by C J Benjamin
Blackness.
“Master, she’s here!” Kobel exclaimed, barely able to catch his breath.
He ran all the way to Malakai’s office the moment he’d seen the words appear in the Book of Gods. He’d held his breath while he watched the ink slowly crawl across the pages written by some unseen force. He’d even closed his eyes and counted to twenty, praying the words would still be there when he opened them. They were. He closed the ancient book and then opened it again, just to be sure. Kobel knew he couldn’t disappoint his master again. The penalty would be too steep. He’d seen enough of them doled out to know that Malakai didn’t make empty threats.
As he slowly opened the delicate pages of the prophecy revealing book, he let out a breath of relief. Sure enough, the elegant script was still there.
The one you have been waiting for has arrived. Shielded by disguise, you will have to seek out what you covet, for it will not reveal itself plainly.
“You’re sure, Kobel?” Malakai asked, looking up at the old man from behind his desk.
“Yes, Master. Look, it’s right here,” Kobel said proffering the Book of Gods before him.
A smile cracked the stern face of Malakai Vanir as he rose to his full height.
“So it begins.”
2
The moment we’d passed through the hedges, Remi’s power failed and we became visible. Instantly, we were tangled in a mess of heavy nets that toppled us to the ground. I never even saw it coming. It was as if they fell from the sky, enfolding us in terror. Before we knew what was happening, dozens of soldiers from Lux descended upon us, shouting and adding to the chaos. We tumbled about as they wrenched the heavy net, pulling us in a mess of twisted limbs and disorder. Pain seared through my body as I panicked to right myself against the ropes. Our struggles only lasted a moment before we were yanked from under the net one by one. I screamed and kicked against the Luxor who’d grabbed me by the back of my neck and hoisted me from under the net. He twisted my arms behind my back to the point of blinding pain.
My eyes searched wildly for my friends. They landed on Nova. He was already out from under the net and was being restrained by two Luxors. I cried out to him and his eyes locked desperately with mine; stormy green meeting ice blue terror.
“Nova!” I screamed.
Nova struggled against our attackers to get to me. He managed to drag them about a foot in my direction, but he was outmatched.
“Get off of her!” he screamed, disregarding the chokehold restraining him.
He was rewarded with a blow to the jaw that spattered blood onto my feet. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the Luxor kick him in the ribs so hard that he dropped to his knees gasping for breath.
I tried to call his name, but it came out as an incoherent croak when a rough bag was thrown over my head, blocking my view of the terrifying scene.
My mind was reeling. I was beyond shocked to see Luxors at the Troian Center. They were specially trained soldiers who swore a death oath to protect the city of Lux. Normally they were seen in their crisp grey military uniforms, patrolling the city’s border. I was baffled as to why they’d be here.
When the bags were finally removed we were inside the courtyard of the Troian Center. The Luxors were certainly living up to their brutal reputation as they gagged and bound us. One grabbed my arm so hard that I was terrified the bone would break. He was beyond strong and I felt my feet leave the ground as he hoisted me away from my terrified friends. He jarred my arms painfully behind my back and tied them together. But he wasn’t done yet; he shoved me to my knees and pulled my fists to my ankles, binding me in that uncomfortable position. I felt something cold and hard next to my ear. It seemed to hum for a split second before the soldier grabbed me by the nape of my neck and jerked my head to the side. The hum changed into a sickening shearing sound. I felt pressure and stinging as the cold metal bit my scalp. I could feel soft coifs, piling up around my bound ankles and I gasped when I realized what was happening. A single tear ran down my cheek and into the corner of my mouth. It tasted salty and bitter. I bit my tongue to stop myself from crying as the Luxor savagely sheared off my hair.
The bag had been put over my head again and I focused on taking small breaths, because I was losing feeling in my limbs and I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. I could hear my friends being treated to the same brutal handling. Their muffled yells tore at my heart, but I was helpless to save them without my powers. Sparrow’s sad whimpers sent chills down my spine. This was much worse than I had ever anticipated. We thought we would be dealing with the usual Grifts, and suspected a new headmistress, but never anything like this. We were no match for Luxors. I found myself wondering who they’d been expecting. Was it necessary to send soldiers to attack teenagers?
The commotion suddenly ceased and I held my breath and begged my ears to tell me what was going on. Perhaps the soldiers had left us. I cursed myself for veiling my powers. There was nothing I could do to get us out of this situation. I couldn’t even telepath to the others. For a moment I thought of Isby coming to our rescue, but then I remembered I didn’t trust the grumpy old bird. Plus, I had told him he was not to follow us from the forest; that I would call him if we needed him.
Another bad decision on my part, I scolded myself.
I counted the seconds of silence anxiously. Surely Nova would burn through the ropes with his powers, or Journey would turn them to stone and bust through them. Still, I heard nothing and I was too afraid to utter a sound.
Finally, I heard the soft crunching of gravel followed by a single voice. It cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter and my stomach churned with fear. A twinge of recognition pricked my mind. I knew his voice. I’d heard it before.
