by K A Riley
But I hung back, watching as the other Seeker Candidates including Freya, the girl with the dark hair—the one Niala had said was a Pathic—made their way over and snagged whatever weapons they’d chosen.
Freya’s was a set of two long, curved daggers that looked like they could eviscerate an elephant. As she walked back to my end of the courtyard, she clasped one dagger in each hand and shot me a look. Although no sound came out, the word she mouthed as she passed was as clear as day: “Soon.”
Nearly gagging on the softball-sized lump in my throat, I inched toward the weapons racks, my eyes darting back and forth as I waited for someone to scream at me that I was in the wrong place. When no one else paid any attention to me, I dashed over and grabbed the bow and a quiver of arrows, as well as the small dagger I’d selected the previous day, which I attached to my belt with the clip on its sheath.
“I feel so useless,” I confessed as I moved back to Niala. The bow seemed brittle and weak, now that I compared it to some of the others’ weapons. “I guess I should have asked for a semi-automatic machine gun instead.”
“They don’t have those here,” she laughed.
“Why not? Seems like a smart alternative to spears and bows and arrows.”
Niala laughed again, and I blushed so hot I thought my forehead and cheeks might melt. “It doesn’t work like that here,” she said, waving her hand in the air and promising me she wasn’t teasing me. “Everything you see here, everything you experience…it’s all governed by old rules and even older magic.”
“So I’ll be okay with this thing?” I said, holding up the bow like it was a dead animal.
“Think of it like a can of mace, in case someone comes running at you.”
“Great. If only I had this when I got dragged into the alley the other day. I could’ve sprayed a can of arrows in the guy’s face.”
Just then, a nearby door opened, and Callum and two instructors strode out alongside Merriwether, who positioned himself in front of the group of yawning and newly-armed students.
“This morning, you will be working in various stations in the courtyard,” he announced, gesturing to several men and women in gray who’d just come out and begun to set up training stations. “Archers will make their way to the target row in the northeast corner. Swordsmen—and women, of course—will work with our training dummies. Those who want to learn dagger techniques will move onto that lesson when they’ve finished their first round. Now, head to your posts, and let’s begin. Time is of the essence.”
I shot Callum a furtive glance as I started heading toward the row of archery targets. In return, he threw me an almost invisible but reassuring nod before directing his gaze toward a small group of silver-clad boys who were off to the side, grunting under the weight of their thick broadswords. Although I kept a straight face, inside, I was cracking up laughing as I watched the humbled boys sway and stumble, the tips of the huge swords clanging on the ground. I didn’t know much about archery, but if things got dangerous later on, I knew I’d be glad to have a weapon I could actually lift.
With most of the boys still staggering about and teasing each other for their pathetic efforts, the only boy who looked natural with his sword was Crow, who was holding a Tulwar, a curved sword I’d learned yesterday was lightweight despite the fact that it looked heavy and daunting.
Crow swung it around like he knew how to use it, his fierce eyes narrowed with focus. Clearly, he had grown up with a sword in his hand. As he approached the nearest human-shaped target mannequin, he took one swipe at its torso, slicing its burlap tunic in two before arcing the deadly blade around on the backswing and decapitating the helpless dummy.
“Holy crap,” I muttered under my breath. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”
“That’s why you’re wise to keep swordsmen at a distance,” a voice said from behind me. I swung around to see Merriwether looking down at me, his fierce brows low over his eyes. “The secret is to stop them before they can come near you. Or, of course, to evade them entirely—which is a whole other set of skills.”
“And what if I fail at both those things?” I asked.
“Then you’re in trouble.”
The softball in my throat returned, and I stared up at Merriwether, too petrified to form words.
“Would you like to know the secret?” he asked when he saw the look on my face.
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“All right then,” he said softly, bending down so that his face was level with mine. “The secret…”
“Yes?”
“Is to always win.”
With that infuriatingly vague and pointless piece of advice, he walked away.
Suppressing the urge to stick my tongue out at him, I made my way toward the target range, where one of the Zerkers was standing with a short bow and a quiver of blood-red arrows. He shot me a look before pulling an arrow out, setting it expertly, and firing it toward one of the targets.
When it hit dead-center, I nearly succumbed to the temptation to throw down my gear and yell out, “Okay, everyone, it was great to meet you, but I’m out of here!”
“Things are not looking good,” I mouthed. I drew an arrow out of my quiver and tried in vain to position the small opening at its base against the string of my bow. As I struggled, I spotted a tall figure striding up. I could all but feel Callum’s heat as he approached, and I was grateful for the comfort of his presence. Even if I was about to make an idiot of myself.
“Let me help you,” he said softly.
“Do I look like someone who needs help?” I asked as the arrow clattered to the ground at my feet.
“Yes. You really, really do.”
He was holding a bow of his own in hand and drew it in front of his chest before guiding me through the steps.
He began with what he said was called “nocking” my arrow, which meant positioning it so that the bowstring slipped into the small opening carved into the shaft. He showed me how to aim and to position my shoulder and arm at the ideal angle, before finally loosing his arrow at the target.
