The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1)

by David F. Farris

  Later that night, Bryson and Debo were sitting at the dining table with a generous portion of steak and lobster on their plates. The tableware was nothing fancy. Actually, it was very plain for a household that belonged to someone of Debo’s stature. Despite it being past sunset, the window that nearly covered the entire side wall was open, allowing the approaching autumn air to cool down the dining room. And to make the moment even better, Bryson could taste the juices in the meat. He wasn’t biting into charcoal, unusual for one of Debo’s steaks.

  “Cheers. Your cooking is actually decent this time,” Bryson said as he shoved another bite into his mouth.

  Debo raised an eyebrow. “I guess that’s a compliment. Thank you.”

  “Not quite.”

  Debo stared intently at Bryson as he ate for several more seconds before he said, “So, about today.”

  “You mean when I collapsed?” Bryson asked through a mouthful of lobster.

  “Yes, when you collapsed. Same dream as usual?”

  “Since when has it been anything else? I haven’t had the nightmare since I was young.” Bryson pushed his plate away from him, leaned back in the chair, and belched. “That was satisfying,” he said with a grin.

  “This was the first time it happened while you were awake?”

  “Well, you’re a straight shooter tonight. You don’t want to talk around in circles for a bit first?”

  “No.”

  “Shame.” Bryson sighed. “Yes, it was the first time.”

  Debo was playing with one of his ear piercings. “Interesting. I wonder what drew it out during such a time.”

  “No clue.”

  Debo tapped his fingers on the table. “Well, your dream occurs in the outskirts of Phesaw’s campus, looking down at it. When you collapsed today, you were in Phesaw. The school could be a connection.”

  “Any guesses beyond that?” Bryson asked.

  “I think this is where I fail you,” Debo said as he got up to start clearing the table. “I guess I’m a poor excuse for an Intel Director.”

  As the night came to a close, Bryson lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. He was thankful that his birthday was over and especially grateful that Debo didn’t try any surprises this year. No cake, no parties, limited birthday wishes.

  He altered his gaze from the ceiling to the light-shielded closet directly outside of his room. Reaching over and grabbing a quill from the nightstand, he twirled it between his fingers before throwing it toward the light. It soared through the air—the quill unaware of its pending doom. Once it made contact, it caught fire and burned to a crisp. As its ashes fell to the ground, Bryson thought back to when he first learned about the glowing door …

  “Listen here, Bry,” Debo said. “I’ve always told you to never touch this light. That it can hurt you badly. I’ve always warned you about my Intel Energy and the dangerous electricity it can create.”

  “And that’s why you’ve never shown me them,” said an enthusiastic seven-year-old Bryson. “You’re super strong!”

  Debo smiled. “Correct. This will be the only time I ever show you what my Intel Energy is capable of. You’re getting to the age where you’re going to start acting on your curiosities and not listen to what I say. Pretty soon, locks on the door won’t keep you from opening them, so I have to be extra careful.”

  Bryson stood on his tip-toes in anticipation as Debo continued speaking. “You know what Intelights are.” He nodded in the direction of a newly formed shield of light. “This is an Intelight—an everlasting and very powerful Intelight. I told you to find a twig this morning. Do you have it with you?”

  The young boy shoved his hand deep in his pocket and pulled out a small twig. Debo took it from him. “This will do nicely,” he said. “Now, watch closely.”

  Debo held the end of the twig and slowly pushed it toward the glowing orb. Bryson expected the Intelight to act, literally, as a shield. However, this was not the case. As the twig touched the light, it disintegrated into ash. The boy’s mouth dropped in disbelief. It was a level of power he had never witnessed before. He was taught that the people of the Passion Kingdom were the only ones capable of burning because of Passion Energy, but Debo was proving this wrong. This Intelight, created by a member of the Intel Kingdom and his Intel Energy, was burning this twig to ash.

  “You see? Do not touch this light. It must be strange that I will be keeping something so dangerous in the house, but my intentions are not to hurt you.” Debo gripped Bryson’s shoulder as he stared him in the eyes. “I love you. I always have and I will always take care of you. What’s the number one rule in this house?”

