylin for help.
“I think he’s right, at least until we know who to trust,” Kaylin says.
Funny, coming from him.
“Then what will we tell Yuki?” Ash looks unconvinced. “The alliance with Gollnar and Aturnia needs to be reported, even if those scouts were mercenaries. Your wounds and poor condition must be explained, too. Belair took an arrow, you a knife to the chest, all the bruising… I won’t lie.”
“I’m not asking you to. We say that we were put off at Clearwater, got lost in the woods, went the long way around, and had a mishap on the Ferus River. All true.”
Kaylin snorts. “A mishap? That’s even better than ‘brush.’”
I manage to laugh with him. “We can say we slipped past an encampment sporting multiple realm flags. But we don’t mention the details, including the theft at the Capper Point sheep farm. Not yet.”
“We’re going to compensate the farmer,” Ash reminds me. She folds her hands together and closes her eyes, a habit she has when thinking deeply.
Kaylin’s about to speak, and I signal him to wait.
Moments later, her eyes pop open and she gives us a nod. “For now, we say we evaded them, which is true. No one has access to what I’m recording, not even the High Savant, until I hand it all over for her seal at the end.” She levels her gaze on mine. “I won’t fabricate the records, Marcus, but this will give us time to get to the bottom of the Northern Aturnian mystery.” She narrows her eyes at the window. “And my tapping shadow.”
I rub my forehead to cover the cringe. “So, you will put everything in the records?”
Her eyes come back gleaming, and I know that look, too.
“Are you kidding? The most chac’n nang perilous initiation journey in the history of the realms and I’m the recorder. You bet your life it’s all going in.”
33
Marcus
Yuki’s reception room is larger than Brogal’s, with wide east-facing windows overlooking a landscaped garden. The morning sun blasts in, and I drop my eyes to the floor, studying the knotty hardwood. I quickly correct my bad posture, straightening up, eyes forward to show respect, not that it matters. Yuki isn’t paying attention to me in the slightest.
Belair stands on my right and Ash on the left. Kaylin’s not here, and I actually miss his ability to make the ridiculous sound plausible. But again, it doesn’t matter. The High Savant of Aku, a mature woman, both graceful and attractive, with golden skin and silver hair woven into a braid that falls past her waist, is completely preoccupied. With what—who knows? I’m ready with my rehearsed explanation for the raising of our phantoms and obvious wounds, but her mind seems realms away.
Meanwhile, Ash weaves a riveting story—one that has no mention of black sails, marauders, or our capture by Gollnars in league with an Aturnian horde. It does speak the truth, though, which means Father and the Tangeen Magistrate will be informed of the unexpected alliance of realms. The story also tells of our evasion and tumble over the falls.
She’s a wordsmith, De’ral reminds me.
“A very good one.”
But Yuki appears bored. While Ash talks, the High Savant’s eyes remain on a scroll. Every so often she ticks something off that may or may not have anything to do with us. Beside her is a phantom that looks like a pyramid of rocks. It has no face but breathes, occasionally tilting its “head” or whatever that is that sits on top. A few pebbles roll down its side and spill across the floor toward Ash’s foot.
She shoos them back and they retreat, but Yuki doesn’t notice that odd exchange, either.
When Ash’s narrative ends, the High Savant lifts her gaze. “And you came by ship from Toretta to Capper Point?”
The muscles in my neck cord. Is she not listening at all?
Ash stays serene and repeats herself, as if it were the first time. “The captain insisted we disembark at Clearwater, Mistress. But we had a guide with us, otherwise, I doubt we would have escaped the dangers on the road, made it through the woods, and down the river.”
“Oh, yes, your guide. Kaylin, is it?” Yuki’s face brightens for the first time since we walked through the door.
I frown. Bored with us, but the sailor sparks her interest?
“Kaylin’s—”
“A remarkable young man.” Yuki beams and her phantom quivers.
I clench my fists then force them to relax. How did Kaylin gain an audience before we did? And why?
“I met him in the kitchens at dawn.” It’s as if she heard my query. “I love a man who rises before the sun.”
“Belair and I are up at dawn, ready to—”
“He’s brought in quite a catch today. We’ll be having trevally at my table tonight.” Her expression is almost whimsical and the phantom hums. “Poached in coconut milk and cilantro, the traditional way of his mother’s people in the islands.”
Well, if Kaylin’s made such a stellar first impression, maybe he’ll put in a good word for us.
“Please, continue.” Yuki waves at Ash. “From Clearwater you hired another ship…” Her eyes go back to the scroll.
I keep the groan from escaping my throat. Mother of all Bone Throwers, will she pay attention?
“Not another ship, Mistress.” Ash describes again how we disembarked at Clearwater, moved the horses down the ramp, sought the apothecary. “From Clearwater we went through the woods, diverted to Mount Bladon to avoid a large troop of Northern Aturnians. Our travel documents were in order, but Marcus deemed it best to err on the side of caution.”
