He looked over at me as we all sat there in silence. “Hey,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Nice job.” Then he held out his fist.
Rather than flinching, which was my first instinct, I balled up my own hand and gave him a fist bump. “Thanks. You rocked out there.”
“Did I live up to your geek standards?”
“Well, sure,” I conceded. “But you’ve got to learn how to make a wall of fire. Whole thing would have taken about five minutes.”
Blade didn’t exactly laugh, but his smirk grew wider. “I’ll work on it.”
Cara had had to help Greystone into the great hall, and now he was sagging in his worn old chair, looking at us.
“So, what was our grade, oh sensei?” said Raven snidely.
He looked at her, but rather than making some scathing comment he simply nodded. “You all did well today. You protected the city and saved as many lives as you could. Even with your limited grasp of your powers, you used them as best you could.”
“…Thanks?” said Miles.
“I was particularly impressed,” Greystone said, as though he hadn’t heard him, “with the scrawny one.” His bright blue eyes fell on mine. “Not with your technique, your form or your skill level — all novice at best — but with your dedication. Keep that alive, Sir Calvin. And all of you. It will be of greater service to you than even your magic, in the end.”
“And when is that going to be?” asked Miles. “What happens next?”
“Next?” said Greystone. “Next are too many things to count. We are at war, and we do not even have a strategy, much less an idea of our next move. But for now, you should enjoy yourselves. There will be plenty of time for grand plans later. Too much time. Time that will surely grow darker as the world does the same.”
“Cheery,” remarked Raven.
“So I guess we’re really Realm Keepers now, huh?” I said, looking around at everyone.
“Guess so,” said Sarah.
I kicked my boots against my chair leg, sending cakes of hardened mud to the stone floor. “Awesome,” I said, closing my eyes.
I woke in my bed.
My bedside clock told me it was five in the morning. I shouldn’t have been up for another three hours, max.
I flopped back in my bed. “Oh my God,” I said. “I passed out in my chair.” I wasn’t embarrassed about falling asleep, but more about the thought of Darren having to carry me upstairs again. I considered trying to go back to sleep, but I’d hit the sack early last night and my body felt totally refreshed.
I sighed and got up, throwing on my jeans and my TRUST ME, I’M A JEDI t-shirt. Then I went downstairs to the kitchen, pouring myself a bowl of cereal and shoving some bread in the toaster.
I took my breakfast to my front step, looking out over my street. Some people were already up as the sun was just beginning to rise, working on their lawns or getting into their cars to go to work. Once again, I found myself intensely interested in everything.
I still didn’t know why I suddenly cared so much. But I guess it didn’t really matter, did it? It was enough to be interested.
It was another hour before my mom woke up and came downstairs, looking surprised to find me in the kitchen.
“Calvin!” she said. “What are you doing up?”
“Went to bed early, and I guess I just…I don’t know. Got enough sleep.” I smiled at her. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” she said, looking at me strangely. She walked by me to the stove, getting out a pan to make herself some eggs — her staple breakfast.
I turned in my chair to look at her. “Mom?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“Is there anything you want to talk about? About me?”
I saw her lip tremble. She put a hand to her throat as though she was trying to still something coming up. She turned the stove off and stepped carefully over to sit across from me.
“Why do you ask that?” she said.
“You’ve been worried,” I said. “I can see that. And it looks like you want to ask me how I’m doing, but you don’t.”
She almost smiled. “I didn’t know you were paying that much attention. I just…with what happened at your school.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. It happened. I don’t know why. But it’s over. And now I sleep different. But that doesn’t mean I’m different.”
She nodded quickly. “Oh, of course, I know that, sweetie. But I just…I don’t know. I can’t stop worrying about whether you’re okay.”
“I am,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
This time she did smile, and chuckled a bit. “I don’t know. We just never talked about it.”
I put my hand on hers and got ready to listen.
“So let’s,” I said.
TO BE CONTINUED IN…
RAVEN
MY NAME IS RAVEN PENBROOKE, and I’m living a double life.
For any smart alecks out there, no, my real name isn’t Raven. It’s Ester. Yeah. You would have changed it, too.
I used to think my life was hard enough. School sucked. Being at home mostly sucked. There wasn’t a whole lot that didn’t suck.
I had enough problems as it was. Aside from being in high school, which is its own special kind of hell, I’m a goth, which means I’m even more of an outcast and a weirdo, according to the rest of the world. Not that I cared, really. It’s just annoying.
But everything changed that day when I got thrown in detention for smoking on school grounds. I — along with the five others in detention — passed out. When we woke up, we weren’t in school any more. We weren’t even on Earth. We were in Midrealm, an alternate universe or something. I still don’t really get it.
On Earth, I’m still a totally normal goth girl. But in Midrealm, I’m something else — I’m a Realm Keeper. The Keeper of Lightning. Me and the other six kids are responsible for protecting Midrealm from the darkness — Chaos (which, admittedly, sounds pretty goth). If we fail, it will filter over to Earth and destroy our world.
We Realm Keepers are the only things standing in its way.
