by Dan Krokos
“What he said,” Mason added.
A slow grin spread across Po’s face. “Fine with me. I’ve been wanting to see you guys in action, anyway.” Po licked his lips, eyes narrowing. “What say we call a truce until only the three of us remain?”
“Sounds good to us,” Mason said.
A stiff, artificial breeze blew through the trees. It ruffled Mason’s hair.
Po smiled. “The game has begun.” He slinked backward, disappearing around the trunk of a tree.
Without speaking, Mason and Tom did the same, moving to the perimeter of the room. They didn’t even have to discuss tactics: six-plus years in the ESC had prepared them, and they already knew how to work as a team.
“You know how to use those things?” Mason said, jerking his chin at Tom’s gloves.
“… In theory. They’re not big on instruction here.”
“Stay close,” Mason said.
From the center of the room, Mason heard the initial sounds of combat: sizzling blasts of low-voltage electricity, a yell, a thump, the cracking of a tree branch, the scrape of fabric against fabric or skin. Mason and Tom hunkered down in the shadows, waiting it out. Every few seconds, a buzzer would sound, which Mason assumed meant someone was knocked out.
This was confirmed a second later, when a Blood charged them from the right. He should’ve had Mason and Tom cold—his gloves were already sparking with red light—but Mason and Tom dived out of the way, circling around the trunks and coming at the Blood from behind. The Blood got a single lance of electricity off, but Mason swiped his hand in front of his own face, as if catching a ball. Mason’s glove fired a tendril that met with the Blood’s, and both streams of electricity veered sideways, cracking into a nearby tree trunk. Before the Blood could fire another shot, Tom stepped forward, dropping into a low stance with one foot forward and firing twin blasts from both palms. The Blood yelped and fell back on his butt, furrowing the soil.
Mason expected the Blood to be angry, but he actually smiled. “Not bad—look out!”
Mason spun, dropping instinctively, getting his hands up in time to meet several fingers of electricity with his outstretched palms.
The fingers wound together, thickening, replicating, until a semisolid wall of light formed between the combatants. Mason didn’t know how many were on the other side. His hands were instantly too hot for comfort, and he felt pressure against his palms, nearly driving him back. He’d been in this situation before with Merrin, atop the cube as it was transforming into the planet-sized gate. That time they’d been fighting full Rhadgast who were trying to kill them, so this should’ve been easy.
Tom was next to him, adding to the wall, their combined electricity braiding together, becoming stronger.
“Throw it up high, on three!” Mason shouted over the crackling. A rogue bolt hit a nearby tree branch, setting it afire. “One, two, three!”
Mason and Tom threw their hands upward, and the wall of electricity lifted along with their hands, dissipating in the branches above, which began to smoke. There was one brief second where Mason could see his attackers clearly, the wall no longer between them, the shadows of violet and crimson electricity fading from his retinas. Two Stones and two Bloods, side by side. Currently, three of them were looking at where the wall of electricity went, confused expressions on their faces: How did that happen?
Mason didn’t waste the opportunity. He clapped his hands together, thinking hard about what he wanted. What he really wanted was to win the free-for-all on his first day, to show his fellow rhadjen that humans were not to be toyed with or taken lightly.
When he clapped his hands, it wasn’t a sword he desired, but a whip. A thick vein of bright red electricity sprouted from his hands, and he swung it from right to left like swinging a baseball bat. The whip lashed all four targets across the chest, driving them back and knocking them out of the fight.
Mason was about to celebrate this fact when someone from behind clamped their hands on the shoulders of Mason and Tom. Neither had a chance to even turn before the sneaky rhadjen squeezed their shoulders, delivering twin blasts that made their legs turn to water. Mason hit the ground hard, right next to Tom, who was struggling to breathe, his lips against the dirt.
Mason blinked blearily until the person above him came into focus.
Lore.
She gave them both a smile before backing up into the shadows. Mason stayed on his side, looking up at the cinders that drifted down around them, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths as the adrenaline turned sour in his veins.
