Hollow Core

by Gage Lee

  “There is no time. You have thirty seconds to say your goodbyes and then we must depart.” The man wore a simple black suit and chauffeur’s cap. His eyes were covered by a mirrored band of sunglasses even though the sun had gone down more than two hours ago.

  “Go,” my mother said. She followed me to the door and hugged me from behind, her arms warm and strong around my waist. “Hurry, before I change my mind.”

  “I love you,” I said. “I’ll be back, soon.”

  We both knew that was a lie. The academy didn’t release initiates for semester breaks or holidays until the end of the first year. It would be ten months before I saw my mother again, and that was if nothing happened to me in the meantime.

  The man at the door turned sharply and walked off at the precise moment my thirty seconds ran out. I hustled after him, my ill-fitting work shoes slapping on the concrete balcony outside our apartment. My eyes soaked up the details of our block building, and I stared over the railing at the labor camp fifteen stories below. Men, women, and children scuttled about like beetles as the third shift began. I’d expected to be down there with them come morning.

  “Will we get there on time?” I asked the man. “Classes start tomorrow, and I’d hate to miss—”

  “It’s already tomorrow at the School. But you’ll be there on time.” The man responded without looking back. “The Disciples keep their promises.”

  I didn’t see how that was possible. We couldn’t get to the airport in less than a couple of hours, and no plane I knew of could cover the distance between the Midwest and the middle of the Pacific Ocean before morning.

  Maybe Tycho had decided to string me along until the very last second so his cruel joke would sting more. Or Maybe Grayson had interfered.

  The chauffeur descended the staircase at the end of the walkway at a rapid clip. His feet beat out a sharp staccato rhythm as we descended, but his breathing remained as slow and steady as if we were standing still.

  I couldn’t wait to have that kind of effortless power. I wondered how long it would be before my mastery of jinsei hardened my body and lent me the legendary endurance of the Empyreals.

  “Here we are.” The chauffeur stopped at the third floor, took a left, and briskly walked along the balcony in front of the apartment doors. They were mostly identical to my own, though each of them had been damaged and worn in unique ways. Some were dented by the pounding of angry fists, others had grown brittle under the merciless light of the sun and were now chipped and cracked, and still others had been cut or burned. The blue paint that had covered the plastic had long ago chipped away, to reveal the dull gray slabs of polymer that was all that stood between the occupants and the harsh outside world.

  “Where?” I asked.

  The chauffeur responded by grabbing the handle of one of the apartment doors and wrenching it open.

  “Get in.”

  “That’s someone’s apartment,” I objected. “We can’t just go in.”

  The chauffeur let out an exasperated sigh, shrugged, and walked through the open door.

  A flash of light burst onto the balcony as he vanished.

  I peeked around the open door, and my heart stopped.

  I’d expected a dingy, cramped apartment. What I saw was a white sand beach drenched in golden sunlight. Exotic trees I’d never seen before sprouted from the rich soil further inland and flanked an enormous building I recognized from television. Even as my brain struggled to take in all the details of the scene before me, the image began to waver.

  It was now or never.

  I closed my eyes and stepped across the threshold.

  The wild, salty perfume of the ocean invaded my nostrils. Warm morning sunlight caressed my face, and a gentle breeze tickled my skin.

  “You’ll be late if you don’t hustle,” the chauffeur said.

  I opened my eyes and found him standing next to me. His sunglasses reflected my confused stare, and a faint smirk twitched the corners of his lips. He nodded toward the building and made a get moving gesture with one hand.

  “Thank you.” I bowed deeply and took off across the sand.

  Everything around me was a marvel. It was hard to believe that this place and the dingy labor camp where I’d grown up belonged in the same world. It was no wonder the Empyreals kept the rest of us away from their domain. If we all knew what we were missing out on, there’d be a revolt.

  I shook my head at the thought. There’d be enough time for politics and revolutions later. For now, I just wanted to get inside the School of Swords and Serpents and claim my place among the student body.

