by Marc Mulero
“Crow, stop,” she protested while being held back by the other kid that was with the offender. “Get off!” She struggled to break free.
Eres rolled onto his back so he could get a clear look at the boy who had just blindsided him. Skin so pale that blue veins running up his neck became the focal point. They matched eyes that were haughtily narrowed in scrutiny and clashed with dark black hair that hung over his lashes. As Eres tried to rise, Crow stepped closer as if to say, “I dare you.”
A hundred thoughts raced through his mind – what to say, what to do. He’d never been needlessly provoked like this. All that could be done was to reach back into scenarios in books that he’d read, how his heroes would respond to something so sudden.
Clenched fists loosened, and he let himself rest on his elbows instead of bouncing back up. In place of charging the kid in a fit of rage, he lied while showcasing his bruises, “Toughen me up for what? Can’t you already see that I’ve wrestled with what roams in Dolseir?”
A scoff was followed by a sardonic grin that crept up Crow’s face. “You expect me to believe that you, a smooth innocent-faced fawn that looks as though this is your first suns-rise, stood against bocktali, sans, and jovo?”
Eres quickly found that he wasn’t very good at pretending to be strong, and dialogue between enemies didn’t seem to be molded in the way that it was in his books, to favor the hero. His small stint of confidence was rapidly draining, and his perception of Crow’s grew in the inverse.
“I give you permission. Get up new blood, let’s see what color you bleed.”
“Crow!” Windel’s voice warned.
He turned mockingly to her before addressing Eres. “There are no proctors here to save you. Let’s see what you’re worth.” His eyes punishingly followed Eres as he rose back to his feet and dusted off his clothes.
“That’s because we’re supposed to be mature enough not to act like idiots!” Windel shouted in between grunts.
Eres thought to himself, maybe I can use my impeller as a weapon, to blow this kid back where he came.
He stared at the one called ‘Crow,’ raising his fists. It was curious that he’d call Eres dainty, because they were of similar body type. Sure, his pale arms had more indents outlining muscle, probably a more practical type, but they had to be within ten pounds of each other. Crow’s hair flickered when he blinked, vibrant blue eyes darkened as his face hardened with determination, and his bounce back and forth made it appear that he’d been fighting his entire life.
This boy did not have grace or any of the virtues that Lorfa had preached. But Eres remembered what he was made of. He stood still, refusing to be provoked, learning much about himself in these quick moments - not quick to temper, not too scared about being pummeled, not a good liar, and not about to back down.
“Well, you coming?” Crow antagonized. “I’ll give you the first punch.”
I can’t betray my promise, and showing these people that I have an impeller would be a terrible mistake. I just have to suffer through this. My first fight… on my first day at Kor.
Eres dropped his bag and stood still. “I want nothing to do with you. Hasn’t your mota taught you? If you want something, come and get it.” He had no idea where he pulled that from or why, but Windel stopped struggling and looked on with bulging eyes.
His heart felt like it was pounding in his throat as Crow charged head on. Flinching and throwing his fists into an X to protect his face, Eres peeked through squinted eyes to see that Crow withdrew the punch aimed at his nose, pivoted, and threw a much harder jab into his side.
Eres fell into it, feeling the sting pulse up his entire ribcage, all the while the wind flew out of his nose and mouth. Before he could even try to breathe, an elbow cracked him hard in the jaw.
A crowd was starting to form around them at that point, quiet chatter spreading between most kids, and others inching closer with hands covering their mouths.
“Looks like mota taught me more than you,” Crow sneered. “Up, up. Come on now, new blood. We can’t let our audience down!”
Eres grimaced as he rose slowly back to his feet, one arm crossed over his side to protect his fresh wound, the other raised into a tightly packed fist. He eyed Windel to see glassy trembling irises looking back, and then found something boiling in him that he’d never felt before.
Crow struck again, his loose short sleeves flapping around as his fist rounded towards Eres’ cheek, but this time it found nothing but air. Eres ducked the blow and rammed his shoulder into Crow’s chest, knocking him back and causing him to choke on his breath.
