The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade

by Jason Psilopoulos

  Rebekah smirked a little at how silent the class was. She remembered being in the academy, trying to pretend that she was giving the other class members a chance to answer. The fact had been that she didn't like to speak in front of the class. But Marcus had made it difficult to stay hidden. He used to jab her with a pencil to get the attention of a teacher on her. She loved Marcus, but hated that streak of mischievousness in him.

  "I know you guys know this. Come on." Marcus was trying to give these kids a chance to tell him what they knew. But these four, all in this special class for specific reasons, remained silent. Marcus glanced at Rebekah, who would only give him a non-committal shrug. She wasn't much help.

  Marcus studied his class as he waited; Four students that had been assigned to him because their mentors were having trouble with their progress. The first was the youngest member of the class, a boy from a cat-like race called the Un'Hok Tol. His name was on the role, but Marcus knew he'd never be able to say it. The boy insisted that he be called Uther. Marcus didn't see why. His named didn't even have a 'U' in it. It barely had any vowels at all. But it was easier than anything else he could think of. And since he answered to the name, Marcus wasn't about to question him. It was better than trying to say what he knew was an impossible word.

  Uther's problem was fairly clear. The Un'Hok Tol, for all the pacifism and peace they lived and promoted, were probably the most openly feared and hated race in the world. Uther would never be able to do anything about his appearance. A fine sheen of black-silver fur on his skin, and a shock of platinum white hair dominated his slight frame. Marcus had been told very simply that the boy was harassed by other boys, accusing him of sorcery. And Uther, being a peaceful type, did not retaliate.

  The nickname 'Silverback' was whispered in the halls when Uther would walk by, and Marcus was sure that comparing the boy to an ape was unfounded and cruel. Uther had handled all the criticism and malice with his usual quiet stoicism, opting to remain passive. Marcus had met the boy before, and whatever accusations were leveled against him, he knew Uther well enough to know it wasn't in him to be a sorcerer.

  Sitting beside Uther was the only girl in the class, a slight, skinny redhead named Mary Wyllder. She was sitting next to Uther, her face half-buried in a textbook. The title read simply 'Paladins of the 1st Epoch.' Marcus had noticed her immediately, not only because she was an unrelenting bookworm, and not because she was a girl in a nearly all boy class, but because the oversized glasses on her nose were failing to hide her bright blue eyes. It was the kind of blue that looked as though her eyes were glowing.

  Mary was not an active paladin by any means. Marcus had seen her in the Quad, sitting under a shade tree, reading some oversized book and ignoring any other concern that came about. She was so engrossed in her books sometimes, she wouldn't even bother to shoo the bees that flitted past her view as she read. Her mentor hadn't described anything else that could be a problem; only that she was a little small for a paladin, not at all interested in any kind of physical training. But Marcus had noticed also that when he questioned her specifically, she gave him her fullest attention. And her answers were always well above her age range.

  The oldest member of the class besides Ian was Jack Roykirk, a descendant of the ancient Roykirk family. Jack was sixteen, six feet tall, with a large mane of unkempt brown-blonde hair, most of which fell across one side of his face. He sat with his feet up on the desk in front of him, leaning back in his chair, almost bored looking. Marcus was familiar with Jack's family. He'd read up on nearly everything that Marius Roykirk had done in previous years.

  Jack hung his head back, staring at the ceiling. Marcus wasn't entirely sure, but he reasoned that Jack was probably counting the dots in the ceiling panels. His mentor had said that he showed little motivation, and tended to think he was better than his training showed. Marcus knew what that meant. He had an ego problem.

  The other problem was Jack's circle of friends. He was something of a hellion around campus. A few less than stalwart paladin students followed him around, hanging on his every word and doing whatever he said. Not to mention the girls.

