Shadow Walker (Neteru Academy Books)

by L. A. Banks

  She felt like she’d been walking for two miles and was surprised when she and Titan Troy passed the gym. Surely they’d gone much further than that. Frowning Fae were touching up the mural and drying the floor with mops that seemed much too big for them to wield. As she passed, they gave her the evil eye and let out small grunts of annoyance.

  Well past the boiler room, Titan Troy led her to a heavy, locked steel door that had a spinner handle like the old movie images she’d seen of bank vaults and submarine hatches. After entering a code on a side panel and waiting for huge tumblers to fall into place, he set down his sword and shield on the floor, then gripped the thick spindles and turned, straining the muscles in his massive back, arms and thighs.

  Spellbound, Sarah just watched in awe. The amount of strength it required to open the door, even once unlocked, was incomprehensible. Finally the spinner moved clockwise. When the door opened, six feet of steel swung away from the wall, revealing a long iron staircase that seemed to extend without end in both directions.

  “Let me lead the way into the darkness,” Titan Troy said in a somber voice. “I must light a torch—as this beast we seek abhors fire, it may have taken refuge in the emergency exit tunnel.”

  Sarah watched mutely as he turned over his shield and revealed a cleverly attached length of wood that had been wrapped at one end with what looked like a tar-dipped sheet. Working quickly, he extracted a long stick match that had been bundled with it and struck it against his jaw stubble.

  Oh, yeah, she definitely had to catalogue this experience to tell the gang. He’d lit a match off his face? OMG!

  Torch in hand, he tossed her his shield as he picked up his sword. She caught the large metal disc and fell.

  “Ow!”

  The thing weighed what felt like a ton. He let out a hard breath, set down his sword and then came over to hoist his shield over his shoulder and yank her up off her butt before picking up his sword again.

  She silently vowed not to lag too far behind him as the door slammed shut and the spinners automatically whirred back into a locked position. If she hadn’t been able to see in the dark, she would have screamed for sure.

  Five stories up at a Titan’s pace, with only a small L-turn to break the upward trajectory, her thighs were burning, her chest felt like it was about to explode, and her eyes were watering from the fiery fumes of his torch. This was crazy.

  Finally they stopped and he passed her the torch.

  “Stand back,” he ordered. “Entering the upworld from below is always dangerous.” He punched in another code and grunted as he unlocked a round steel hatch, waited a moment as he readied his shield and blade, and then flung open the heavy hatch. Then he was gone.

  Sarah froze, holding the torch out like it was a weapon. Cold mountain air rushed in and made her shudder. She listened hard, then slumped against the railing when she saw Titan Troy’s face peering over the edge at her. He offered her a huge hand; she offered him the torch. He sighed and smiled, then simply lifted both her and the torch together with one quick pull of her forearm.

  She landed on her feet, and he caught the torch before she set her hair ablaze, then locked the door.

  “You will be strong one day, wee one,” he said with a smile. “You come from good stock. Just remember, there are all kinds of strength—physical is just one kind.”

  He stood and looked off into the distance, and she followed his line of vision. On the other side of a football field and outdoor track, she could see what looked like a long barn surrounded by several smaller buildings, a grain silo and a large penned-in pasture area. Sarah whirled around, shivering. There was nothing else as far as her eyes could see but green grass, plowed rows and haystacks.

  “We must not keep Mr. Milton waiting. I believe you have five minutes, and then you will be late for detention, earning you another.”

  Titan Troy didn’t have to tell her twice. In a flat-out dash behind him, she ignored the catch in her side, ignored the breath that wouldn’t come, and just ran. The moment she passed the entrance gate, a pair of blue flannel-clad disembodied arms unfolded from the air, bringing her to a skidding, screaming halt.

  “Whoa, young filly—hold your horses. You will have my stables in an uproar if you’re not careful.”

  Titan Troy simply looked at the floating arms and chuckled. “This one is high-strung, Milt. I’ll wait over on the house porch…let you take it from here.”

  “Help yourself, the missus is up—couldn’t sleep. She’s got breakfast going.”

  “None of us can rest until the contagion is resolved and the missing are found,” Titan Troy said. “Mrs. Hogan will not be overburdened attempting to feed me this morning?”