The gasp and cheer from those around him were short-lived though, because now Crow was angry, and his instincts proved to be much more attuned for duels. He stumbled back, ending with one foot planted deep in the dirt to cut Eres’ momentum short and the other snapped up to knee the Dawn in the stomach. He then tossed Eres back like he was some inanimate dummy, and crack. His spinning kick caught Eres so hard in the head that it sent him face first into the grass, dirt and greenery puffing into the air.
Eres shuddered, feeling sharp pains shooting everywhere, the hard soil pressing against his face.
I should just lay here… if I get up, this won’t go anywhere goo-
Then suddenly, he felt his back spasm and bile rise up from his stomach. What was this pain, like a steel hoof had just stomped through his back? It was Crow, of course. He front-flipped high before landing a heavy heel on his spine.
The chatter around them rose to a higher octave, ending with Crow upright and walking away, wiping his hands clean.
“That was fun.” Crow smirked at the guy holding Windel back and then beckoned her. “The crowd got a satisfying show.”
Windel shook her head. “Not only did you just give Vinsánce a bad rep, but look at the eighth window up… you’re going to get yourself expelled.”
The two of them glanced up to see a man with long scraggily hair falling past his pointed chin. His cloak hung low to the floor like a priest’s robes, only there was nothing godly about it. Quite the opposite actually. He looked menacing. Every darkened aspect of him was frowning: the corners of his mouth, the lines in his cloth, hair. Everything. Demeanor told a different story though. Hands authoritatively clasped behind his back, head slightly turned so his good eye didn’t miss a thing, and a large brow shadowing most of his cheeks… it all painted an eerie, clear picture of a terribly dark presence. Obviously, someone not to call attention to.
“That’s right, you idiots, Proctor Wudon…” Windel warned.
These short seconds of distraction gave Eres the time needed to make sure he could still breathe, and that all of his limbs were in some kind of working order. With that, he struggled back to his feet, bruises and fresh wounds painting him like an Ombes storm.
The crowd suddenly went silent, beckoning Crow’s gaze away from the window, back to the new blood who wouldn’t stay down.
“Not smart. You should know when to play dead.” Crow almost appeared concerned at how bad his opponent looked.
A scrape ran up his lip, giving the illusion that he was smirking, a blue blotchy mark bubbled up around the point where his jaw was struck, and his legs were trembling with weakness, but still he stood, taking the unwarranted punishment like a cadet in the marines.
Crow shook his head and dashed forward with the intent to ensure that this boy would not get up again. On his last long step, right before he would have connected with Eres, a blur came out of nowhere and speared Crow, hard. The figure stopped short, but Crow kept going, falling back onto the floor and banging his head against the dirt.
The crowd gasped again as all eyes stopped on the girl who stood with her head held high, inches away from Eres. She had a suit unlike any of the others – lined with black and purple that echoed the vibrant streaks in her half-braided hair. She appeared the same age as the boys dueling, but something was different… Crow looked fit to Eres minutes ago, but that thought had faded, for this one
’s skin-tight wear showed nothing but shredded muscle twisted around bone, ending with a V-shaped bulgy neck that held up a defined jaw.
She looked down on Crow like he was vermin, and he looked back with a face distorted by anger, knowing that he was no match for her, and he had lost the crowd.
“This… fragile fansa accepted no duel of yours.” She motioned to Eres with even more disgust.
“It’s initiation to Kor, Nuganzia, so mind your business,” Crow spat.
“And this is intervention.” She stepped forward to the floored boy, who unintentionally crawled back one pace. “I know of no such tradition.”
The crowd began to hype up around the vibrant girl, which made Crow feel defeated and betrayed, his worst fears come true.
Eres’ breathing began to slow, hair covering most of his face as he dipped forward to coddle his wounds. “Thank you,” he whispered to Nuganzia.