Twelve days after we arrived in Midrealm, we were in the Runehold’s training rooms. Greystone (an old wizard who always smelled like artichokes) had started training us non-stop since the hellion had broken through the barrier gate. The gate had been reconstructed, and no signs of Chaos could be found anywhere near the barrier, which was now constantly patrolled. Greystone was taking the opportunity to let us get a handle on our magic, which we were only beginning to scratch the surface of.
But he was being really stupid about it.
“Why would I need to use a sword when I can shoot a lightning bolt from my hand?” I asked, bored.
Greystone stood off to the side with the other Keepers and remained silent, letting Cara answer instead.
Before Cara could even speak, though, Calvin jumped in. “Come on, Raven,” he said. “Haven’t you seen Starship Troopers?”
“First of all, no,” I replied. “Second of all, what does that have to do with anything? Third, why are you talking?”
Calvin began to explain, but this time it was Cara who cut him off. “You cannot always rely on your magic to save you,” she said. “There are circumstances in which you would not be able to use it, and will have to rely on other methods to defend yourself.”
“For example?” I asked, folding my arms.
“Say you were in a room with a metal floor,” Cara explained. “You could not use your powers without risking electrocution to your friends.”
“Okay, but how likely — ”
“Raven,” said Greystone finally stepping forward. “If only to force you to cease your endless bickering, I will provide a demonstration. Fire a lightning bolt into the ceiling.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why?”
“Indulge me.”
I sighed to show him what a pain he was, then raised a finger to fire a bolt.
There wasn’t even a spark.
I frowned and raised my whole hand. I reached into my mind, looking for the gift that I knew was sitting there. I could see it, but I couldn’t reach it for some reason.
“What…I can’t do it,” I said, confused. It wasn’t like I was super in love with being a Realm Keeper or something, but ever since coming to Midrealm I’d been able to use my magic. Suddenly being disconnected from it made me feel odd. Almost naked.
“I have placed a hold on your mind,” Greystone said. “It blocks you from reaching your magic. Tess will be able to do the same, when she gains further control of her powers. But she is not the only one. Other wizards have power over the mind. If you ever face one, you will find it very useful to be able to shove a sword into their belly.”
“Are there wizards fighting for Chaos?” asked Miles with wide eyes.
“There are very few, but they exist,” said Cara. “But not all humans will be on your side, either. The Free Kingdoms are not all one big, happy family as you seem to think. Wars exist quite in addition to our struggle against Chaos. And the elves, too, possess magic, and they are not our allies.”
“Don’t they realize that Chaos is a bigger threat?” asked Tess quietly from the corner.
“They do, for now,” said Cara. “Every kingdom is besieged. There is no time for border wars. But that will not last. Once we strike out against Chaos, the kingdoms will have room to breathe. Some of them will begin looking to see how they can use the war for profit and gain.”
“Because as we all know,” finished Blade, “people just suck when you get right down to it. All right. I’m ready to beat the crud out of you guys with a sword. Where do we start?”
“Well well,” said Cara. She smiled. It was always a little shocking when she did that. Cara seemed to have some kind of permanent sadness around her. You could tell there was something in her past that she couldn’t let go of. Kind of like me. If Cara had been on Earth, we probably would have been good friends. She was my kind of people.
She stepped toward Blade like a tiger. “We have a volunteer. Very well. Let’s see what you’re made of, little man.” I almost pointed out that Blade stood four inches taller than Cara, but I figured it wouldn’t be worth it.
Cara tossed Blade a blunted training sword. He grabbed at the handle awkwardly, but missed. It went clattering to the floor, and he leapt back so it wouldn’t crack down on his toes.
“Hey!” he cried, scrambling for the weapon. “I thought we’d train with each other!”
“You thought wrong,” Cara said simply. “Now get that sword up!”
Blade barely had his sword raised above his head before Cara brought hers down on it. The clang of steel echoed off the stone walls, and Blade recoiled from the attack. But he kept his grip on his weapon and dropped into a half-crouch, sword held awkwardly at the ready.
“Good!” Cara said. “You’ve got some instinct for a blade. Appropriate, I suppose.” She dropped the point of her own sword to the floor. “You next,” she said, pointing at me.
I folded my arms. “I don’t want to use a sword,” I said.
“An axe, then.” she said, pointing to a weapons rack.
“I don’t want to use a weapon,” I clarified. “Besides, apparently I can’t get rid of the old man.” I nodded at Barius. “So isn’t he going to be there to protect me?”
Barius stepped forward from where he had been leaning against the wall, observing. He reminded me of my grandfather — if my grandfather were even grumpier, wore a suit of armor and had the sense of humor of a lobotomized rock. “We could be separated in a fight,” he said gruffly.
“As great as that sounds, I doubt it,” I said.
“Or I could be killed in combat,” he continued. “It happens in war. You need to be able to look after yourself.”
“If someone killed you, what possible chance do you think I would have?”
“A better one with a sword in your hand than without it,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes again. This was so dumb. I turned to the weapon rack behind me, scanning it.
“If you don’t want to use a sword, then choose another weapon,” Cara said. “Take your pick. Instinct is often your best guide in this case. A soldier who wants to learn the sword will take to it more easily. A brute who prefers the crushing weight of a mace will be more deadly with it than if he tried to harness the finesse necessary to use, say, a whip.”