  “No, no trouble at all—for her, it’s all magic.”

  “Thank you, I am honored,” Titan Troy said with a deep bow.

  Sarah placed a hand over her heart as a squat little man in a blue flannel shirt and denim overalls fully materialized, scratching his beard. Bushy red hair covered most of his round face. He chewed on a corncob pipe and wore a cap that partially covered his mostly bald scalp. Smiling, he looked up at Sarah and simply shook his head.

  “I’d be Milton Hogan, but most students call me Mr. Milton. Hmmm, lemme see,” he said, pulling out small scraps of paper from his overall pockets and creating colorful confetti as he simply let his notes fall to the ground. “Oh, I know you—you’re Miss Tittle’s homeroom tantrum.” He clucked his tongue and did a little jig. “Three minutes late on the first day of homeroom and had the nerve, gall and unmitigated audacity to bear fangs. My, my, I like ‘em feisty.”

  “Sir, the fangs were an accident…I can’t really control them like I should yet. I’m a Blend and a Shadow and sometimes, well…I just don’t have my act together yet.”

  “Ahhh, yes, a Shadow. I heard,” he said with a wink. “Impressive.” Then he waved off her explanation, beginning to walk and forcing her to follow him. “Ah, Miss Tittle, flaming old hen—she’s enough to make a Regular bare fangs, no worries. Three minutes and detention. I get so tired of that dreadful shrew, but that’s just between us.” He looked over his shoulder and gave Sarah another wink. “Stables detail is far from the worst of it, if you can stand the smell. The beauty in here and the freedom of being outdoors would send more students my way, if they could only look through the manure to find the pot of gold buried in it.”

  Three feet from the barn the wind shifted, and Sarah covered her mouth and nose with her forearm. Her eyes watered, and her stomach lurched. “Ohhhh, maaan.”

  Mr. Milton just shook his head and opened the massive doors with a wave of his hand. “Kids today,” he muttered, walking briskly into the center of the huge structure.

  Proud as could be, he bowed and opened his arms. “Welcome to the Pegasus and Unicorn stables. This is a rare treat, even if you’re shoveling manure. You will never see any finer creatures in all creation.”

  Soft whinnies and snorts greeted Sarah as she moved farther into the barn. Beautiful, curious, shining eyes and noses peered over wooden doors, and she laughed, dropping her arm, no longer focused on the pungent aroma.

  “They are sooo pretty,” she said, going from stall to stall. “Look at them!”

  “I think they like you, too, lassie, which is a real fine thing indeed. They know good souls.” Mr. Milton walked over to a stall and opened it, ushering out a gleaming white stallion with marble blue eyes and wings folded tightly against his body. “This would be Sir Brandon. Please, Sir, would you bow for milady?”

  The horse whinnied and opened up its majestic thirty-foot wingspan, then went down on one knee.

  Sarah gasped and covered her mouth as she started up at the impressive beast. “He’s spectacular,” she murmured in awe. “I’ve heard of them, but I never thought I’d get to see one.”

  “Aye, today you’ll definitely have a gander at more than one,” Mr. Milton said, rubbing the horse’s nose and giving him a small sugar treat from his pocket. The horse stoo
d, then reared on his hind legs and came down with a thud. “Look at his hooves—clad in pure silver…shod by the same blacksmith that crafted Excalibur. King Arthur commissioned him to us after the last war, and Merlin brought him to us himself. Now that was a very special day indeed!”

  “Whoa…”

  Mr. Milton walked the horse back to his stall. “Agreed. That is why me and me groomsmen place such honor in taking care of them.” He opened his arms again, motioning toward the eager noses that whinnied for him with joy. “These are my babies. Each one was a Neteru King or Queen’s favorite. Come,” Mr. Milton urged. “This beauty belonged to Queen Aset, and this warhorse was the charger who bore King Ausar.”

  Sarah stepped back as Mr. Milton brought out two huge beasts with silver eyes and hooves set against snowy white, glistening coats. The sound of several stalls being kicked made him smile. “Yes, this is Neteru Damali and Neteru Carlos’s daughter.” Mr. Milton winked at Sarah. “They know you—you’re a celebrity.”

  “How do they know me?” she asked, laughing and pleased.