  Sydney Bair was a platinum blonde who knew exactly who she was, and what she could do. Her talents, according to her mentor, lay in communications and diplomacy. She could talk almost anyone into almost anything. But according to her mentor, she had become somewhat self-absorbed. Lately, Sydney was the very first person Marcus saw as the classroom door opened to let his students out. He had first met Jack with Sydney brazenly attached to his lips. Marcus understood the teenage drive to be with someone, having experienced it himself. But what was unfolding between the two of them was beyond Marcus’s experience. It took a full minute to peel the two apart most days. Marcus was concerned that Jack was headed for a lot more trouble than just having his proverbial rug pulled out from beneath him when he got into the field. A trouble that Marcus had taken great pains to avoid.

  But neither Jack, nor Mary or Uther concerned Marcus terribly. Their problems were normal and simple by comparison. Marcus could see where the problems had started and where they would eventually end. It was fifteen-year-old Ellis Burke that was keeping him up nights.

  Ellis sat in the back of the class, two full rows behind the rest of his classmates. His deep gray eyes were locked on a place in front of him. He didn’t look to have tried to clean himself up this morning, his hair a strange disarray of mangled brown-black knots. Marcus figured it was the style around campus lately, since not a few other boys were sporting a similar look. There were dress code mandates that addressed hairstyles, but they very rarely were enforced anymore.

  Marcus had tried to coax him into sitting closer, but Ellis was persistent to the point of being rude about parking at the back of the class. He didn't look bored or shy or anything. He simply looked like he didn't care. And no amount of prodding got Marcus more than a stern look from Ellis. Not that anything that Marcus was saying was worthy of such apathy. Ellis simply sat with his arms folded firmly across his twiggy chest, staring forward with no sign that anything Marcus said was registering.

  Ellis's mentor was Cecil Stonebraker, an old friend of Marcus's. Cecil was helpful most of the time, but when it came to Ellis, he was tight-lipped and evasive. And the Record Hall would not give him any of Ellis's official records, which Marcus found strange. There wasn't even a public record, other than a birth certificate and his Academy entrance papers. It occurred to him that there was something in the boy's upbringing that no one wanted revealed. Without that information, Marcus wasn't sure how to proceed.

  "I think a full minute of silence is enough for anyone," Ian said from the side, looking at his watch. "I know I feel more abstract." Marcus gave his student a quick glance, expressing a silent thank you. Ian nodded almost imperceptibly. If there was one thing that Ian was good for in the class, it was communicating with the kids. Ian wasn't much older than Jack, so he had an in with them. And they didn't mind having him around. So, Ian was his secret liaison with the students. An unofficial TA. Marcus had never actually told him he was on the attendance sheet. He just didn’t have the heart.

  "So, no one wants to venture a guess as to why Ian ended up wearing an acre of grass like a helmet." That got a slight chuckle out of Jack at least. It was more of an expression than he'd seen on the boy in quite some time. But the rest of the class remained silent. Mary barely even moved, only readjusting herself as she turned the page of her book. Marcus could tell she was listening though. She had an uncanny ability to concentrate on two things at once.

  "What would you guys have done differently?" Rebekah asked from the back.

  "Not gone into the simulator," Jack offered, making his tone purposely sarcastic.

  "No try, no fail huh?" Ian asked. Jack looked over at Ian and smirked.

  "I wouldn't have made that mistake smart guy, because I wouldn't have been in that situation." Ian could feel a challenge coming from Jack. That was one thing that Jack did seem to like. He found
it very amusing trying to rile people. He just didn't like it when someone challenged him back. Ian wasn't about to take the bait on that, but far be it for him not to respond.

  "Just be sure you have my whites finished when I get back from missions Jack. Because if you think that not trying is succeeding, then the laundry is all you may get assigned to you. And if you fail at that-" Marcus shook his head at Ian, trying to stave off an argument. Ian became still. Jack relented also, not liking the idea of ending up in the laundry room. Marcus noticed Uther shifting in his seat nervously. He had found that that was the sign that Uther knew the answer and might actually be coerced into saying something.

  "Uther?" The boy fidgeted a little bit more, and then he opened his mouth.

  "I would have waited," he said simply, his voice quiet and wafer thin. Marcus nodded. He couldn't argue with the logic, but he knew there was more to it than that.