Yuki glances at me for a moment, her expression doubtful. I’m counting the moments until this interview is over and we can get out on the training field. There’s so much to catch up on. I understand now my father’s impatience. If war is imminent, we must prepare, but not provoke.
Ash continues to regale Yuki with our journey. “Then it was straight down the Ferus River and on to Capper Point…”
Yuki’s head lifts toward Ash, and the scroll she was studying so intently falls from her hand. It moves in slow motion, tumbling end over end until it hits the floor. Her phantom undulates in and out of various forms, and Yuki holds up her hand to stop even my breath. “What did you say?” Her eyes turn from Ash to Belair, to me.
I clear my throat. “It was a roundabout way to arrive, I know—”
“Say the route!” Her phantom fragments, large rocks falling down its sides only to reform again at the top.
My scalp prickles. Now that I have the High Savant’s full attention, I wish she would go back to ignoring us. “It was through the woods to Mount Bladon, and down the Ferus River, Mistress. We survived the falls but lost our horses and gear. We hiked to Capper Point in the night, hired a sloop, and arrived at the docks of Aku after the first bell. We ran like fiends to make the gate.”
Yuki says nothing, her brow creased as she studies each of us again.
When I can’t stand the silence any longer, I add, “We had less than a second to spare.”
“Over the falls?” the High Savant says. “All of you?”
We’re back to this again?
“All but Belair, High Savant,” Ash speaks up as I nod. “The rest of us were swept away.”
“Sank like stones, I’m afraid.” Suddenly I want her to smile again, talk about Kaylin’s fishing, anything else. “Only Ash and Belair can swim. And Kaylin, of course.”
“But I was injured.” Belair finds his voice in the void. “Kaylin got me to the banks, and I hiked down.”
“But Marcus? You actually went over the falls?”
Wait, what? My mouth opens to speak but attendants come to escort us out.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I say as the door closes behind us. Words she doesn’t hear. When we reach the tree-lined boulevard, we stop.
“What just happened?” Ash’s eyes are round.
“The mention of the Ferus River Falls caused quite a reaction.” I keep my voice low.
“Strangest interview I’ve ever had.” Belair stares toward the field, bouncing on his toes. “And now we’re late for training.”
“You go. I’ll catch up.” I turn to Ash. “You were perfect in there.”
“I was—” Ash stops talking while a group of local, Aku blue-robes approach. Their instructor, a yellow-robe savant with a phantom like a sheepdog, is herding them along. When they are out of range, she continues. “I thought I would be backed into a corner, but she didn’t ask for a single detail, except for the route and the Falls.” Ash pushes hair out of her face and reties her ponytail. It stays in for once. “Is this her normal manner? Are we making too much of it?” She stops in front of the library. “Maybe she’s like this all the time.”
“Disinterested, abrupt, panicky? I don’t think so.” I give her a quick hug. “We’ll talk about it later. I have training.”
“You don’t want me on the field after warm up?”
I shrug one shoulder. “They won’t ask for much on my first day.”
“I don’t know, Marcus. It might be straight into it. The other recorders—”
“Give us a day to orient before you scrutinize our every move.” My cheek quivers when I try to smile.
“Sounds good.” Ash smooths the cowl of my robe and heads up the steps. “Luck of the bones be with you.” She waves.
I wave back, but a cloud comes over me when I think of Yuki and the look on her face. For a moment, I could swear she was terrified, but by what?
34
Marcus
I exhale puffs of air as I run to the training field. Is there hope of getting there in time? I have to weave around spectators, jumping every so often to see over their heads and across the field. Students cluster in small groups, but I can’t tell which instructor is Zarah. She’s the orange-robe we’re meant to report to. I search for Belair and his bright red locks. And Destan. He said he was with Zarah, too. But I don’t spot either of them.
I stop to gape at two raptor phantoms in aerial combat. They dive and spiral, fighting hard, until one plummets to the ground. I shoulder my way to the edge of the field, dodging a free-for-all wrestling match, then jog past a group of sweet-voiced callers.
“Belair!” There he is. I sprint, feeling much stronger than last night.
The closer I get, the more I can tell Belair is struggling. The orange-robe instructor fires orders while the Tangeen tries to comply. Tries and… fails. He’s doing push-ups while his phantom leaps over him but he ends up flat on his face after only a few. His vivid red hair hangs lank with sweat. The leopard pants, tongue nearly on the ground.
“Back into line!” Zarah shouts. She’s one of the finest warrior savants on Aku and hard as Northern Aturnian granite, everyone says. Seems they’re right.
I shoot Belair a compassionate look and turn to Zarah, ready to introduce myself. She doesn’t give me the chance.
“And here is Marcus Adicio of Baiseen.” All heads turn to me.
“Yes, Mistress.” I know the tone she is taking. My father’s quite fond of it. Brogal, too. “I can explain my tardiness.”
While she studies me, her ropy, muscled warrior phantom with a keen blade and skin as deep brown as her own looks on. “Sleep in, did you?”