  “They will only allow a Neteru to mount them, and they know your smell. It’s regal, carried in your blood. These animals have highly developed senses of smell and loyalties.” He motioned toward her with a quick whistle, and both massive creatures strode up to her and sniffed, then nuzzled her. “Miss Tittle, for all her histrionics, did you a favor, lassie. You got to see something that most students don’t.” Waving his hands, he laughed and shooed away the curious creatures. “Back in your stalls, no fussing and that’s that.”

  Once he had them put away, Mr. Milton turned around and smiled. “I have Queen Eve’s mare and King Adam’s stallion, too. Oh, my, my, my, there is no stable like this in all the world.”

  “But don’t they get bored? Don’t they like to fly?” Sarah asked, feeling suddenly and inexplicably sad for the magnificent creatures confined here.

  “Aye, I do imagine they get bored sometimes, when once they would ride into Hades or into earthbound battles with a warrior of light on their backs to right wrongs and heal injustice, and now…they deliver vegetables.”

  “Deliver vegetables?” Sarah frowned as she considered what seemed like such a waste of potential.

  “It is perilous business these days, to be sure.”

  “Huh?” Sarah scratched her head. “I don’t get that part.”

  “Come,” he said. “I’ll help you understand.”

  He walked ahead of her quickly to the far end of the barn and then opened a stall. Inside was an opalescent white unicorn whose coat caught the barn light in pinks and blues and golds, depending on which direction she turned. A small golden pile sat in the far corner of her stall, and she darted back and forth nervously until Mr. Milton quieted her with soft clicks of his tongue and a bribe of sugar.

  “They are so shy and so high-strung,” he murmured, petting the animal’s silky mane. “But they eat grass and return gold,” he said with a nod. “Add that to compost and to what the Pegasus horses leave, and you can grow anything in any soil conditions. They bring dead soil back to fruitfulness to revive and resurrect the cycle of life. Our unicorns were the cornerstone of our ability to reestablish this hidden valley, and our Pegasus cavalry are trained warhorses. I’ll show you Hannibal’s stallion in a moment. He’s a real monster—snorts fire, ready at all times for battle—and that’s what we need. Strength like that that can fly in under the radar to the towns on the other side of the dead zone.”

  Mr. Milton backed out of the stall and closed the door behind him. “We glamour the Pegasus wagons so no one can see the wings, and we look like the Amish.” He sighed when she gave him a blank stare. “You will learn about them in history, but they’re peaceful people who never modernized, so they were able to live off the land without being connected to the power grid—so those who survived the war and floods, earthquakes and pestilence, had the skills to rebuild log cabins, sow and plow fields. Unlike most modern humans, they knew how to work with their hands.

  “We use the Fae glamour to take what we cannot use at the Academy to help the local Regulars in the small towns below. Sometimes we take Upper Sphere students on field trips for good behavior. We also trade with the townsfolk—food for wool and linens and other goods. We’re also occasionally called upon to send airlift support to dug-in Guardian units, and only a Pegasus is strong enough for that vital and dangerous work.”

  “That is very, very cool, Mr. Milton.”

  He beamed at her. “Yes, indeed, it is very cool, lassie. But I bet this is cooler.” He hustled down the rows until he reached almost the end stall and tossed a large hunk of apple over the door. “Stand back,” he warned, and then undid the latch. “This is one stall only me and the boys clean.”

  A gigantic, crimson warhorse burst out, standing eight feet at the withers and pawing the earth with golden hooves. Fire blasted from his nose, and his eyes glowed golden. Then he whinnied and reared on his hind legs, his sixty-foot wingspan casting a shadow inside the entire barn.

  “Down, Sophocles!” Mr. Milton ordered. “Don’t make me call King Hannibal—you act nice for this young lady.”

  The horse came down off his hind legs, snorted hard several times, and pranced back and forth, agitated.

  “He can’t help it. His sole purpose was to ride into battle, with or without a rider—that’s how smart he is. This was Hannibal’s favorite mount, and he rode this magnificent creature right into the second battle of Masada to battle the devil’s wife, Lilith.”

  At the mention of the demon’s name, the horse reared and blasted the barn floor with fire.