  "Okay. But what would you have waited for?" The room got quiet again. "Would you have waited for me to make a move? Or for Krill to attack?” Marcus paused. “Lunch maybe?" That got a chuckle. Jack rolled his head around and raised his hand. "It's an open forum Jack." Jack lowered his hand, only a hint of embarrassment on his face.

  "Ian should've waited for the right moment. Instead, he got turned into a postal package." Marcus smirked in Ian's direction. He wasn't taking it well. Ian wasn’t used to failing at anything. And being used as an example wasn't helping matters.

  "But what's the right moment? And how long should you wait?" Mary asked, her voice half-muffled behind her book. Marcus was always startled by how young she seemed. Her voice was so small. She didn't seem any older than ten. She was just a very small fifteen.

  "An interesting question. What is the right moment? Or putting it another way, how do we know when the right moment is?" The room was silent again. Marcus was starting to find the silent answers a bit infuriating. "If you guys don't start answering questions, then I'll have you writing essays." That got a collective groan from the group. Marcus knew he would get the responses he wanted now. There was nothing quite like the threat of homework to motivate a student.

  "The computer sets up the situation," a defiant sounding voice stated from the back of the room. "It's simple enough to learn the patterns the computer works in, and predict what the problem will be. Beating a computer is not a problem so long as you know that it’s fake." Marcus looked directly at Ellis as he said it. It wasn't that his answer wasn't answering the question smartly. He was missing the point.

  "Well Mister Burke, you might be surprised to know that the Holodrome computers work on a pseudo-random probability engine. That ogre would not have arisen when it did if Ian had held back. The computer reacted to Ian's actions and his demeanor and punished his efforts appropriately. It's made that way so that you cannot learn its pattern. It's also made that way so that you can learn patience." Marcus sat himself down on the edge of the desk. Ellis glared back at him, almost daring him to continue.

  "It's not real so what's the point?" Marcus could see that Ellis wanted to have a confrontation about this. So, he engaged him.

  "The point is to learn how to adapt to situations. And reality is a subjective matter, especially when dealing with magics. You can't just follow a set pattern for everything. Life is not a set of patterns. Paladin life especially is not just a bunch of rules and mandates." Marcus paused, taking a second to gather his thoughts. He gave Ian and Rebekah a quick glance, knowing they were familiar with what he was about to say.

  "Have you guys ever gone up to Ellen's Landing?" A groaning yes came from the four. "You notice that the surf is very calm and small. It doesn't smash against the sand." There were a few nods, but not much in the way of knowing looks.

  "Ellen's Landing's boring," Jack offered, his tone biting with disgust and boredom. Marcus frowned. He actually liked going to Ellen's Landing.

  "Be that as it may, that's not the point. Water at Ellen's Landing is gentle and easy. It’s just water. But if you go to Alundria Bay in the east, the surf hits the sand in thirty-foot waves. If you're surfing and you wipe out, those waves can break you in half. But again, it's still water. What then, is the difference?" Marcus waited for an answer. He wasn't going to hand it to them. He glanced at Rebekah, who knew what he was getting at. Ian looked a little confused.

  Marcus hadn't taken the time to explain this analogy to his pupil. Ian had been too busy trying to learn everything in a single day. Somehow, explaining things to Ian in those first few months had taken on an arduous quality. Ian wanted to do. But for the first month, Marcus tried to teach Ian how to know first before doing. Ian was making large strides, but he was still showing large signs of impatience with the process. It was just taking time. In the midst of his reverie, Mary put her book down. She was going to answer without distraction.

  "Well, water is malleable. It's liquid, but with enough force behind it, it is also semi-solid. So, if we want to adapt to situations . . ." Marcus hoped she would grasp it. He could see her mind working. "Then we have to be forceful?" Marcus smirked. The logic wasn't flawed really. She just didn't quite see it.

  "You're in the neighborhood. But force isn't always necessary. In fact, unless the situation is extreme, then it isn't necessary at all. But you said that water was malleable. It can change. What happens when you pour water into a cup?" All he got were a few blank looks. "It becomes the cup."

  "It becomes the inside of the cup," Jack said snidely, purposely contradicting him. Marcus nodded slightly.

