“It’s not your fault,” Kennedy added, misreading Lincoln’s look.
“I’ll bet Banks won’t see it that way,” Lincoln responded. No longer hungry, he stood and left the dormitory.
As soon as he stepped into Roemick Tower, Lincoln was stopped by the young secretary. She gave him a malicious grin and told him to head straight for Mr. Rockwell’s office. He wanted to see Lincoln immediately. Lincoln smirked at her, trudged to the elevator, and reluctantly climbed in. Halfway to the eighth floor, he started feeling queasy, though he doubted the feeling came from the elevator ride. The elevator doors opened, and Lincoln walked down the waterfall hall. He was surprised to find the door open and Skylar and Jack already there, standing in front of Mr. Rockwell’s desk.
“Ah, Mr. Thomas, nice of you to join us. Will the three of you please have a seat?” Mr. Rockwell gestured to three chairs in front of his desk. The three of them obediently sat down.
Mr. Rockwell clasped his hands together, forefingers resting on his chin as he observed the three recruits. “I hear the three of you had quite a busy night,” he began, leaning forward in his chair. “According to Nathaniel Banks, the three of you attacked him and his six friends after your afternoon training session.” Lincoln stood and started to protest angrily, but Mr. Rockwell cut him off. “Unfortunately for Mr. Banks, I’m not as dumb as he thinks I am. His friends eventually gave us the real story.”
Lincoln sat back in his chair and grinned, imagining Banks’s reaction upon learning his friends had betrayed him. Mr. Rockwell leaned back and gave the three recruits a calculating look. “Based on what I heard, I think I’ll be seeing a lot of the three of you.” He pointed at Lincoln and Skylar. “You may be younger than your peers, but all three of you have been given gifts beyond those of most first-year recruits. Use them wisely. Be grateful for these talents, but do not let them define you.” The three recruits looked at each other and then back at Mr. Rockwell, nodding.
Mr. Rockwell smiled. “I believe I’ve said enough. You will receive no punishment for what happened last night. Defending yourselves is certainly no crime. Now hurry back to class. I don’t want any teachers complaining to me about wasting their valuable class time.”
The three of them left Mr. Rockwell’s office and hurried to class. Like afternoon classes, morning classes were on a rotating schedule. Today they studied language, music, art, and earth science. Just like yesterday, they were assigned more than enough homework to keep them busy. Since Lincoln had done no homework the night before, he had twice the fun to look forward to.
The afternoon training would be held in the RTC. A sign on the doors directed the recruits to choose a desk in the classroom section of the center. Lincoln, Skylar, and Jack did as directed, choosing desks near the back of the room.
Lincoln glanced around the classroom, spotting Banks and his friends toward the front. Banks had a bandaged arm. The Healers said he should be completely healed within three or four days, but for now his participation in training would be very limited.
A thin man wearing grey dress pants and a matching vest entered the RTC. His head bounced up and down as he approached the recruits. His gait seemed exaggerated, more dramatic and less intimidating than Miss Grimes’s. He walked past Lincoln and continued toward the front of the classroom.
The man looked to be a few years older than Mr. Rockwell. He had a rather large nose and bushy, dark eyebrows streaked with white. His face wore a pleasant smile and a pair of dark-rimmed spectacles. His hair was short and mostly white with black speckles scattered throughout. Lincoln thought he looked more like a distinguished university professor than a Guardian. The man clapped his hands dramatically.
“Good afternoon, recruits. I am Patrick Spencer. Welcome to your first training session here in the RTC, where I will be your instructor for the next two years. As you have hopefully realized, the RTC is divided into nine sections. This is the classroom. The other eight sections are designed for rite training, with one section for each rite. We’ll be spending a lot of time in each one of them.”
Mr. Spencer looked up at the ceiling and swept both his arms up over his head. Several recruits giggled, and Jack looked at Lincoln, raising his eyebrows questioningly. The giggles quickly stopped as Mr. Spencer looked back toward the recruits. His eyes had turned grey and were glowing brightly.
