by Marc Mulero
They sat there in silence for too long, until the flame to Wudon’s right flickered.
“To my left,” he said matter-of-factly, obviously annoyed.
Eres sighed and gripped the branch harder, but nothing else came, just the brief fleeting feeling that he had grown another limb that wiggled the wrong flame before it dissipated like the fog.
After some time, Wudon arose to have his throne slink back into the ground. “The All-Mother has not cast so much as a glance in your direction. You are ignored, and deservingly so. Your mind is not meant for this. It is to ponder other things. I cannot alter your nature, boy, but perhaps you can still learn. Rise, Eres the Detached.”
Eres begrudgingly did so, his jealously of Crow peaking. “What did he do that earned him the right to be in the participant’s circle?”
Wudon cleared a path of vines and roots so they could walk toward a tower-sized window, the branches unfurling from its center.
As the blades of moonlight slashed across the proctor’s face, the candles extinguished in a puff of smoke.
“So stuck on the boy that tortures you,” Wudon said cryptically. “You will remain in his shadow if you bend to his taunts.”
He limped over to find the window’s ledge and rested a heavy elbow to remove weight from his leg, Eres looking up to him for an answer despite the advice.
“Very well. Crow extinguished each flame in proper order, almost immediately.”
“That’s it-” Eres tried to finish before he was cut off.
“And relit them in reverse order,” Wudon finished.
Eres was speechless. He was the lesser. It was certain now. Crow was a better fighter, had real talent in d, and was true to himself, not some lame imposter.
“Now to your knowledge of Roots. Perhaps there’s a chance for you to impress me.”
Eres was confident here, no matter how sad he was. Figuring things out and knowing history was as easy to him as Reach probably was for Crow.
“Arkinus Wulbrite is known for what?” Wudon said evenly, his eyes analyzing the boy for insecurities.
“Creator of Arkinite – the most robust metal in Ingora, mended from materials buried in the Verglas Sphere. Arkinite weaponry is known to house Crule most effectively.”
Proctor Wudon gave no inkling of assuredness, just continued on. “What theory connects Gushda and Rudo?”
“The theory of Sindah,” Eres responded without hesitation, “which is the idea that if you surrender your attachment to the senses, the physical world, Rudo, then you can tap into the All-Mother’s connections through Gushda, the Eternal World, and extend your connection to nature, and return to Rudo with extensions gifted from Gushda.”
His answer was perfectly technical, but Wudon didn’t so much as flinch.
“What are the Skrols said to protect?”
“A secret broken apart by the First Seer, said to be so critical to our purpose on the spheres of Ingora that, if we knew it, our entire way of life could be undone. The Skrols trust in the decision of the First Seer and keep espers separate so the secret can never be fully seen.”
Wudon’s eyes narrowed. “Seen?”
“Experienced, through combined espers. Only small pieces are floating within each esper. If worn together, it is said to be like a completed puzzle, and the secret would be felt immediately.”
Wudon pushed off of the windowsill and moved away from the moonlight, limping toward the front doors that began to creep open. “With me, boy.”
The fog became encumbering again, and when they both emerged to the small sea of eyes, Wudon nodded curtly in the direction of Joodah’s circle of students.
“Another spectator joins the ranks. Seven total slots left. Hust Fordin, with me.”
Joodah slapped Eres five as he walked over to join him, both unable to hide their smirks. They didn’t possess enough Reach to participate, but they weren’t cast away either, which was okay because all he needed was a chance. Eres was going to catch up to Crow if it killed him. He would show him that he could compete, that knowing him was of value, and make Windel wish she’d never crossed him. Everyone would see one day.
The next hours included gossip, some awkward introductions to the other spectators, an odd tension between them and the participants, and many questions from the inquisitive Eplon, Joo. Eres could see greatness in him, in his curiosity for the Umboro ways, and he felt that together, they could go far.