Tom lay next to him, panting. “Not a bad first attempt.”
Mason laughed breathlessly. “We need to work on our situational awareness.” He was content to lie on his back for a while (the soil was quite cool and comfortable), but he jerked upright at the sound of a scream, high and long and garbled with pain.
He’d heard a scream like that before. He would never forget the sound as long as he lived.
It was the scream of someone dying.
Chapter Fifteen
Mason and Tom were on their feet in the next second. Stillness had settled over the trees, as if the remaining combatants had frozen. Then a buzzer sounded, and a shrill voice said, “Leave the arena immediately!”
Bloods and Stones began to drop from the trees and slink between the trunks. Mason was shocked: no one wanted to find out who screamed? Was it a prank? He started toward the sound, but Tom grabbed his wrist.
“Wait,” he said. “We’ve already gotten in trouble once today.”
Mason locked eyes with Tom.
“I can’t believe I just said that,” Tom said. “They sounded hurt.”
They sounded worse, Mason thought. They crept through the trees into the semiclearing, as more rhadjen jogged for the exits. From the canopy above, Mason watched as full-fledged Rhadgast began to drop straight down, landing on one knee and a fist, then flitting away into the trees. He caught glimpses of them circling through the trees toward the source of the scream.
“This is bad,” Mason said.
“What gave you that idea?” Tom said.
“No, I mean something is very wrong.”
Mason followed the Rhadgast across the clearing and into the trees on the other side. He saw slivers of their black robes through the gaps in the trunks. The soil muffled Mason’s and Tom’s approach. It was suddenly very quiet.
Mason rounded a tree trunk slowly, seeing a scrap of black fabric on the ground. Then another, and another, this one smeared with blood. On the ground was a shredded robe with purple accents and red blood, but there was no rhadjen in sight, no body. Four of the Rhadgast stood around the robe, staring at it, clearly puzzled. Two of them wore masks, which glowed red. The other two glowed purple.
“This isn’t possible,” one of the Bloods said.
“Clearly it is,” a Stone replied. “Spread out. Find the owner of these robes.”
“What do we tell the students?” the Blood asked.
That’s when they noticed Mason and Tom standing halfway behind a tree. The Stone made a very unhappy sound in his throat, and they didn’t waste any time. The Stone’s hand shot forward, lightning bursting from his fingers, and Mason barely ducked behind the tree before the lightning shot past his face, making his hair stand up.
They ran.
Mason’s heart was in his throat, and his breath was in his ears, because he was running for no reason. They had been seen, and there was nowhere to go. They couldn’t fight back without being killed.
“Wait!” Mason huffed, knowing there was no chance to escape. Tom was right next to him. “We should surrender.”
“Thank Zeus,” Tom muttered. The two of them spun around, dropping to their knees, and placed their hands atop their heads, fingers interlaced.
An artificial mist had filled the room, probably some automatic effect to make it harder for the students who would’ve survived this long to find each other. The four Rhadgast burst from the mist, the vapor s
wirling around their passing. Mason closed his eyes, expecting them to burn him alive, but they only grabbed him with rough hands and jerked him to his feet.
“We didn’t do anything!” Tom said. “The king said we’re guests. I’m going to have your badge. Do you have badges?”
* * *
Two minutes later they were in Master Zin’s office. It reminded him of Headmaster Oleg’s office, but instead of the barren landscape of Mars through the floor-to-ceiling window, Mason could see deep into the enormous canyon. His office must be right below the refectory.
One Rhadgast remained behind: “Master Zin,” he said, “I ask that these humans be placed under guard in the detention center. One of their teammates is missing, only his clothes were left.” Mason couldn’t see the Rhadgast’s face, just the pulsing violet oval of his mask.
Master Zin raised his eyebrows, one of which was purple, the other red. “You think these two killed a fellow rhadjen and disposed of his body inside the free-for-all room? I find that unlikely.”