  Bryson looked back at him with large, curious eyes. “Do not touch the light.”

  Debo rustled Bryson’s long blond hair. “Good,” he said with a satisfied smile …

  Bryson rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes in effort to finally fall asleep, but thinking about the light prevented any of that. He decided to think of something worth dreaming about. His mind drifted to a beautiful Royal girl with green hair and a pink begonia, and with these thoughts, Bryson dozed off with images of Lilu in his mind.

  7

  The Captains

  The following day, Bryson and the rest of the Jestivan found themselves inside the same room they were in the day before during the story of Thusia’s Sacrifice. Today, however, Thusia’s coffin and the pillows were gone, leaving the room bare.

  The ten Jestivan stood in a line against the wall while the Directors stood in the middle of the room. Grand Director Poicus was standing in the center spot as usual.

  “What makes a good leader?” he asked.

  “Power,” Bryson answered quickly.

  Poicus tugged at his beard. “Well, a leader has power, but what gives him that power?”

  “I think he meant power as in physical ability, Grand Director Poicus,” Yama corrected. “And if that’s what he meant, I would agree.”

  “Ah, I see,” Poicus said. He smiled and rubbed his open palms together. “Then this test seems only fitting for that of a captain! If a leader requires strength to smash his foes, then we planned accordingly, Directors. Today’s test will be a measure of your power—or ability and talent I should say. Your energies will be put on display.”

  Bryson’s stomach dropped. He had never managed to emit more than mere sparks from his fingertips. Debo always told him to master technique and speed before moving onto his energy. He was going to utterly fail this test.

  “Rhyparia, you may have a seat near the wall over there since you already had your turn earlier this morning.”

  Confusion crept its way onto most faces as they watched Rhyparia separate from the pack. Why did she get a private test?

  Poicus ignored the perplexed looks. “We randomly chose the order this morning and Zana Himitsu, you are first. Please, come stand in the center of the room, state your name and kingdom, and give us a splendid show!”

  The Directors backed up against the far wall while Himitsu strolled out to where they had been standing. Tall and tan-skinned with sleek black hair, he had an alarmingly commanding presence thanks to his height and perfectly erect posture.

  “I am Himitsu, member of the Passion Kingdom, possessor of Passion Energy and wielder of fire,” he said in a creepily calm voice.

  “Very well then. Let’s see it,” the beautiful Director Venustas instructed.

  Himitsu rolled up one of his long robe sleeves. He pointed at the ground, and as he did so, a flame about half his height sprouted—a black flame. This caused eyes to widen around the room—including the Directors’. Venustas, however, smiled as Himitsu proceeded to circle his pointed finger around himself until he was enclosed in a short wall of black fire. It emitted no smoke and no light.

  Venustas looked at Poicus with a satisfied smile. “And you didn’t believe me.”

  “I must apologize. When someone approaches me with the claim that he or she knows an assassin-blooded teenager with control over hi
s or her ability, I tend to think they’re a bit crazy.”

  Poicus told Himitsu to have a seat next to Rhyparia. Spirit Director Neaneuma then called on the next student. “Lita Jilly, it’s your turn, dear.”

  Jilly raced to the center of the room—or hobbled the best she could in her heels.

  “Jilly . . . Why heels?” Neaneuma asked.

  “Yesterday, Grand Director Poicus said the competition could be a battle between who is the cutest, so I tried to look extra cute today! These heels are cute, right?” she asked while looking down at them.

  Neaneuma glared at Poicus, who ducked his blushing face in embarrassment. The Spirit Director turned back toward the girl and said sweetly, “Take them off, hon. They aren’t necessary.”

  Jilly gave a sigh of relief and threw her heels to the side. “Thank bhavatama.”

  Neaneuma nodded for her to begin.

  “I am Jilly, resident of the Spirit Kingdom, possessor of Spirit Energy, and wielder of wind.”