  A stone walkway led from the edge of the beach up the gentle slope of a grass-covered hill to an enormous torii that appeared to have been carved from a single piece of redwood. The ornate archway loomed over me, and the dense scrivenings that covered its legs shimmered with a rainbow glow as I passed beneath it. A sudden sense of calm and well-being coursed through me, and a warm tingle circled through my core like a sleepy cat making its bed.

  For the first time since Tycho Reyes had promised me a place at the School, I actually believed I belonged there.

  I covered the rest of the distance to the front doors at a dead run. I’d no idea what time it was, or how long it would be until classes started, but I didn’t want to be late for any of it.

  The academy towered above the trees that flanked it. It was a mishmash of different architectural styles that somehow all worked together. The lower floors were constructed of heavy river stones with seams of stark white mortar holding them together. Narrow barred windows lined those walls, allowing light to penetrate the interior without sacrificing security. The front doors were heavy iron-banded wood, their faces studded with bronze spikes and enough scrivenings to stop an army.

  The upper floors were half-timbered like the cozy cottages I’d seen on Oktoberfest postcards. The framing elements were inlaid with metal sigils connected by deep red scrivenings, and I knew those were every bit as secure as the heavy stones in the bottom floors.

  The very top of the main building had an elegantly sloped roof like an enormous pagoda. Golden statues of dragons and other fantastic beasts lined the roof’s edges, and translucent spirits swarmed around them in dizzying numbers. The pagoda’s raised ends were at least twenty stories above the ground, and the School was far wider than it was tall.

  I’d never seen anything so imposing or amazing.

  “Hey, it’s the mystery boy!” Clementine darted down from the crowd of students who had gathered in front of the academy. Eric and Abi followed Clem down the pathway, and all three of them gathered around me with uncertain smiles on their faces.

  “Wasn’t sure you’d actually be here,” Eric said. “That was quite the scene you caused at the challenge.”

  “I was just trying to do my best.” I shrugged and offered them a sincere smile. They were the only people I knew here, and I needed every friend I could get. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d be here either.”

  “I’m glad you are!” Clem said. “I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to find you so I could pay up on our bet.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.” I shook my head and raised my hands as she untied a small coin purse from her gi’s belt. “I really couldn’t take it.”

  Eric and Abi exchanged glances, and Clem bounced the heavy purse in her palm.

  “And why wasn’t that a fair bet?” Clem tilted her head to one side and studied me curiously. “I’m the one who suggested the terms, not you. It was my guess to make, and I whiffed. You won, fair and square.”

  “I just...” I stopped, unsure of how I really felt. It had been a fair bet, and I had won. But taking that much money from someone I wanted to befriend seemed wrong. “That much money for a guess just seems wrong.”

  Eric stifled a laugh, and Abi stomped on his foot.

  “Of course, it is a significant sum, and some less scrupulous students might try to take it from your quarters.” Abi nodded gravely as he spok
e. “Perhaps Clem could send it to your home, where your family could keep it safe for you until your return.”

  “Yes!” I agreed a little too emphatically. The money would do wonders for my mother, and Abi had given all of us an easy way out of the situation without losing face. “I can give you my address, or you could send it straight to her account?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Clem assured me. “You sure you won’t let me in on your secret, though?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Clem seemed nice enough, so far, but I didn’t trust any Empyreal enough to reveal my hollow core. “When do classes begin?”

  “Oh, not until after the assay.” Eric gestured toward the small mob of excited students waiting outside the building. “That’s what all of the new initiates are waiting for.”

  “Nobody told me anything about an assay. What do I need to do?” Tycho Reyes had secured me a spot at the School, but he hadn’t given me any information or details on what to expect. I had no idea if I should’ve brought supplies, and my work clothes were a disgrace next to the immaculate gis and robes of the other students. I didn’t see a single initiate other than myself who was not wearing clan colors.

  “Oh, my,” Clem said. “They really didn’t tell you anything, did they?”