She turned to him with disgust written on her face. “Useless. Weak. All I see is someone who had been pointless enough to be prey for his entire life, and then dumb enough to simulate courage without anything to back it. This nuisance may be right.” She pointed to Crow. “You should know when to play dead. Pathetic!”
Nuganzia twitched toward Crow as if she was going to attack him, causing him to flinch in response. She then grinned, satisfied of the mockery made out of injustice before turning her back on the both of them. And as she did, Windel came running past her and grabbed Eres’ arms.
“Screw you, Zia,” Crow spat again.
Windel shook her head and said, “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should’ve warned you that not everyone believes in peace around here.” She eyed his extra bruises and scrapes, exhaling with relief when she didn’t find any severe wounds.
“I think I get Crow… he’s just an asshole… but what’s with her?”
“Oh Mustae, she’s a Swul, and so is that guy, Teros.” She motioned to a boy with a red-lined suit and matching maroon Mohawk, similar to Zia’s getup. “Not everyone here is Umboro, and not everyone possesses grace.” She shot a begrudging glance at Zia. “They’re very difficult to deal with. All they think of is battle, strategy, being the best, despising the weak… well, you get it.”
“I’m not weak,” Eres defended himself.
“No, no, no, I wasn’t sugges-”
He snatched his arm back, feeling even lower than before.
“Eres… I thought you were brave. Don’t listen to that bitch, Nuganzia. People don’t usually get up after getting bullied by Crow.” She wrapped her arm around his. “C’mon, let’s go get you a syllabus and find Mun.”
Eres didn’t even think to ask who Mun was, nor did he protest Windel dragging him out from the crowd. His only thought was on the touch of her skin around his arm. Pain subsided. Sparks flew, a cool sensation ran up and down his skin from the softness of her body.
All of this was an information overload – within hours he’d been caught up on what it meant to have peers his age, what attraction may mean, to have enemies, to be beaten in front of a crowd, and the tornado of pain and emotion that came along with it. But for reasons unknown, the experience felt worth it. He was happy, remorseful that he hadn’t started sooner, confused as to how valuable or useless his ooma’s teachings would prove here. So far, it seemed that he was starting at ground zero in terms of anything practical, and it didn’t instill much confidence.
Eres’ mouth hung open as soon as he was admitted through the front door of the Elite Wing. Older students ran up walls and spun off onto their chosen floors, their boots making hissing noises after every stride. A proctor with a tightly wrapped bun of white hair that spilled out at the ends stood over a ledge, whipping designs into existence that lingered like a sparkler in the night. The marks traveled through the air, out past the center circular window until finally bursting like firecrackers once making it outdoors. It was a show for Meeting Day. A celebration of progress. Younger kids around him bustled with excitement to start the new term, and he too, was eager to begin his first.
The crowd was thicker at the entrance, where Windel kept her chain link alive by clasping her hand with Eres’ – something that he thought he could never get used to.
“Excuse me, Doggen. Nice to see you, Baro.” She slapped five with a tall boy before moving past him, and then turned back. “Here we are, Eres. Talk to the proctor’s assistants on the left. They have the sixty forty options that we spoke about, and we should be somewhat in line for year-seven. Future Skrols and Carriers both have to pick up History of War Tech, Ingora and its spheres, and The Fire that Smelted the Factions. Talk to Creela, she’s nice.” Windel smiled comfortingly at him before dragging him past the last few bodies blocking their admittance and up to a panel of beaming PA’s.
He thought about telling her that he’d already read The Fire that Smelted the Factions, but then questions sprouted in his head, in her voice, of what she might ask next. Why would you read that at home? Surely an orphanage wouldn’t promote dangerous professions. A house mother suggested a book with Fire in it? Anything leading to questions about his heritage or his secret was better left unsaid. But then he wondered if this was just paranoia, not knowing how yet to navigate the waters of discretion. All he knew was one thing - secrets were exhausting.
Creela grimaced when Eres approached as though she experienced his pain for him. “Your arms… may I escort you to a healer?” She stood abruptly with a hand held out.