Like the Zerker’s, his arrow hit dead center.
“Impressive,” I said. “It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”
“A few times, maybe. Now you try.”
I did as he asked, carefully positioning my arrow—a process that took so long a herd of very slow-moving hippos could easily have taken me out before I got a single shot off.
After carefully setting myself up, I fired, missing the target by at least a foot.
“Well, it’s a good thing there wasn’t a baby goat standing next to it,” I said. “Though that would’ve been just my luck.”
The truth was, I wanted to punch a hole in the wall. I wasn’t accustomed to being horrible at anything. And I definitely wasn’t used to being the least talented person in a place full of teenagers.
“Is it frustrating?” Callum asked.
“Is the ocean wet?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, leaning in close. “Chances are, you’ll never use a weapon, Vega.”
“What?”
“Seekers generally don’t. They get a whole team of protectors who go along for the ride. Besides, we don’t really know the extent of your summoning power yet. You may find it’s enough on its own.”
“Still, I’d like to at least be able to pretend I can hit something with an arrow. Right now, I feel like a total doof.”
“Then here, let me show you,” Callum laughed, grabbing another of my arrows and handing it my way.
He sidled up and positioned himself behind me, guiding my hands and arms from behind with his own. If he’d been anyone else, I probably would have snarled at him for patronizing me. But it felt too good to have him standing so close, to have his warmth and size engulfing me as they were. I liked the feeling of his fingers slipping their way down my arm to my hand as he told me what my wrist should be doing. I liked his scent, his voice, his everything.
&n
bsp; But most of all, I liked feeling he had faith in me.
I tried my best to listen to his instructions, though admittedly I was a little distracted by his proximity. It was only when he moved away that I managed to focus my attention on the target. His instruction, it seemed, actually paid off. I was able to hit the outer ring.
“There, you see?” Callum asked, stepping back.
I turned his way to shoot him a smile only to see Merriwether standing in the distance, eyeing us with a stern expression.
“I think the Headmaster suspects we’re closer than we’re meant to be,” Callum said softly. “I’d better see to the others before I get you sent to detention.”
“Wait? They have detention here? I would’ve thought they’d just throw the bad kids into a pit of poisonous vipers or something.”
Callum lowered his chin and shot me a “Really?” look before walking over to the dagger station, where Niala was attacking a target dummy from behind while Rourke, in the form of a snarling hyena, leapt at its throat.
I kept working on my shot, which improved gradually—that was, until it eventually became worse as my arm began to weaken from fatigue.
“Come on, Vega. I’m pretty sure tired arms don’t work as an excuse in war,” I mumbled.
It seemed I wasn’t cut out for combat.
Then again, maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a Seeker at all.
Coaching
We sat down to lunch around eleven A.M. after a grueling morning spent shooting, stabbing and slicing inanimate objects. I found myself seated next to Niala once again, grateful for her and Rourke’s company and for the food I was handed the moment I sat down.
“First sparring session this afternoon,” one of the nearby Zerkers, a boy called Spiker, announced, shooting me a look. “I hope I get to go after Sloane. I’d take her down in three seconds.”
The boy next to him laughed, slapping him on the back as if he’d just come out with some exquisitely witty insult.
I glared at him, lacking as I was in any kind of retort. The truth was, he was right. He probably could kill me with a single punch.
Well, at least he’d be putting me out of my misery.
When we finished eating, we headed back to the courtyard to work on hand-to-hand combat. Lady Gray and Callum coached us, demonstrating maneuvers to employ if ever we found ourselves under attack without weapons.
As they spoke to the group, another young man moved around the courtyard, nailing four posts into place before winding a rope around them to create a sort of makeshift wrestling ring in the center of the outdoor space.
The techniques Callum and Lady Gray demonstrated were impressive and mostly involved either aggressive punching, or else twisting themselves around like pretzels before throwing one another to the floor. They made it all look easy and fluid, but I knew full well that if I’d tried either move on someone their size, I probably would have been swatted away like an irritating gnat.
The first students called up were Crow and a boy called Nevin who was taller than his opponent, but less powerful-looking. From what Niala whispered to me, though, he had a gift for speed, so I supposed their match-up was a relatively fair one.
“Crow is many things,” Niala said, “but fast isn’t one of them.”
As the two boys stepped into the ring, Callum explained the rules to them.
“Your goal for today is merely to incapacitate your opponent—not to injure them. Get them into a helpless position. Pin them for a three-count. You’re here to show the Seekers how it’s done before they have their turn. For those of you who are magic users,” he added, turning to the group of thirteen moderately terrified-looking Seeker Candidates, “You may use your skills. But if one of you tries anything that breaks the Academy’s rules, you will suffer the consequences. This is not the real world. In the real world, you will be contending with Waergs and other beasts. They won’t fight on your terms for a second, so don’t show mercy when the time comes. For now, however, I’d like you to start slow. We’ll have plenty of time over the next week to practice giving and receiving some more serious strikes.”