“Now what have we here?” purred the voice, as smooth as silk. “My deepest apologies, children. I hate that you were welcomed under such duress, but we must always be vigilant. I assure you, if I had been made aware of your arrival it would have been a much more glorious entry to our fine institution.”
We were still kneeling in the courtyard surrounded by Luxors as his voice addressed us. He finally gave the order to release us and our binds were untied and bags removed. I blinked rapidly adjusting to the sudden brightness.
I caught a glimpse of a tall, hooded man. I couldn’t get a good look at him as he stalked behind us droning insincere remarks. I was horrified to see that all of our heads had been viciously hacked at. There were haphazard patches of hair next to raw sections of still damp blood where the blades had cut too close. The ground was covered in an array of severed hair that swirled into tiny cyclones in the soft breeze. Sparrow and Jemma were still shuddering with sobs. They seemed to have gotten the worst of the scalping, making me wonder what my own hair looked like. My fingers itched to reach for my scalp, but I stood tall, refusing to let this monster know he had gotten the best of me. I wasn’t buying his apologetic tone at all. Anyone who brought Luxors to an orphanage was definitely not to be trusted.
He walked over to Sparrow, who was trying to stop crying, but every time her slender fingers clutched a strand of hair that pulled free from her head, she started sobbing all over again.
“Why are you crying, child?” he asked.
“Mm…my hair,” she whispered.
He pulled a thin black blade from within his robe and my breath caught in my throat. I helplessly watched him press the cold steel up to her scalp. He held it there for a moment and I watched her tremble. But then, as if deciding better of it, he pulled it away and walked on.
“Merely a precaution. It’ll grow back I assure you. It’s a small price to pay to ensure identity,” he said sounding amused with himself. “We must always provide the utmost protection for our own children.”
I was so confused. I looked around and from the expressions on my friends’ faces they were just as shocked. The hooded man continued down the line and pressed his blade to each of their freshly scalped heads.
My mind was swi
ftly recounting his words as I watched him. He had said ‘our own children.’ There had never been any children at the Troian Center other than orphans. Why would a parent send their children to a place like this?
“Now let me guess,” he said interrupting my thoughts. “You six are the orphans that Headmistress Greeley lost. We’ve been looking for you. I couldn’t be more delighted that you’ve shown up of your own accord.” He clasped his hands together with exuberance. “You have no idea how worried I’ve been for your safety. When I heard that you were missing, I sent my best men out looking for you. This island isn’t a safe place to run off in alone. Quite truthfully, I’m surprised to find you all still alive.”
There was an awful honesty in the way he delivered that last sentence. It confirmed my instant feeling of distrust in him. Who was he, anyway? His voice haunted my mind as I tried to remember where I’d heard it before. He was circling us with his hands clasped behind his back. He paused from time to time to inspect us. He kept shaking his head and making displeased clucking sounds. When he stopped behind me, I felt his cold blade press against my raw scalp and shivered. After a moment he strode in front of me, and then brought his face so close to mine that it took everything in me not to turn away. He smelled like spice and iron. The scent was so strong, my nostrils flared trying to breathe away the burning odor. My eyes watered, but I met his gaze straight on, not wanting to give this man an inch. My heart faltered when I saw the face that hid in the shadows of his hood. I recognized him instantly. I felt my knees knock together, but I was determined not to show my fear.
“Ah, and you must be Geneva, I presume.”
So, he knew my real name. I could feel the eyes of the whole group upon me. I did my best to hide my surprise and keep my tone casual.
“I make it a habit not to talk to strangers,” I smartly retorted even though I knew exactly who he was.
“Ah!” He rolled his head back in thunderous laughter, letting his hood fall to reveal his long, dark hair pulled back from his perfectly groomed face. “Right, you are! Where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. I am Malakai Vanir, the new Headmaster of the Troian Academy.”
There was a rush of anxious murmurs among my friends as they realized that the suspected head of the Ravinori was confronting us.
Malakai smirked at us coyly, studying our subtle reactions.
“I’m very glad you’ve come back. As I said, I learned of your escape under the past headmistress, and I don’t know what might have transpired to cause you to flee this fine institution, but that’s neither here nor there. The important thing is that you’re back and you’re safe. I think you’ll find that I run this institution much differently than Headmistress Greeley. I hope you will appreciate my goals to improve the quality of life at the Troian Academy and to turn it into an elite educational conservatory that you will be proud to attend.”
“Funny way of showing it,” Journey mumbled.
He was so fast I didn’t even see him move, but a Luxor was on top of Journey the moment the words crossed his lips. He had him on his knees and was crushing his throat.
“Tisk, tisk. Thank you, soldier; that’ll do.” Malakai called the lethal Luxor off of Journey, who collapsed clutching his already bruising neck.
“Ah,” Malakai sighed dramatically. “Again, I find myself apologizing to you. I should have told you that I must be addressed as Headmaster or Sir, and that backtalk is not tolerated here at the Troian Academy. We are grooming proper, well-rounded, young adults and no other behavior is acceptable. Anyway, it’s not your fault. Once you go through orientation you’ll know all the rules you must adhere to. But first things first,” he said with a grin. “Escort them to the infirmary to have them cared for.”