  The moment her sentence ended, a blast of wind shot upward, enclosing her body. Its power forced her to hold down her dress as her face rippled. Her long, blond hair looked like it was being pulled by a vacuum from above. This went on for close to a minute, and Bryson began to wonder if she even knew how to stop. Toshik’s face was in his hand. He obviously wasn’t amused.

  Finally, the wind halted abruptly, and Jilly’s hair fell into a frizzy mess. She was smiling from ear to ear. Once again, just like every other time when Jilly was the focal point, the directors appeared amused.

  “Very good. You may have a seat,” instructed Neaneuma.

  Passion Director Venustas spoke next. “Ms. Olivia Lavender.”

  Olivia walked deliberately to the center of the room. With an expression of stone, she said, “I am Olivia, resident of the Passion Kingdom, possessor of Passion Energy, and wielder of fire.”

  She stood still for a few moments. The only movement came from Meow Meow wiggling his nose. For any other student, failing in front of the directors would have been extremely embarrassing. But this was Olivia. If she couldn’t do something, she wasn’t going to shy away from that fact.

  “What’s wrong?” Venustas asked.

  “I have no knowledge of how to use my fire abilities. I have never shown any signs of any kind of ability,” Olivia blandly explained.

  Venustas gave her a warm smile. “And that’s perfectly okay. You may take a seat.”

  The next four Jestivan did fairly well in their tests. Toshik and Yama both showed off their impressive speed and swordsmanship. However, Yama was definitely the faster of the two. The boy with pure white hair, who was introduced as Tashami, exhibited his wind abilities. He didn’t show as much power as Jilly did, but he definitely displayed more control. Then there was the beautiful Lilu. She had rubbed her hands together viciously until an electrical current engulfed them, and when she pulled her hands apart, the electricity stretched and entwined around itself. The control was masterful.

  Now there were only two left to test, and Bryson was the next up. “Come on, Bryson,” Debo said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Bryson walked toward the testing area in a surprisingly calm state, for he had already accepted the fact that this was going to be a letdown. He cleared his throat. “I’m Bryson, resident of the Intel Kingdom, possessor of Intel Energy, and wielder of electricity. I shall dazzle you all with my talents.”

  Upon saying this, he pathetically raised his hands in front of him as to receive a bowl of soup. As he did so, a few, weak sparks discharged from his fingertips and quickly died out.

  He scanned the director’s faces. They were unreadable. He supposed that was better than scorn. Debo’s face broke into a smile. “Thanks for wowing us, Bry.”

  “That’ll be twenty pintos,” Bryson said in a deadpan. “And tips are always welcome.”

  Debo chuckled. “Go have a seat.”

  It was down to one person left. Agnos strolled to the spot in the same white robes and rope tied around his waist that he wore yesterday. With each step, his sandals made a hollow noise that echoed against the walls.

  “I am Agnos, resident of the Archaic Kingdom, possessor of Archaic Energy, and wielder of ancients.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of black glasses with perfectly circular frames. While putting them on, he explained, “These glasses are my Ancient, and they are in the highest tier of rare pieces—a Relic. This isn’t an Ancient you simply stumble upon in a shop. I could sell these glasses for an amount that would allow me to never have to work a day for the rest of my life.”

  Bryson didn’t believe it. He sat there, laughing to himself.

  “However, that would be against my morals,” Agnos continued. “I strive for a deeper meaning to this world, and these glasses provide access to that meaning.” He paused again as he pulled out a book from his robes. “Here I have a book from the Cyn Kingdom—perhaps the most notorious of the Dark Realm’s kingdoms in regards to inflicting fear. Most of you know it better as the Void. This is incredibly difficult to get a hold of, but it’s important for my demonstration. In the Cyn Kingdom, they speak Cynnus. It’s a very unique language that sounds similar to a mixture of a snake’s hiss and a ghost’s howl. Only a handful of people in the Light Realm know it.

  “I myself, have never practiced other languages. I know one language, and that’s Sphairian. But this doesn’t matter. Why? Because this Ancient allows me to interpret any language, no matter if I’m reading or hearing it.”