Eres backed up and shook his head just enough for her to see. “I’m fine, tornae,” he thanked her in Umboro and hoped that she would stop making a scene.
“O… okay.” Creela pursed her lips and tucked her waist-length robes flat so she could sit back down. “What’s your name?”
“Eres.”
“Last name?”
He shook his head, thinking whether or not he should explain his story, but then realizing that would make him appear suspicious. “Just Eres.”
Creela frowned further, though tried to hide it. “How can I help you, Just Eres.” She giggled to try and make the rest of their meeting light.
“I’d like a year-seven, sixty academic, forty practical syllabus with exploratory options as well as tactical.”
“Seems like you have the courage to handle such a request,” Creela complimented while sifting through various piles in front of her. “Ah, here we are.”
Eres stared at two rings of a scroll that Creela had unraveled to block her face. She pressed her finger into certain spots within the parchment and then rolled it shut to reveal a look of delight. “I’ve highlighted a few hints of importance, considering that you’re new here.” She winked. “Good luck, Eres. I hope to see you in my wing this term.”
Not knowing if there was a formal way to thank her for such kindness, he bowed awkwardly and turned to see Windel brandishing her own syllabus in a teasing manner.
“All good? C’mon, let’s get out of the crowds so we can compare.” Windel lightly grabbed the back of Eres’ arm to guide him out of the way. “Mun should be meeting us in the west corner of the Elite Wing shortl-“
Eres abruptly jumped out of Windel’s grasp upon seeing what looked to be a tall lanky being running on all fours, headed straight for them. Its back was arched like a hyena, twisted locks of hair bouncing on his head and down his back, peeking through his loose shirt. Before his thoughts could catch up to him, he was sure his mind was playing tricks. This thing looked as though it was raised in the Dolseir forest.
Windel chuckled. “Never saw a Dagos before?”
He was speechless for a second, and then relaxed once seeing that she wasn’t startled. “O… only read about them.”
Steps before crashing into them, the Dagos stopped in its tracks, skidding on all fours across the smooth floor like it was nearing the edge of a cliff, causing Eres to step back hesitantly. Was it going to pounce on them? He really didn’t know what to expect at all. But then it began to rise onto two legs, its body hunched over and shoulde
rs rolling inside of their sockets to finally lock in place with a click.
Eres winced at the sounds, and then tilted his head at the strange visual of loose skin tightening while bones jumbled around beneath it. A transformation was occurring right before Eres’ eyes - one where a creature molded into a uemon form. And when its neck straightened and torso adjusted, the metamorphosis was complete. It all happened in a flash, sure, but it was so bizarre that Eres was left wondering long after it was done.
A gangly hand finally reached out. “You look like you’ve never been outside of Ombes before.” He greeted Windel quickly, and then rounded back to the dumbfounded boy. “Mundella.”
“Erm… Eres.” He offered his delicate hand and then backed away.
Mundella squinted at his face like he noticed something other than the scratches, but thought better of asking any questions. “Crow got to you, huh? Or was it Idgen?”
“Good on the first guess.” Windel rolled her eyes. “This is Eres’ first time at Kor… he’s a year-seven, like us, shooting for Skrol status.”
Mundella’s eyes protruded. “And I thought I was ambitious.”
“Does it hurt when…” Eres pointed to Mun’s shoulders.
He laughed in response. “No! It’s our bone structure. It’s the same feeling as you would have cracking your knuckles. Our joints weather faster if we change too much, but who cares, I’m young.”
“This guy is going to need a cane by the time he’s twenty.” Windel nudged.
“Says the Carrier who probably won’t be alive to see it!”
“Mustae forbid! Jerk!” Windel laughed.
Eres couldn’t help but smile. Witnessing a nurtured friendship of others his age warmed his body, something he wished to one day have.
“Shall we head to your favorite dwarf tree patch? We have our syllabuses… that’s really the only requirement for today.”
“Syllabi.” Windel held up a finger and arched her eyebrows.