  "Fair enough. But anything water enters, it resembles in form. Water is without a native solidity and has no permanent form of its own, but can be as hard as cement. In order for water to flow, it needs to be fluid. But to smash stone and even steel, it needs to be solid in some way.

  "That is the way you must be in your charges as a paladin. Formless and adaptable. Like water." Uther raised his hand slightly.

  "But how do we become formless if we live within the form of the paladin rules?" Marcus smirked a little. That was where he was going with it.

  "Well, that Uther, I will teach you next time." Marcus had learned never to give away more than his students were ready for. Teach them, he could hear Jacob Raven say. But always leave them with questions. Because if they have questions, it means they are either pondering, or they weren't paying attention.

  "Well, I'd have to say that was better than yesterday," Rebekah said as the three of them exited the Holodrome, starting across Firion Street towards the cafeteria. Marcus shrugged a little bit and took her hand. Rebekah smiled and sighed inwardly. She was glad things were the way they were. Marcus may not have completely let go of the idea of Jennifer Burton, but he was certainly not thinking about her right now.

  It'd been over a year since Jennifer had ended the engagement with Marcus, boarded a cruise ship and sailed away to become famous. It wasn't entirely without irony that she had accomplished exactly what she had attempted. Jennifer had become something of an icon over the past few months. Startlingly so, in fact. Rebekah had to wonder what kind of deals Drew Anger had struck to get Jennifer this popular this quickly.

  Rebekah had a sneaking suspicion that more was going on with Jennifer Burton than anyone could see on the surface. Whether it was her manager and public affairs people, or Jennifer herself, Rebekah had to wonder what was really driving this particular media machine. The near fanatical insanity of people's devotion to her and her music was jarring, to say the least. Rebekah knew a little about the public eye, and she knew that something with this much fervor had to be generated somehow. Just the fact that many of the younger paladins were sporting Jennifer Burton Memorabilia on their book bags, folders, and uniforms spoke volumes. There was even talk of a fan club operating on the campus. None of this was illegal. People were allowed to follow what they pleased. But the devotion being displayed was startling in its intensity.

  Marcus had not kept track of Jennifer's movements, nor did he acknowledge the growing presence of Jennifer Burt
on on campus, but Rebekah knew he was aware of it all. And anytime one of her songs was played in the dorms, or a picture of her was in evidence, Marcus's face would go sour. Rebekah was sure his mood was in a similar state. He'd only had one real outburst when one of the underclassmen in the common room tried to show him a swimsuit poster of Jennifer, unknowing of their former relationship. Marcus had angrily put a fist through the picture, leaving it in tatters. Despite Marcus's efforts to leave Jennifer Burton behind, she seemed to keep reminding him that she would return eventually.

  "Yesterday, we weren't making fun of anything. I think it works when they have a lightning rod, so to speak." Marcus thought back to the day before. The class wasn't just for simulator evaluations. Marcus was also the resident sword master on campus. Normally, Jacob would've taught them the basics of swordplay and respect for the weapons of a paladin. But his disappearance had left Marcus as the only qualified instructor at the Academy. However, most paladin trainees this semester had foregone formal swordplay training to focus on other classes, so Marcus found himself without a lot of students to teach. His small batch of troubled teens was all the class he had been assigned so far. All things considered, the physical training was not going well.

  "Yeah. About that Marcus." Ian interrupted. "I don't mean to put down your teaching technique." Marcus could tell that Ian was being sarcastic. His voice had just the slightest bite to it when he didn't mean exactly what he said. "Actually, I do. Can you please stop using my mistakes as examples for this class?" Marcus glanced back at Ian.

  "Why? Your mistakes are good lessons for them." Ian shook his head.

  "But they're embarrassing." Marcus glanced at Rebekah and smiled.

  “Flying through the air like a javelin is embarrassing.” Ian’s face went caustic.

  "Ian.” Marcus interrupted, “Remember that we all have to go through that. You need to toughen up a little." Ian grimaced. "Look, I'm just making your embarrassment worthwhile." Ian didn't agree.