  Agnos walked toward the directors and showed Grand Director Poicus the book. It only took a mere glance for Poicus to realize he didn’t know what he was looking at. “Yes, that’s definitely not Sphairian,” the old man said as he handed it back.

  “Listen,” Agnos commanded. He licked his index finger and flipped through a few pages until he found the one he wanted. “‘I came here to save them. I came here to spread the warmth that ignited my soul. I was a fool. I was once known around the Light Realm as the Unbreakable, but now I’m completely shattered. There is no hope in this world … Everyone should die. That’s the only way to escape. No existence … Nothing. That is the only perfect world. To live is to suffer. With death comes comfort. I failed myself … Or perhaps, the world failed me.’”

  Reverberating silence followed his reading.

  “You’re all probably wondering how I have a book written by someone who has not been seen or heard from in almost 28 years. Well, I had a long talk with one of our fellow Jestivan last night. When this person learned about my ability, they asked me to read a book they had possessed for nearly six years.

  “As interesting as this is, however, I have even greater aspirations of learning about bigger, more complex stories. Stories that were documented hundreds—maybe even thousands—of years ago. Stories written in ancient text. Ancient text that can only be read by someone with these glasses I’m currently wearing. The lone problem is finding these ancient documents.”

  Bryson was impressed. Agnos may not be a fighter, but there was no denying this boy’s intelligence.

  “Extraordinary,” Grand Director Poicus said. “I think I can speak on behalf of all the directors when I say one of the most rewarding perks of being a teacher are those rare moments when a student teaches us something. We seldom get to experience the wonder of gaining new knowledge such as that. Simply splendid. Thank you, Agnos. You may have a seat.”

  While Agnos took a seat with everyone else, the directors began whispering among themselves. Bryson decided he was okay with not being a captain. Besides, he didn’t want the pressure and would probably make for a horrible leader.

  As the ten students began adjusting where they were seated to better accommodate who they wanted to talk to, Bryson sat in front of Olivia and Rhyparia. “I guess us three are definitely not captain material,” Bryson said.

  Rhyparia smiled. “That’s perfectly fine with me. It’s not like any of these people would actually respect me as a captain an
yways.”

  “You’re a downer,” Meow Meow snorted.

  Bryson gave Rhyparia an exasperated look. “Stop being like that. You’re obviously special.” He then sat up intently and asked, “Why else would you have gotten to take the test by yourself and not embarrass yourself like Olivia and I did?”

  “I didn’t embarrass myself,” Olivia said.

  “Well?” Bryson pressed.

  Rhyparia adjusted her bandana and looked to be thinking for a second. She then said, “I’m not sure. Like I said yesterday, I have no clue how to link my Archaic Energy with my artifact.”

  Bryson decided to drop it. She was being suspicious, but he didn’t care enough to press the subject any further. Besides, Jilly’s obnoxious shouting was distracting him. Yama, who was at the other end of Jilly’s conversation, was somehow taking it in stride.

  Bryson let out an enormous yawn. “Rhyparia, do you want to hang with me and Olivia after school today?” he asked.

  She smiled awkwardly. It was obvious she wasn’t used to that sort of offer. “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure what we would do, but we’ll figure out something,” he said with a shrug.

  Rhyparia started to say something, but was cut short by Grand Director Poicus. “Attention, young ones,” he commanded firmly. “We have made our decisions.” He paused and asked with a smile, “Can I get a drum roll?”

  Immediately, Jilly began excitedly slamming her hands on the hardwood floor—she was the only one.

  “I appreciate that, Lita Jilly,” Poicus said. “The captains of the two teams will be …” He made an unnecessary pause for dramatic effect while Jilly’s ear-rattling pounding of the floor continued.

  “Bryson and Olivia!” Poicus shouted.

  Crickets—or at least that’s what would have been heard if there were any. Olivia appeared unfazed, but Bryson and the rest of the Jestivan were dumbfounded. The two names Poicus just announced seemed to still echo off the walls of the empty room. Or perhaps they were echoing between each person’s ears as their brains tried to make sense of this.