“No. I—”
“Don’t want to hear it.” Zarah rests her hands on her hips as spirals of black and gray hair sway across her shoulders. “You’ll be told this once only, so listen well. On the Isle of Aku, field training begins at third bell. You either be here on time, or I get a message from the infirmary saying you’re stone-cold dead. There are no other options.”
“Uh…yes, Mistress.”
“Seeing as you don’t appear dead, you’ve nothing to say.”
I stifle my next reply.
“Don’t stand there, green-robe. Show us what you’ve got!”
I hesitate, heat reaching my cheeks. Her reference to the color of my robe is not complimentary. I can hardly believe my ears.
“Did you hear me? Raise. Your. Phantom!”
Straight into it, then. All right. I take a deep breath before dropping gracefully to one knee and then the other. I sit on the heels of my sandaled feet, straighten my robe in neat, pleated folds around me, and lace my hands in my lap. After a few deep breaths, I let my eyelids float shut.
“Stop!” Zarah jolts me with a shriek. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Preparing to raise my phantom, Mistress.” Isn’t it obvious?
Some of the students laugh and she silences them with a look. “And where did you learn to do that?”
“In the Sanctuary of Baiseen, Mistress.” My chin lifts as I enunciate my home city. “The High Savant Brogal has us—” She cuts me off and I see my mistake too late.
“So, you do it that way in Baiseen, do you? Master Brogal knows best when it comes to warriors?”
I start to sweat. “Um…”
“Let me tell you something. He doesn’t.” She takes a breath. “And how do I know he doesn’t? I trained by his side at our initiation rites, so many years ago. Do you know what they called him then?”
I have a feeling I don’t want to hear this. “No, Mistress.”
“Baiseen.” Her mouth twists like she just licked the bottom of a stable hand’s boot. “And he was called that until he could finally…” Her expression softens for an instant. “Never mind, Baiseen.” The twisted face is back.
My nostrils flare. She dares to malign Palrio’s capital city, the seat of my throne? “Mistress, I assure you, I meant—”
“I know what you meant but answer me this.” She directs her question to the entire group. “In a real battle, how much time will you have to place yourself thus on the ground, making everything just so before you coax your phantom up?”
I bite my lower lip, my mind going back to the last time I raised my phantom—bound and battered at the bottom of a cliff. “In a real battle situation, none.”
“Congratulations, Baiseen. You’ve given your first correct response of the day. We can only hope there will be more to follow. Observe.” She holds out her hands and her phantom returns the sword with a bow.
The entire group scurries back. Even the recorders pick up their writing boards and retreat, leaving me alone at the front. I’m still sitting on my heels when Mistress Zarah takes a step forward and dips briefly so one knee touches the ground. Instantly, her phantom melts into the earth and she darts ten paces away in a blink.
“This is how you raise a warrior.” Without another word, she leaps into the air, lets loose a battle cry, and comes down hard on both knees, skidding along the grass. The moment she contacts the ground her phantom erupts in front of her—a fountain of dirt and rocks exploding. Zarah unsheathes her twin blades and flips them, hilts held high. The phantom shoots up, somersaults, grabs the weapons, and continues the war cry in a deep, guttural tone. Before Zarah skids to a halt, she is back on her feet and running straight for me.
It takes all my strength not to flinch.
Zarah stops just short of plowing me under. She has a knife to my throat, and her
phantom’s swords are at my back. De’ral surges, making my head pound.
“Now, Baiseen,” she says. “Your turn.”
The phantom behind me steps back, and so does Zarah. They must have heard about the size of my warrior. I smile to myself. “We’ll show them.” I prepare mentally, without the props of position or meditation.
“Now!” Zarah shouts.
“Be ready,” I say to De’ral.
And jump because that spindly phantom’s savant says so?
My gut tightens. “No, jump because I say so. Please?”
I sprint several lengths away, turn and leap into the air. My war cry comes out a little high-pitched and strained to my ears, but I carry on, letting go my thoughts as I fall to my knees. I thud hard into the closely cropped grass and close my eyes. Nothing happens.
“Damn the bones, De’ral. Rise!”
“Does he have a phantom?” Someone from the group calls.
“Hand him a rope and he can haul it up,” says another.
“Too weak to break through the ground?” a girl mocks.
I grind my teeth.
“Let it out,” Zarah says evenly. “A timely fashion is preferable.” Her words cut deep but the tone is actually supportive.
As my emotions well, the ground shakes.
“Eyes open,” Zarah says. “You have to see the thing to control it.”
I open my eyes as the ground rips apart. The group presses closer, all but Belair and his leopard. As the cracks lengthen, the faces of the students change. The teasing expressions turn to awe as a giant fist punches through the earth. They recede like a wave, and De’ral pulls himself up. He shakes like a wet dog, dirt flying, and stands to his full height, taller by three times anything on the field. Suddenly, Belair has company along the far edge of the grass.
“Stand up,” Zarah shouts. As I gain my feet, she darts in and whispers, “You be ready to bring that monster to ground or my phantom will knock you unconscious, understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“What’s everyone waiting for?” she hollers to the others. “Second lap, at the run.”