  “No, no, she’s vanquished and he’s missing in action,” Mr. Milton said, throwing another apple, which the giant beast caught in the air and swallowed whole. “Come on, back ye go.” After several attempts, the red Pegasus finally relented. “They’re all very sensitive and very attuned to environmental stress,” Mr. Milton said, placing one finger to his lips. “The mention of certain entities that should go nameless just makes them ready for war.”

  Sarah signed that her lips were sealed, and Mr. Milton nodded approvingly.

  “Normally, when a student comes in for detention, my groomsmen walk the animals all out to the pasture so they can fly a bit—they know not to venture far—and I feed and water them while the unlucky student gets a dolly and a shovel. That way, neither the student nor our babies get hurt. But today, given that there’s something running wild that would love to get hold of one of our horses, we’ll wait till the sun is up and the moon is down before we turn them loose in the pasture, so we’ll see… maybe you caught a break. I need to think on that a spell.”

  He pointed to a long flatbed hand truck on wheels, which had a long manure trough and a big metal snow shovel on it. Somehow, just seeing that took a lot of the enthusiasm for the beautiful creatures out of Sarah’s soul, but she tried to smile and be a good sport. What she’d just witnessed really had been totally awesome.

  “Yeah, I know,” Mr. Milton said, chuckling behind his unlit pipe. He stuffed it with aromatic cherry tobacco, but didn’t light it and just drew on the flavor as he walked, motioning with his chin for Sarah to follow him.

  “Ah… sense and sensibilities. Dung is so underrated and so reviled, but it’s a vital part of the cycle of life, lassie. You will come to appreciate the lesson in being faced with a pile of crap one day. Makes you strong. “

  “Horse doo-doo makes you strong? C’mon, Mr. Milton,” she said, laughing as she followed him.

  “The pot of gold at the end of our Fae rainbows was always unicorn puckey—because what foolish humans never seemed to understand was that gold is nothing but a conductive metal or a rate of exchange when you have a monetary system—but what happens when that is gone? What is of value is what makes the trees turn green and bear beautiful, succulent fruit, and the crops grow. In times of pestilence, clean, clear brooks and mountain streams are worth a king’s ransom—you can’t live off metal, but manure and good ear
th can save a man’s life. Fertilized fields are mother earth’s perfume,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “Took three world wars, famine and the Armageddon for them to figure that out.”

  He stopped at a stall and leaned in. “This one, like her daddy, is a little different.” He chuckled deeply when the animal inside objected by kicking the sides of the stall. “Littlest thing in the stable, as Pegasus horses go… and feisty, but she’s my favorite.”

  As Sarah neared the stall to look in, a loud kick made her draw back.

  “Go ahead. She’s just testing you. This one is a wee bit scary, but she’s smart as a whip, gifted.”

  Sarah swallowed hard and stepped up to the stall. Staring back at her was the prettiest chestnut mare she’d ever seen. A pair of big brown intelligent eyes studied her with curious disdain. But the horn really threw her for a loop.

  “She has wings and a horn that changes colors under the light!” Sarah exclaimed, as the animal backed up to the far wall.

  “Aye. She’s a hybrid. A mix of old Sophocles—who we didn’t realize still had a bit of young buck in him—and of one of our unicorn mares. Normally that doesn’t happen, but I guess the old boy was too eager to resist. Most often the unicorn stallions give the Pegasus lads a run for their money with the mares, but none of ‘em wanted to mess with Red.”

  “I can see why not,” Sarah said, glancing down the row of stalls.

  A loud bang farther up the aisle made Mr. Milton laugh. “Settle down, old boy,” he called. “We know you’ve still got run of the pasture.”

  Sarah covered her mouth and laughed. The barn wasn’t so different from the student caf.

  “Come, take a good look,” Mr. Milton said, opening the stall. “That’s my Peggi in there. The Peg part of her name is in homage to her Pegasus father, and the little I at the end, instead of a Y, is for her unicorn mum. Leaves pure gold-spun manure in her stall, and she’s a flier, too—just never allows anyone to mount her. Wild, she is. We can’t let her out of the pen too often because if she ran away, we’d be heartbroken—not to mention she could lead disaster right to our door because she doesn’t understand all the rules of concealment yet.”