Eventually the last participant was chosen and the rest of the remaining untested students were dismissed with a wave of the proctor’s hand. Those that were left conversed softly with one another until the massive doors bellowed shut to gain everyone’s attention. All eyes then cautiously fell on Wudon, who stood at the center like a dark sentry protecting from some unseen threat. Once the whispers died down, he began his departing words.
“Ooh ar pen du stota pres,” Wudon’s voice made the Umboro language sound like a harrowing séance.
“What did he say?” Joo leaned over to ask in a whisper.
“From here on, everything will contain important matters,” Eres whispered back.
“Each of you have earned your right to stay, in one way or the other.” Wudon’s tone made even a compliment sound dreary. “On your way home, or in this dorm if your feebleness gets the better of you,” he snarled, “you will contemplate why you are in the circle that you are in, whether you believe you belong there, and most importantly, if talents can be learned.”
His eye seemed to linger on Eres, almost speaking to him directly. But this wasn’t an uncommon feeling, one that he chose to ignore since he was almost sure at this point that it was all in his head.
“Dismissed.” Wudon spun and limped back into the gloomy chamber.
After their goodbyes and congratulations, Eres was the only one off in the direction of Dolseir. Many had parents or guardians to pick them up, but Eres’ ooma was weak, and so he was left to travel alone. The forest floors were sparkling with seegs - the crystalized snake-like creatures that reflected moonlight in the prettiest way. It was like someone had scattered diamonds for miles. Eres also noticed the brisk air was becoming oddly thick… something that only happened when…
“A storm,” Eres said loudly to himself. “Why now, Mustae?” He rummaged through his bag for a device that his ooma had given him.
His instincts were right. Bright bursts of purple began to claim spots in his vision, and the clouds swirled together only a few feet above him. He couldn’t believe that Wudon would let this happen, knowing that some as young as year-sevens had tried out for his class.
The proctor knew, he had to know that the weather was shifting. Of course he did, he has Reach.
Eres began to panic. He looked back to see that he was far from the hill leading to Kor, and even farther from home. The options were to take his impeller and make a run for it in either direction, stay put, or trek slowly using the makeshift umbrella-like device that his ooma lent him – her orbrel.
The clouds were forming faster, colors exploding more vividly, culminating too fast for him to hop. Before he knew it, the white fluffs were bursting at the seams. Rain spun out of the vapors like a pinwheel, followed by dull slabs of hail. One pelted Eres in his arm before he could activate the device. He yelped and fumbled to flick the switch, which quickly expanded into an overarching bubble around him. It was like a foam hardened tent that was absorbing the impacts of the ice.
He quietly cursed a few times and watched the grass at his feet blow against the direction he was trudging. His voice echoed inside the humid balloon. Everything about it was uncomfortable, but had he been seriously injured right now, he could die in the night. No one would hear his screams, and his oobs was in too many pieces to put back together at a time like this. More curses left him. Why didn’t he just stay at Kor? Forget what Wudon thought of him, it’s not like he was a participant anyway.
His heart suddenly skipped a beat when he heard a loud thump a few feet in front of him.
Animals usually don’t leave the forest during storms. Maybe I should stay put.
Despite his thoughts, his legs kept moving. He just wanted to be home, watching the storm from a tightly locked shack in his chair, reading some of his favorite books. But that could be hours away now, if he was lucky.
Then, abruptly, the sound of the storm ceased, and the grass at his feet became still. His eyebrows knitted as his mind couldn’t comprehend how this patch of grass wasn’t even wet. His heart stopped when he hit into something solid. There was never anything obstructing the path home, and he was sure he was still on it. Against all safety precautions, he clicked the switch of his device the other way and rewound the makeshift shelter back into its case.
Eres’ eyes lit up. “Fata!”
Agden pressed a palm against his chest, causing his Glite armor to fade into compaction. Slowly, beneath the retracting armor, a look of pride was revealed.
“Eres, you grow by the day.”
“Where are we?” He looked up, mesmerized that he could still see the colorful storm making its show around him but feel none of its wrath.