Mason liked Master Zin.
“I have a witness,” the Rhadgast said, ignoring the logic bomb Master Zin just dropped.
The door swished open behind them. It was Lore, eyes cast on the floor, refusing to look at Mason or Tom. The world was turning red. Mason clenched his hands together. If Lore lied to make them look guilty …
“Tell them what you told me,” the Rhadgast said to Lore.
“I didn’t—”
“What we talked about,” the Rhadgast prompted.
“They … they were on the other side of the clearing,” Lore said. Her voice was soft, a little shaky. “I knocked them out myself.” She gave a little smile, her fingers working fast on one of her braids that had come loose.
Mason took a breath, feeling a little bad he’d expected her to lie, though it sounded like the Rhadgast had wanted her to do exactly that. Mason gave her a nod, but she ignored it, still not really looking at either of them.
The Rhadgast was taken aback, spluttering for a second, before regaining his composure. “I will see you in my office later.”
“Okay,” Lore said, then turned around and walked out.
Reckful walked in a moment later. “Master, excuse me, is this really necessary? These two are personal friends of Princess Merrin. I’m sure—”
“I am not so old that I forget things so easily, Reck.”
Just hearing her name made Mason’s throat tighten. Princess Merrin. He still couldn’t get over the phrase. Princess? Warrior princess was more like it.
Reckful bowed. “Of course, Master.”
“Nevertheless, there is a violent predator in this school. I want it found and contained, whether it be another student … or something else.”
What else could it be? How would a wild animal have gotten into the school?
“Dismissed,” Master Zin said, and Mason felt his stomach unclench.
Mason turned to find Reck scowling. “It is still your first full day,” he said.
“I know, I swear, we had nothing to do with it.”
“I know that,” Reckful said. “But you didn’t leave the room when you were told. You snuck around like … sneaks! Do you how bad that looks? Is this common practice in the Earth Space Command?”
“No,” Tom assured him. “Mason gets in trouble a lot there, too. He was about to be expel—”
“I’m trying to be good,” Mason said quickly. “Trouble just … well, you know.”
“Finds you?” Reckful said. “I’ve noticed.”
* * *
An assembly was called. The Inner Chamber slowly filled with students, and the teachers counted them one by one. The missing student was not officially revealed, but Jiric was not a part of their group. His name was whispered once or twice. This time, when they were sent away from the Inner Chamber, Mason and Tom followed instructions.
Po canceled their planned meet back in the dorm. No rhadjen were allowed out of the school after dark, not until Jiric was found. Well, they weren’t allowed out at any time unless it was for a class, but with the added security, sneaking out would be impossible. Teams of students (always escorted by a full Rhadgast) were combing the school, looking for any sign of the missing student.
“Why aren’t they saying who it is?” Mason asked.
Po half shrugged. “That’s the way it is. They probably don’t want us to start rumors, even though everyone already knows. Maybe Jiric is just somewhere else.”
“You know he’s not,” Lore said. Her violet eyes were bloodshot.
“We don’t know anything yet,” Risperdel said. “They’ll tell us—”
“They’ll tell us nothing,” Lore said, in a way that left no room for discussion.
“It’ll be better if you guys stay in the room,” Po told Tom. “Everyone knows you didn’t have anything to do with it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not on edge, and, you know—”
“Totally understandable,” Tom said. “No hard feelings.”
Mason was here to figure out if the Rhadgast were developing some kind of secret project that violated the treaty. And now Jiric had disappeared, only his robes and some blood left behind to say he existed in the first place. The two had to be linked in some way. Unless students disappeared all the time, this wasn’t normal.
“I miss Mars,” Tom said next to him, quietly enough so only Mason could hear.
“We’ll be home soon,” Mason said, but he didn’t believe it.
Chapter Sixteen
Juneful came for his revenge two days later.