The only Candidate who didn’t look frightened about what was to come was Freya, the dark-haired girl who looked like she wanted my head on a platter. I could have sworn I smelled bloodlust on her, if such a thing was actually smellable.
Callum backed away, signaling Crow and Nevin to begin, and I watched as the two boys circled inside the ring like animals, sizing each other up for weaknesses.
It was Nevin who lunged first, reaching out long jabs and slashes at Crow, who barely avoided his opponent’s claw-like hands.
Crow threw himself at his opponent’s knees, driving him to the ground before Nevin executed some sort of blindingly fast spinning move, twisting himself free, leaping back to his feet, and darting to the far corner.
Crow wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, already irritated that someone had gotten the better of him. His chin tucked into his chest, his fists coiled in front of his face, Crow moved forward, a predator stalking its prey. Nevin, despite the fact he’d already hit the ground once, didn’t look like he was planning on being anybody’s punching bag.
As Crow unleashed a series of jabs, Nevin ducked, dodged, and weaved as the vicious strikes whistled harmlessly past his head.
With Crow’s right side exposed, Nevin delivered a monster forearm strike followed in quick succession by two stinging jabs to Crow’s rib-cage. Down on one knee, with his head sagging, and clearly shocked by this sudden turn of events, Crow prepared for Nevin’s final strike.
Except it never came.
As Nevin cocked his fist for an uppercut, Crow whipped his leg around, catching Nevin just behind the heel. Nevin cried out and flipped over backwards and, before I could even blink, Crow was sitting on Nevin’s chest, his knees pinning his arms helplessly to the ground, his hands clamped around his exposed throat.
Nevin gave a whimper and a tap to Crow’s leg indicating his surrender. Some of the boys cheered while the others, Nevin-supporters apparently, grumbled and cried foul.
After everyone had calmed down, the other non-Seekers followed in groups of two.
When it came to Niala’s turn, she was up against a Sparker who got two fiery shots off before Rourke, in panther form, incapacitated him by clamping his mouth over both wrists at once and sending the boy into fits of tortured screaming. Niala stood back, examining her nails casually as the crowd cheered.
To my horror, I was the first of two Seekers to be called up. To make matters worse, Lady Gray assigned Freya as my sparring partner.
“But she can throw objects with her mind,” I protested.
“You can summon doors,” Lady Gray replied. “You seem like a perfect match, actually.”
I shot Callum a look, to which he responded with a “What can I tell you?” shrug. He looked relaxed enough, so I told myself not to worry. There was no way he’d let me walk into a situation that was truly dangerous.
Would he?
Freya looked like she was out for blood. My blood. My only hope was to lunge at her fast enough so I could take her down before she managed to get her hands on me.
As we sized each other up, I began the session with a small dash of hope. I circled the ring, forcing her to move with me while I assessed the best way to tackle her. But it wasn’t long before she stopped, a fiendish smile on her lips.
“Bash her head in!” Spiker yelled, to the jeers of his friends.
I spun around just in time to see a large rock flying at my chest. With no grace whatsoever, I flung myself out of the way as the rock went crashing to the ground a few feet away. I winced my eyes shut, all but defeated. Even if I could summon doors at the drop of a hat, there was no way I’d be able to do it fast enough to defend myself against another attack like that.
I was doomed.
Rage worked its way through me as my competitive side kicked in.
“You could have killed me!” I snarled, leaping to my feet
and throwing myself at Freya.
I managed to knock her down before a large metal bucket came barreling through the air and hit me square in the shoulder. I staggered off her and to my right, clutching my left arm in agony.
“I said don’t kill each other!” Callum shouted from the sidelines, but Freya didn’t seem to want to heed his command. As I stared at her, something in my peripheral vision rose into the air, floating some distance away.
Horror worked its way through me as I turned and identified the object as a large mallet.
“Crap!” I blurted out as the mallet began its spinning flight toward me. I didn’t have time to duck or to summon a protective door. All I could do was slam my eyes shut and hope I didn’t die.
One word flashed through my mind in that moment:
“Vanish.”
It was then that two things happened: one, I opened my eyes to see that the mallet had landed on the other side of the ring, and two, a series of horrified gasps rose up around me.
I’ve died, I thought. They’re freaked out because they watched me die.
It seemed, however, I was wrong.
“A Shadow,” one of the Zerkers shouted. “She’s…a freaking Shadow!”
“That’s impossible,” another student said. “The only people who are Shadows are the masters of the Old Magic. This must be something else.”
I turned, staring at the faces surrounding me. Each mouth was open in shock. Every set of eyes was open wide and darting around, scanning the sparring ring. Even my opponent was glancing around, too stunned to continue her onslaught.
“Liam is right,” Lady Gray said, taking a step toward me. “Whether or not it makes any sense, Vega Sloane is a Shadow.”
A sudden movement in a window above the courtyard drew my eyes upwards. I looked up to see Merriwether leaning out one of the narrow windows, staring down into the ring.
He was the only one who didn’t look shocked.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice turning quickly into a sob. “Someone, please tell me what the hell is happening!”