“An air pocket that I’ve created using Reach. A simple trick that we use to have private conversations, protect from the elements, and so on. Something I would be honored to teach you one day.” He fought to hide a frown.
Once Eres was done scanning the edges of the air bubble that visibly separated them from the outside, his eyes rested on Agden’s windblown face. It had more creases than he’d last remembered. He was becoming weathered, but hid it well with his charming demeanor.
“A day doesn’t go by where I don’t dream of moments like this.” Agden knelt, seemingly responding to his son’s thoughts. “Your angst is written all over that handsome face. It kills me that our time together is spread so few and far between, but I dare not waste what is given with my woes.”
Guilt slowly crept up Eres’ body, and turned into a lump in his throat. “Fata, I… so much has happened since I last saw you. Kor Vinsánce, friends, jerks.”
Agden chuckled at his innocence.
“Proctors, War Tech, Factions, Reach, it’s all incredible. But along the way something happened that I’m very ashamed of. I know Ooma is still mad at me for it.” He bowed his head.
Agden cut in, his smile still there. “Not to worry, son. I spoke with Ooma about Windel. It so happens that the Freeds are devout to Umboro lore and are strong supporters of the Skrol ways.”
“It’s not really her, though. It’s her fat mouth. I’m worried about who she may have told. I was foolish to trust her. I’m sorry Fata, if I caused you any more hassle than you’re already dealing with.”
Agden rested both hands on Eres’ slumped shoulders. “I can already see that this mistake has taken a grave toll on you. I think you’ve beaten yourself up enough for one day, don’t you?”
Eres said nothing back, only glanced at his father’s newly scarred hand. The mark was nasty, deep and curved, running all the way up to his sleeve and likely beyond. But Agden ignored Eres’ concerned face.
“You’ve learned a valuable lesson, but you must also learn to forgive.”
“Her? Never. I will remember this betrayal forever,” he responded stubbornly.
“A future Skrol shouldn’t decide in such absolutes. Euwos Padnas, Eres. Remember your grace.”
Eres shook his head in disagreement and decided he was done talking about himself. “What happened to your hand?”
A year ago, perhaps Agden would’ve pulled his wound back to shield his son’s innocent eyes, but that night he was beginning to see something other than an adolescent. Eres was growing as quickly as he had yearned for in Kor Vinsánce, so instead he displayed the scar front and center.
“Now that you’ve learned your lesson with this family’s secrets, I suspect I can trust you with more.” His voice dropped to accentuate the seriousness of this matter.
Eres shook his head again in shame. “I don’t deserve to know if it’s a secret.”
“Precisely what I thought you’d say.” Agden’s smirk was outshined by the pain in his eyes. “There has been fighting for longer than the public knows. In the shadows. We who participate have named it what it has grown to be: The Silent War.”
“Against Seren Night,” Eres said with a hint of hesitation.
Agden lowered his head. “For the first time, there is evidence of my war that’s out in the open. A fool leaked footage of Seren obtaining one of his latest espers. I knew this fallen Skrol once, and I’m ashamed of the heir who inherited her father’s octor. She was outraged and wanted justice, so she broadcasted our business for the world to see.”
“I saw the footage in Proctor Ren’s class,” Eres admitted, watching his fata for some kind of hint that Alfonze was ‘the eye’.
An aggrieved expression was evident in Agden’s face. “Yes,” was all he said.
Seeing his naturally debonair father in a position of notable strain made Eres wary. He watched Agden’s small crooked nose crinkle when he sniffed in air, and his eyes dart to the floor.
“I can help, Fata. Let me make up for the trouble that I’ve caused. I practice with the impeller every day. I’m good… really good.”
The strained lines on Agden’s face melted away, and the same daring sense of adventure that Eres had come to expect was now staring him in the face once more.
“Show me.”
Closing his fist, Agden dispelled the air pocket. Buckets of rain immediately poured over them. Brisk wind whipped at their faces, making Eres flinch in discomfort. But Agden stood unaffected; he was used to these conditions.