Classes had continued as normal. Instructors gave the same response when asked about Jiric—I don’t know—until Mason’s team decided to stop asking. Mason still did not get any actual combat training, which his team was clearly becoming grumpy about.
“It’s not your fault,” Po said unconvincingly.
“It kind of is,” Risperdel added helpfully.
Mason knew he was in trouble when Grubare kept Mason after class. Today Grubare had taught physics, an extremely useful subclass since the Tremist had figured out things humans were still trying to, like how to move faster than the speed of light without violating the laws of time and space (Mason was still trying to wrap his head around it).
Staying after class meant he’d be alone on his walk back to the dorm. “Do you want Tom to stay?” Mason asked Grubare.
Grubare rubbed his thumbs over his eyebrows, smoothing them out even though they were at maximum smoothness. “No,” was all he said.
Mason’s team filed out of the room, Tom giving him one lingering look. Tom would wait outside the door for him, Mason was sure of it.
Mason approached Grubare’s desk, which was a large semitransparent object that was a collection of glowing, rolling shapes that shifted between different colors during class. It was incredibly distracting. He sat behind his desk, hands flat on the shimmering surface, the light coming through his pale skin. The gromsh was not in sight.
“I just wanted to see how you’re adjusting to your new surroundings,” Grubare said, looking up at him. “I appreciate your attention in class. You … surprise me.”
Mason was stunned. “Thank you, sir.”
Grubare scanned the room over Mason’s shoulder: they were all alone. “But I would like to make sure it continues. I first thought you were a detriment to this school. A spy.” Mason’s heart gave a hard thump. “That may still be true. But I am open to being proved wrong.”
Mason nodded. “I will do my best. Was there anything else, sir?”
Grubare exhaled in a half sigh. “No, I suppose not. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mason Stark.” He smiled thinly. Mason saw a flicker of light from inside the folds of Grubare’s robe—the glow from one of the gromsh’s eyes. It was staring at him.
Mason found his heart beating faster. Never before had someone wished him a good evening while making it sound like such a threat. He kept me here for a reason. Mason’s suspicion was confirmed a moment later, when he left the
classroom, walked down one hallway, and came face-to-face with Juneful and his three goons.
Chapter Seventeen
Mason did not freeze, even though he wanted to. He simply stopped walking and faced the four Tremist with his hands held loose at his sides. The urge to let his bracers slip down over his fingers was strong and insistent, almost unconscious, like the gloves were ready to do the work for him. But he kept them in place, knowing that if he used his gloves against his fellow rhadjen, he’d get a one-way ticket back to Academy II, or worse.
Mason didn’t say a word, either. He knew it would drive the Stones insane. He just kept his eyes open and free of fear.
“What are you doing out in the halls alone, human?” Juneful said.
Mason kept his lips sealed. It was hard, but he was ESC, and they were not.
“He asked you a question,” Goon One said to Mason’s left. He appeared to be second in command. All of them had black hair, long and loose.
Mason did not open his mouth.
“He must be brain dead,” Juneful said after a moment. “Come on, let’s leave the little human alone before he tells on us.”
Mason remained still as they walked past him on either side, banging their shoulders into his, jostling him. He heard their footsteps pause briefly after passing him, and that’s when he knew the attack was coming after all. Mason bent at the waist violently, feeling air swish over his neck as one of the Tremist failed to strike the back of his head. In the same movement, Mason mule-kicked straight back and caught something soft—a stomach, he thought—and was rewarded with the sound of breath exploding from lungs—“oof!”—followed by a thump as one of them hit the floor.
That left three. Which was still a lot. Mason felt the adrenaline dump, as his blood became hot and his ears burned and his eyes became hyperfocused, the pupils jacking wide to take in more light.
But the other three weren’t your regular bullies; they were Rhadgast trainees. As Mason spun, they caught him by the arms and walked him back against the wall. An elbow smacked him in the nose and his vision blurred with tears. He tasted blood on his lips. Tom, I need you!