“The eight rites,” continued Mr. Spencer slowly. “Air.” Several recruits gasped as a soft breeze flowed through the room. “Water.” A small ball of water formed between his outstretched hands, swirling slowly.
“Fire.” The ball of water vanished. A giant flame burst into life on one of the front desks, crackling and rising high into the air. The African recruit sitting at the desk cried out and jumped backward. The flame extinguished just as quickly as it had appeared, and to Lincoln’s and everyone else’s surprise, the desk appeared undamaged.
“Light.” The room went dark. “Earth.” The lights turned back on, and a stone sitting on Mr. Spencer’s desk rose into the air, broke into several pieces, reformed a few seconds later, and then landed back on the desk.
“Gravity.” A recruit let out a yelp of surprise. The others turned to see the recruit and her desk several feet in the air, waving her arms and legs frantically as she was slowly lowered back to the ground.
“Time.” Mr. Spencer vanished. “And finally,” everyone turned to see their instructor standing in the back of the room, smiling, “life. For obvious reasons, there will be no demonstration of controlling the life rite.”
The recruits whispered back and forth excitedly as Mr. Spencer returned to the front of the room. “Rite control requires focus, strength, endurance, and most importantly, creativity. Let’s use the gravity rite as an example. Any ideas on how one could control it?”
The recruit who had been floating shot her hand into the air. “Yes?” Mr. Spencer asked, suppressing a small smile.
“Gravity’s a force, isn’t it? So we could increase or decrease its strength.”
“Very good,” answered Mr. Spencer. “And what is your name?”
“Amanda.”
“So, Amanda, what could changing the strength of gravity do?”
“You could lift someone or something into the air.” She gave Mr. Spencer a disapproving look. He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Or,” the recruit continued, “if you increased gravity’s strength, you could knock someone to the ground, or at least make it harder for them to move.”
“Well done,” answered Mr. Spencer. “If gravity is increased sufficiently, one can literally force someone to the ground, where they would be stuck.”
“Can we fly?” Lincoln had not meant to speak aloud, but he was so enthralled with the idea, his question slipped out before he could take it back.
“Ah,” said Mr. Spencer, “the Superman question. What is your name, young man?”
“Lincoln.”
“Lincoln Thomas?” asked Mr. Spencer. Lincoln nodded, and Mr. Spencer let out a chuckle. “Based on rumors flying around the academy, I’m not sure if I should be training you or if you should be training me.” Lincoln felt his face turn red and sank a little lower in his seat.
Mr. Spencer continued, “Lincoln has asked the million dollar question, can we fly? The short answer is yes. In fact, the Guardians who specialize in the gravity rite are known as Flyers. But it is very difficult. Flying is like performing complicated brain surgery. It requires the ability to change both the force and direction of gravity with precision and expert timing. I know of only a handful of Guardians outside of the Flyers who can do so, and their flying looks clumsy and slow when compared to the Flyers. A super jump is a much simpler technique that you will all be capable of doing before finishing your time here at the academy.
“There are many more uses for controlling the gravity rite. Hopefully you can see the benefits of being creative. Remember, rules are made to be broken, and the most skilled Guardians can do things many of us never dream of doing.” Mr. Spencer p
ointed to a large cabinet next to the chalkboard. “This cabinet holds your training manuals. Each of you may take one, but please do so in an orderly fashion.”
The recruits eagerly lined up, each grabbing a training manual before returning to his or her desks. Lincoln recognized the thick manual titled Rite Control from his parents’ secret room. He briefly scanned it, noticing that it was divided into eight sections, one for each rite.
As soon as they were once again sitting, Mr. Spencer continued, “Learning to control rites is like riding a bike. It’s tough to explain how you do it to someone who’s never done it before. Controlling the rites will feel awkward and difficult at first, but it will soon become second nature. What’s the key to knowing when a Guardian is preparing to control a rite?”
“Their eyes turn grey.” Nearly every recruit shouted the answer.
“Exactly,” said Mr. Spencer. “This can be very crucial in battle. Another important item to remember is that controlling rites is exhausting. You will be amazed at how quickly you run out of energy. Be careful not to overexert yourself. Of course, the more training you do, the more endurance you will build up. Now then, let’s see what you can do. I want each of you to try to control the air rite, making a breeze like I did.”