3
The way Malakai had dragged out the last words made me shake. I could only imagine what his version of ‘cared for’ was when he employed a welcoming committee of Luxors. Orientation was definitely in order. My skin crawled, wishing I still had my telepathy to talk to my wide-eyed friends. I didn’t know what I’d say, exactly. It’s not like I could comfort them by saying, "Don’t worry; everything’s going to be all right." Clearly it wasn’t. But there wasn’t time for talking, or anything really. The Luxors hustled us into a trembling line.
As soon as we were escorted into the Troian Center, I felt lost. The orphanage that had been my humble home for as long as I could remember had drastically changed. I was hit with color and richness. The halls were no longer sparse and shabby with cobwebs and dust littering the dimly lit corners. Everything looked bright, shiny and new, perhaps like it looked when it was originally built. There had always been much speculation among the orphans as to what the Troian Center was before it was an orphanage. Some said it was a prison, others a castle. I’d always leaned toward prison, since that’s how it felt to me. But now, it looked like the most extravagant place I’d ever seen, making it seem as though it really could have been a castle. There was so much color. Vibrant tapestries hung from ceiling to floor and beautiful paintings cast in ornate gold frames covered the walls. Rich wood ceiling tiles and beams had been added and long woven carpets lined the center of the marble tiled floors. Torches burned in elegant swirling wall sconces. There were even elegantly scrolled signs in neat bronzed frames with arrows spelling out where everything was located.
Suddenly a sharp tone ripped through the air, causing us to jump. The Luxors halted us and the alarm continued to trumpet three sharp notes. It must be the new signal to end lessons, because the Center bustled to life as doors began to open. Everywhere, children in crisp white uniforms marched single file down the halls, led by Luxors. There were so many more students then there had been when we’d left. Many of them were new faces, and if there were any familiar ones, they were almost unrecognizable with their new looks; boys with buzzed hair, girls with severe hairstyles and painted faces – red glossy lips and sparkling eyelids. As we stood pressed against the cool stone walls blocked by a team of Luxors, I watched as each face that passed me look solemnly forward, not even chancing a glance in our direction.
My heart sunk further into the pit of my stomach. How could we have anticipated all of this? There had to be twice as many children at the Troian Center and the new security measures made it seem like it had been nonexistent before. I didn’t even see any of our familiar Grifts, only a full-fledged army of Luxor soldiers. I had severely underestimated my opponent. But with Malakai acting as headmaster and all these elaborate changes to the Troian Center, it confirmed that something suspicious was going on. We had to be in the right place to find the Pillars.
The Luxors led us wordlessly to a white door, labeled Infirmary, where we were divided; girls to the right, boys to the left.
Jemma, Sparrow and I were ushered into a tiny white room with nothing in it. We all huddled fearfully near each other, waiting for whatever was coming. Both Sparrow and Jemma still shook and stifled sobs. I didn’t know what to say to comfort them. All I could do was hold their hands and squeeze reassuringly.
I looked around at the newly painted walls of Miss Breia’s former nurse’s station. There was nothing familiar about it. The once cozy room looked like it had been whitewashed. It held a glaring difference to the opulent and warm hallway we had been in moments ago. Everything about this room was sterile and uninviting. The floors, walls, ceilings; all white. The lights in the tiny holding room were blinding. I didn’t know what was beyond the door in front of us, but I doubted that the familiar yellow and white gingham curtains and comfortable cot bed were waiting for us.
Finally, a woman dressed in an official looking white coat came out of the white door with a clipboard in her hand.
“Sommers, Jemma?”
No one moved.
“Which one of you is Sommers, Jemma?” questioned the woman, looking up over the rim of her glasses.
“Me. I am,” Jemma said finally finding her voice.
“Follow me,” the woman quipped.
We watched as
Jemma timidly followed her through the door, looking back over her shoulder at us nervously.
“What’s she like, Master?” Kobel asked when Malakai had returned to his office.
He’d been instructed to wait there by Malakai even after much protest. Kobel had been anxiously waiting to meet the supposed chosen one for as long as he could remember. But Malakai had forbidden it. This angered Kobel, but he knew better than to challenge his Master. Instead, he clutched the Book of Gods hoping it would reveal whatever Malakai was encountering in his absence. The book had remained silent. No new words worked their way across the brittle pages, leaving Kobel as restless as ever.
“She’s just like the rest of them; a filthy, scrawny wretch. You’ll meet her soon enough. I’ve sent them all to the Infirmary to be disinfected. Who knows what vermin they carry,” Malakai said with disgust.
“Can you confirm her identity?”
Kobel was trailing too closely behind Malakai, hanging on his every word. He stepped on the edge of his black robe and Malakai whirled around, causing Kobel to cower instantly.
Malakai scowled, but didn’t raise a hand to the old man. Instead he moved to his desk and sat down, leaning over the open Book of Gods. He steepled his fingers and rested his strong chin upon them.