  “I’m afraid not.” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial near whisper. “My admission wasn’t exactly traditional.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Eric deftly moved his foot before Abi could stomp on it again. “You’ve already got quite a reputation. I’m not even sure it’s safe for us to talk to you.”

  Clem rolled her eyes and stood next to me. She draped an arm over my shoulders, swept her arm out to encompass our surroundings, and leaned her head against mine.

  “Eric’s being a baby, don’t mind him. Let me give you the lowdown on the assay.” She pointed a finger at Eric, who wore the same vest and shorts I’d seen him in at the challenge. “He is one of the Resplendent Suns, very honorable, very scared to break tradition. It’s a nice enough clan, if you don’t mind following every little rule all the time. They also get pretty hung up on rank, which is just annoying.”

  “And I am from the Titans of Majestic Stone,” Abi said with obvious pride. “My clan has upheld Empyreal Law for centuries, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  “They’re also goody-two-shoes,” Clem said with a grin for her friend. “There’s no one I’d trust more to have my back than Abi, but you can’t tell him anything even a little shady, or he’ll be forced to rat you out to one of the wardens or a professor. It’s just in his nature.”

  “It’s okay, Abi,” Eric said. “We all know you mean well. You’re just trying to keep us out of trouble. And at least you’re consistent.”

  “That better not have been a jab at me,” Clem said. “I’ll have you know that the Thunder’s Children are extremely consistent in our inconsistency.”

  “She’s the one you have to watch out for,” Abi confided. “Her clan isn’t happy if they aren’t sowing chaos and confusion wherever they go.”

  “Gotta keep things fresh,” Clem admitted. “See that one over there in the black?”

  The girl she was talking about was a good head taller than the Empyreals surrounding her, and her sleek black robes only accentuated her height. A ruler-straight line of scrivenings ran down her spine and splintered the sunlight into shards of prismatic radiance.

  “She’s a warden. They’re upperclassmen who keep an eye on the rest of us in the dormitory towers and teach some of the classes. She’s also a Shadow Phoenix,” Eric said in a near whisper. “They’re bookish and smart, for the most part, but they don’t care very much about their honor. They’re the youngest clan, and the least trustworthy if you ask me.”

  “That’s not very charitable, Eric,” Clem said. “But it’s mostly true. Phoenixes were reformed from the ruins of the New Moon clan, and they don’t much care about the things other clans hold dear. It makes them difficult to predict. Or trust.”

  That was interesting. I’d seen the other clans at contests and on television, but the Shadow Phoenixes were new to me. And I’d never heard of the New Moon clan, either. The longer I stayed here, the more I understood how little I actually knew about Empyreal society.

  “I don’t see any Disciples of the Jade Flame,” I said. “Shouldn’t there be some in the initiate class?”

  “Oh, they’ll be here,” Clem said. “But they’re exempt from the assay because they’re evil.”

  “Clem!” Abi called. “You can’t say that. You can’t judge an entire clan based on the actions of one of their ancestors.”

  “Have it your way.” She shrugged. “Evil or not, the Disciples never get assayed and no initiate ever gets assigned into their clan. The rest of us have to go through the test, to determine which clan we’ll be assigned to.”

  “But you already have a clan,” I said. “Won’t you just go into the Thunder’s Children?”

  Eric shook his head and frowned.

  “If you’re raised right, you’ll most likely be measured and assigned to your own clan. But there’s no guarantee that’s how it’ll go.” He lowered his voice. “It’s a shame if you’re removed from your parents’ clan, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of, if you know what I mean.”

  Well, that was an interesting twist I hadn’t expected. I’d never even considered how people were assigned to clans, and I’d certainly never thought that the academy would split up families by assigning children to an entirely different clan from their parents.

  “How do they decide which clan to assign you to?” I asked.

  Given a choice, I would’ve chosen the Resplendent Suns. They were the most honorable and most public face of the Empyreals. Movie stars, professional athletes, and even some politicians hailed from that clan, and all were held in high regard. The clan would give my family’s name a much-needed boost out of the miserable dishonor my father had left us in.