“How do we do that?” asked a recruit a few desks in front of Lincoln.
Mr. Spencer smiled, and his expression softened. “I wish there were a simple explanation, but there’s not. Could any of you explain to someone how to walk? Of course not, because how do you explain using your brain to signal your nerves to make your muscles move? This is the same idea. All of you have already done it. It’s what got you into the academy. Remember, I don’t expect miracles, just a little breeze.”
The recruits stood, spreading out across the room as they tried to control the rite. Lincoln watched his fellow recruits’ eyes turn grey and begin to glow as they tried to use their new powers. He closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand. The two times Lincoln had controlled rites, he had done so out of desperation, but this time there was no such need. Would he still be able to do it? For the first few minutes, nothing happened.
Suddenly, Lincoln felt as if a part of his brain that had been sleeping burst into life. Like Mr. Spencer said, it wasn’t something he could explain, but somehow he could now access a power inside himself that had never been there until just a few days ago.
He opened his eyes. Just like during his fight with Banks, the air around Lincoln now felt different. He could move it, shape it, and bend it ... all with this power. This was awesome!
Mr. Spencer walked among the recruits, passing by Lincoln. “Don’t give up,” he urged gently, pointing to Lincoln’s non-glowing eyes. “Remember, I can see if you’re trying.”
Knowing Mr. Spencer would never believe that not only was he trying but he was actually controlling the rite, Lincoln surrounded Mr. Spencer with a wall of air, just like he had done the night before. Mr. Spencer took a step away from Lincoln and ran smack into it, knocking his glasses off.
“Are you doing this?” he demanded after retrieving his glasses from the floor. Lincoln nodded. “But your eyes,” protested Mr. Spencer, “they never changed.”
“I know,” answered Lincoln as he let the air shield dissolve.
Mr. Spencer smiled and pointed to his eyes again. “That little trick will certainly come in handy during the rest of your training. Continue practicing your control with the rite, but pace yourself. It will drain your energy.”
Mr. Spencer then addressed the class. “Lincoln has just made quite the impressive air shield, one of the most basic defenses Guardians use. It is accomplished by condensing the air, making it as thick as possible. Air shields are not impenetrable, but the more powerful the Guardian, the stronger the air shield. Another thing you will quickly learn is what we call an air blast. An air blast is performed by shooting a blast of condensed air at something. It can be very powerful, knocking objects or people hundreds of feet. We will learn both of these techniques soon. For now, I want you to focus on making a breeze.”
By the end of the afternoon, most of the recruits had at least accessed their powers, though many of them had failed to manipulate the air. Still, a few were able to make a breeze, including Skylar and Jack. When training ended, Mr. Spencer handed each recruit a cup of water and two large pills with green and yellow spots. “I want each of you to take these pills before you leave here,” he instructed.
“What are they?” asked Skylar.
“Alice Cross makes them for us,” answered Mr. Spencer. “They will help with your aches and pains. We will use these pills for the first two weeks as your bodies adjust to training. At that point, you should be able to train without any Healer meds.”
With that, Mr. Spencer ended the training session, congratulating the recruits on their success and encouraging those who struggled. The pills Mr. Spencer gave them worked splendidly. They worked so well, in fact, that the recruits found themselves quite restless after dinner. Milo suggested a game of King of the Tower, and away they went.
As had become the norm over the past week, Jack and Skylar both spent several minutes as king. Even though Skylar was smaller than most of the other recruits, she was quick and fierce. She battled with a tenacious desperation. Lincoln, on the other hand, spent most of his time dragging himself out of the pond. He had been undeniably lucky during that first game. Since then, he had only made it to the top of the tower once. But that didn’t stop him from having fun, and he was slowly improving. The game ended with the sound of the night bells tolling. The recruits returned to their dormitories and hurried through their homework, eagerly awaiting day three of their training.