Eres realized he may come to eat his words, since he’d never used the impeller in a storm before. But he watched his father do it many times over… so how hard could it be?
Having the experience and intuition to operate the device blindly, Eres adjusted to his desired settings with the impeller already in position at his back, and clicked it on. The sound that came next was like a propeller underwater, until the device quickly spun dry and sent Eres airborne. His vision became tunneled from the rush, rain feeling like tiny daggers against his face and his eyes were narrowed to slits to avoid getting blinded.
Eres heard a small sonic boom surge behind him, and before he knew it, saw his father’s face upside down peering down at him, flying just slightly ahead.
“Show off!” Eres’ voice was lost in the wind, but his face said it all.
With another click, Eres doubled down and was aiming higher, daring to venture closer to the turbulent clouds. The burst from his impeller’s second mid-air jolt shot water behind him, making it look as though he grew a pair of aqua wings for a split-second. This was his chance to impress Agden, and he wasn’t about to wimp out.
Eres tensed to fight the pressure of the wind. Moving only his eyes, he glanced down to see Agden zagging beneath him. The spectacle was incredible – it reminded him of the two proctors at ceremony, only less restricted. Rawer. His father was everything Windel had said he would be, and more.
Truthfully, he’d never been consistently airborne for this long, but seeing how far ahead his father was in terms of skill made him pretend that he’d been doing this for ages. That false bravado strapped around him like a suit of armor and he was instantly invincible. Stealing one last glance to be sure his father was looking, Eres cranked his impeller to beyond his practiced limit and switched directions straight for the roaring cloud that opened like the mouth of a giant beast. Vibrant colors illuminated the sides of his face as he zoomed closer, thinking all of the way - If he can do it, why can’t I?
Just as he was about to submerge himself, chest puffed with anticipation, grin intact, he heard a bellow from below, and then a hand appeared next to him, his father’s hand, which seemed to drive all of the vapor away…
Eres was suddenly fuming, his face contorted into a twisted rage, yet he was in complete control. He backflipped mid-air and activated a short burst to thrust himself downward.
Two more tiny gusts in the opposite direction leveled his fall to a relatively painless touch down. He whipped himself up quick, hair flowing in the galvanizing wind, eyes following his father spiraling down to meet him.
Agden looked the closest to angry that Eres had ever seen him, considering he was acting reckless, but Eres was furious. Two stomps forward and a push spoke to it.
“All this time. All this time… you,” he poked a finger into Agden’s chest, voice shaking, “could control the storms that you travel in, and… and you only came to visit six times in the last decade? Six!? What tech is this that you haven’t told me about!? Huh? What takes so long to recharge that you had to stay away for that long?”
Agden’s face immediately softened as frustrated fists banged against his hard belly. He was witnessing a boy break down before his eyes, his boy, and for the first time ever, wasn’t sure what to do.
“It’s not tech, Eres.”
But the words were already lost. Eres fell to his knees as anger morphed into despair. He sobbed, shoulders bobbing, knuckles pressing into the wet ground. The punches dug into the dirt until they became too weak to call them so. His hair fell over his face, leaving endless drips of water from the storm past.
Agden knelt slowly next to him and wrapped two arms over Eres’ curled body. “I’m sorry, son,” his voice trembling too, “for everything.”
“It’s because I’m a sexless barren, isn’t it? An Obrun. I’m not Eres Way… I’m Eres Dawn, of shallow legacy,” he repeated the harsh words of Proctor Hundul in Generations class. “I shame you, Fata, don’t I?”
A single tear finally broke the water dam in Agden’s eyes. “Never, you foolish child. Never. It’s because I want you to live.”
Minutes of silence passed. Eres cried out what he had to before he eventually looked up, amber eyes glossy and blemished. After wiping the snot and water from his face, he gently broke free of his father’s embrace and stood back up, embarrassed not for the first time that day.
“If this is how it has to be, then you must let me in, Fata.” His tone was one of finality.