  “That’s what the assay is for. They measure your jinsei, probe your core, and figure out exactly where you belong,” Clem said with a grin. “I guess you won’t be able to keep your style secret from them.”

  My stomach clenched, and it took every ounce of effort I had not to vomit onto the stone walkway. No one had ever told me they probed your core when you came to the School of Swords and Serpents. What would happen when they found out that mine was hollow?

  The Assay

  I DIDN’T HAVE LONG to wonder how I’d hide my core from a probe by the professors before everything was thrown into chaos.

  A pair of dragon spirits appeared in a burst of red and gold smoke and flung open the front doors. Students flooded into the building, like there was a prize to be the first one inside. I brought up the rear with Clem and her friends, and I was comforted by the fact that I wasn’t the only one whose eyes bugged out as we entered the academy for the first time.

  “I can’t believe I’m finally here,” Clem said. Her wide emerald eyes reflected the scrivenings that burned on the walls.

  “You’ve never been here?” I asked. “I thought Empyreals all trained here from the time you were little kids.”

  “Oh, no,” Eric said. “All of our early training takes place in the overcities. No one comes here before they turn fifteen. And even then, the clans don’t send all of their initiates, just those of us who—”

  “Oh, I smell bacon.” Abi licked his lips and stood on his tiptoes to crane his neck over the heads of the crowd in front of us. “I cannot wait for breakfast.”

  Sure enough, a ridiculous buffet was waiting for us. Tables lined both sides of the enormous entry hall, and I was surprised they hadn’t bowed from the weight of all the food on top of them. Their heavy wooden surfaces bore the burden of enough serving platters to feed a small army. I hardly had time to take in the marble-floored entryway before my Empyreal friends dragged me toward the feeding line.

  “I’m so hungry,” Clem said. “I was too nervous to eat anything before I left the Kyoto
overcity, and now I’m starved.”

  The line moved quickly, and we soon found ourselves faced with more options than I knew what to do with. I loaded my plate with five slices of bacon, four sausage patties, a pair of bagels, a heaping mound of the fluffiest scrambled eggs I’d ever seen, and a stack of buttery pancakes that threatened to topple to the floor if I wasn’t very careful how I carried my plate.

  “So good,” Abi said around a mouthful of bacon. “I see some tables over this way.”

  I followed the Empyreals through the crowd of unruly students and tried to soak up all the details of my surroundings that I could. The entryway was at least fifty feet wide and twice that long. Two doorways punched through the long walls on either side of the entry, and a wide staircase dominated its far end. The ceiling was three floors above us, and wooden walkways extended from the stairways to encircle the upper levels. Older students watched us from up there, their eyes cold and appraising as they measured up the new meat.

  They looked like vultures, ready to dive down and feast on anyone who fell. I’d heard the faculty encouraged competition among the students, but the ugly look of contempt on the faces of the upperclassmen drove that point home. I’d find no friends there.

  “Here we are,” Clem shouted and plopped down in a wooden chair at the empty end of a long table. She’d already shoveled in two mouthfuls of pancakes before the rest of us had even taken our seats.

  “I’m starving,” Eric declared and plopped a whole sausage patty into his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned rapturously as he chewed, one hand rubbing his belly. “So good.”

  Abi didn’t say a word as he dug in, and I raised my fork to join him. I’d never had a meal like this and wasn’t sure how my system would react to it. I also didn’t care. The smell alone had driven me half mad with hunger, and I would have eaten every bite on the plate even if I knew it was poisoned.

  “Mr. Warin.” A cold voice hooked my attention and dragged it across the room away from my food.

  The speaker was tall and lanky, clad entirely in vivid red robes that concealed their body completely from the bottom of the chin down to the toes. A tall black hat topped the ensemble, and a veil of golden chains dangled from its wide brim. It was impossible for me to tell if the person approaching me was male or female, or, honestly, a person at all.