CHAPTER 9
THE ATLAS OBSTACLE COURSE
THE RECRUITS HAD THEIR SECOND training session with Miss Grimes the following afternoon. This time she was waiting for them on the other side of the training center, in front of the obstacle course. The recruits gathered around her as she handed each of them a protective vest and then instructed them on how to wear it.
Lincoln was still tightening the straps on his vest when Skylar pointed out a plaque full of names next to the course. “Check it out. Simon’s up there.”
Lincoln’s jaw dropped as he focused on the list of names on the plaque titled “All-Time Records.” It wasn’t the fact that Simon held the third fastest time in the history of the academy that surprised him. It was what else he saw on the plaque.
1st place – Olivia Stone (9:48)
2nd place – Addison Grimes (11:25)
3rd place – Simon Ryder (11:32)
4th place – Marcus Banks (12:12)
5th place – Evan Reynolds (12:20)
Lincoln’s mom held the all-time record. No wonder Miss Grimes had wanted him to be her volunteer. And no wonder she had been so disappointed in his ability.
“Recruits,” Miss Grimes began, “today will be your first attempt on the Atlas Obstacle Course. The vests will protect you and must be worn inside the course.”
She reached over and pushed a red button. The course sprang to life as mallets and axes smashed up and down, paintballs flew through the air, unmanned motorcycles zipped along the ground, and large, wooden barrels swung back and forth.
Miss Grimes pointed to the plaque. “This plaque lists the names of those who have completed the course with the fastest times over the years.” She laughed, “At this point, I’d be more concerned about finishing than I would be about breaking any records.
“Everybody line up!” ordered Miss Grimes. “The rules for the course are as follows. First, no rite control. Second, do not enter the course until the recruit in front of you gets to the second middle wall. You’ll hear a bell. Any questions?” No one raised a hand. “Good. Off you go.”
They formed a line and began running through the obstacle course, one by one. Mud pits, rope swings, spinning stairways, and water traps were just a few more of the obstacles Lincoln noted. Two walls, at least thirty feet high with not
hing to grab on to except for a ladder ending fifteen feet above the ground, marked the halfway point of the course. The recruits were given three attempts to jump and reach the ladders. For those who failed, a rope was dropped from the ceiling. More obstacles followed the walls, including the mud pit with the unmanned motorcycles.
“This will get easier as time goes on,” Miss Grimes shouted as yet another recruit needed the rope on one of the middle walls. About half of the recruits had now completed the course. Jack was next in line.
The bell sounded and Jack leaped through the entry gate, off like a flash. He swung across the first mud pit and then crossed the balance beams and climbing ropes with amazing speed. He passed several more obstacles before getting to the first wall and jumping as high as he could. Lincoln’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he watched Jack catch the top of the wall with his outstretched hands, skipping the ladder entirely. He jumped off the wall, repeated the feat at the second wall, and raced through the rest of the course, passing another recruit before crossing the finish line and bending over, breathing heavily.
Miss Grimes began clapping, clearly impressed. “Congratulations, Jack,” she told him and then pointed to the plaque. Jack James (12:18) replaced Evan Reynolds (12:20) in 5th place. On his first attempt, Jack had made the board!
All the Finn recruits cheered, aside from Banks, who sulked in the corner, his arm still bandaged. Jack smiled and waved. The other recruits went back to the obstacle course, tackling it with renewed vigor.
Soon enough, Lincoln was next in line. Dread filled his stomach as he crouched at the starting line, whispering to himself, “Just don’t come in last ... just don’t come in last,” over and over again. The bell rang, and he was off. He made it through the first half of the course without too much difficulty, although he did take a paintball to the neck and another one to the back of the head. He even managed to grab the first of the middle ladders on his third jump.
The second half of the course didn’t go nearly as well. He couldn’t catch the second ladder and had to wait for the rope. On the next obstacle—a rotating balance beam fifteen feet above the ground—he failed to see a swinging mallet until it was too late. It smashed into his chest and knocked him off the beam. He crashed to the floor, losing his breath from the impact, but grateful for the vest that saved him from at least a few broken ribs. No longer worried about finishing last, Lincoln now just wanted to live.
The Academy Defenders Page 8