My head jerked around. “A whip?”
“Some of the southern kingdoms have men who are incredibly skilled with a whip,” Cara said. “They can knock your hat off from twenty-five feet away, or entangle a swordsman’s arms before he can get within striking distance, then finish him off with a dagger to the throat.”
I grimaced. “Gross. All right, let me try a whip.”
Cara balked. “I apologize, Lady Raven,” she said. “I did not mean it as a suggestion. Whips are terrible weapons for formation fighting. Often you will not have enough room to use it properly. You would be better suited to a more normal weapon. Perhaps a short spear?”
“I want a whip,” I said stubbornly. “I’m not some soldier fighting in a battle line. Who cares about formations?”
Cara gave an exasperated look to Greystone. I expected him to chew me out like he always did. I was shocked when he smirked and nodded instead, saying, “You said it yourself, Cara. Instinct is often the best guide.”
Cara turned back to me with resignation. “Well, I do not know how to teach whip fighting. Of all the Keepers I know of, I have never heard of a Keeper choosing a whip before. But you can practice on dummies to learn what you can. I will put out the word that we seek a fighter to train you. Is that satisfactory, Lady Raven?”
“Quite,” I said, nodding. “So where can I get one? I want it in black. Leather, of course.”
Miles snickered. “You can take the girl out of the goth, but you can’t take the goth out of the girl.”
“That sentence doesn’t even grammatically make sense,” Calvin pointed out.
“Just roll with it.”
They found me a whip in the stables, and everyone else picked their weapons. Sarah went for a sword, though a smaller one than Blade’s. Miles picked a big axe that he held with two hands. Tess went for a sword just like Sarah’s, though it looked completely ridiculous in her hands. And Calvin chose an ironshod quarterstaff. Greystone rolled his eyes as when Calvin picked it out.
We split off into our individual training rooms again, just to make sure we didn’t accidentally cut each other in half, while Greystone hurried away, muttering something about research that required his attention. Barius helped me set up a wooden training dummy in the center of my room, and I practiced attacking it with the whip. At first I had no idea what I was doing, but soon I was able to make the whip crack pretty regularly against the dummy’s wooden surface. Then I tried making the whip wrap around a limb. At first it kept sliding off every time I tried. I got more and more frustrated, my arm growing sore as I tried to wrap the whip around the dummy’s arm again and again. Barius stood off to the side and tried to help, but he clearly didn’t know any more about using it than I did.
I kept at it. Then, it happened. Its leather length leapt forward, snaking around the training dummy’s arm. I yanked, and the thing toppled to the floor. I gave a whoop of delight. Barius helped me right the dummy. I practiced and practiced until I could snag an arm, a leg, even the neck, almost every time. I worked until my hands were blistered and in pain from swinging the whip again and again.
Eventually Sarah showed up, saying that our eight hours were up and it was time to go back home.
I woke up back in my room on Earth and sighed with relief as I sat up, throwing off my black comforter. I rubbed my eyes, yawning broadly as I swung my legs over and onto the dark carpet. I always kept my shades drawn, but a little shaft of light had managed to sneak through. Now it was beaming straight into my eye. I blocked it with my hand, then made my way to my bathroom to get ready for school.
> High school, I thought. Ridiculous.
High school was supposed to get you ready for college, which was supposed to get you ready to go out and do whatever you wanted to do in the world. But what if you didn’t want to do anything? What if you just wanted to stay at home and be with your family? Well, some of your family, at least.
Sarah was always so busy. Running back and forth, doing all the school activities, being on the sports teams and still somehow managing to keep her grades up. Fine. I was sure she was going to do great. But I always got this vibe from her, like she was surprised I wasn’t doing the same. Was it some kind of requirement to be so obsessive? Was it a crime that I just didn’t care about things like she did?
I splashed cold water on my face, the shock of it making me gasp and purging thoughts of my uncomfortable relationship with Sarah. I finished washing my face, then started prepping for the day.
Some people think that goths are messy and don’t care how they look. What they don’t realize is that it takes us about an hour longer to get ready for the day than it does any norms. Makeup was a big part of my routine, obviously. That’s probably the first thing you think of when you hear the word “goth.” Truth is, tons of us don’t bother with it. Goth isn’t a look, it’s a lifestyle that’s occasionally accompanied by a particular look.
Me, though, I loved that look, and I wore it to the extreme. The white makeup went first, then eyeliner and mascara. A dark purple lipstick finished the face.
My outfit had always been pretty traditional, but recently I’d been experimenting with some steampunk-type looks. I had a sweet new pair of goggles that I’d never worn to school before. It was a Friday, so I guessed it would be as good a time as any. If I decided they didn’t work, I could pick up something else over the weekend. The rest of the outfit was a black top beneath a tight corset. I used to use pink to accent the black. But since we’d gone to Midrealm and I’d become “Lightning Girl,” or whatever, I’d gotten a new corset with yellow vertical stripes instead of pink. A couple of people had laughed at me, saying it made me look like a bumblebee. I laughed right back at them because of how uncomfortable I knew I made them.
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