by A. L. Knorr
“I’m often wary of suggesting Taekwondo and even Karate because of the tendency to sportify them,” Alfred explained after I’d landed a roundhouse that spun a hanging dummy like a top. “But with fire-power those kicks could send a man bum over brains in a hurry.”
Mentally shuffling through the rolodex of techniques he’d shown me, I relived the thrill of springing up and landing a tornado kick. I’d come down on my toes, every nerve tingling. I’d felt more alert, the fatigue of the session washing away in a heady rush. I grinned and the hair on my arms bristled pleasantly. I couldn’t wait to add fire-power to my jumps and kicks. “I do like the Taekwondo. It’s like aerial ballet that kicks ass.”
Alfred chuckled and took a drink of water, stoppered his bottle and set it on the table. “You like the acrobatics, the explosiveness. If it’s Taekwondo you are drawn to, I’d suggest approaching Tomio for additional coaching. We encourage our more capable students to tutor others. He has the experience and patience to not only teach you Taekwondo and its relation to other styles, but how to develop the improvisation and auxiliary skills you’ll need to keep it effective.”
I nodded, recalling Tomio’s fierce, dark eyes and handsome features. “Does that mean I won’t be getting instruction from you anymore?”
Alfred’s smile spread brilliantly beneath his mustache. “Oh, my dear, you’re not that lucky. Come, we still have a few minutes remaining.”
Fifteen
Slow Burn
The buzz of lunchtime conversation punctuated with bursts of laughter filled the cafeteria. Grabbing a tray, I set it on the shelf in front of the serving station and slid it along, selecting roasted potatoes, mushy peas, a slice of roast beef with gravy, and a chocolate milk from the fridge at the end. Arcturus Academy food was mainly English, though on rare occasion the chefs would make something more adventurous. I didn’t have anything against potatoes or Yorkshire pudding, but four or five days a week was a bit much.
Lifting my tray from the counter I turned to find somewhere to sit and almost crashed into Gage.
“Hey!” He looked like a firework had gone off in his stomach. His eyes were bright and his smile wide.
I laughed as I steadied my tray. “Down boy. Why do you always look like you’ve won the lottery?”
“When I run into you, I have won the lottery.”
My stomach flipped like a pancake. “If that wasn’t so sweet I would make fun of you for the pure cheese factor.”
He grinned and put a hand on my back, pointing to an empty seat where a steaming tray of food waited to be devoured. I followed him over to the table and sat down across from him.
“I see you’ve already grabbed dessert.” I pointed my fork in a threatening way at Gage’s pavlova. “Smart. That one always goes first, even if it is usually undercooked.”
Gage pulled his dessert away with his eyes narrowed. “What do I get in exchange?”
Pointing my index finger at his meringue I sent a small jet of flame over the edges, just enough to toast and brown it beautifully.
Gage’s eyes widened and he stuck his tongue out as I turned the fire off. “Deal. We can share.”
“No fire in the cafeteria, Cagney.” Jade’s snide tone called from two tables away.
Professors Winkler, Hupelo, and Dr. Price paused in their conversation, calculating eyes scanning the room.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jade.” I leaned back so the teachers could see that there was no fire anywhere around me. They went back to their lunch.
I faced Gage as he bent his head down over the table. Before I realized what he was doing, he planted a kiss on the back of my hand. A fierce heat blossomed from the point of contact and traveled up my arm and into my heart. I gasped as the sensation caused fireworks of an entirely different kind to explode low in my belly.
Gage straightened, his gaze on my lips. His thoughts were so naked that I felt a blush rise up my neck. What would it feel like to kiss?
“Cheeky.” My voice was even huskier than normal.
“I just wanted to see if the bond worked when I used something other than a hand to touch you.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And?”
“I feel like a blowtorch went off in my face.” His blue eyes sparkled.
Feeling the eyes of others on us, I cast my gaze down and took a bite of roast potato, not really tasting it. I wondered if my smile looked as goofy as it felt.
Gage and I moved to safer subjects, chatting about our classes as we finished lunch and dessert. With twenty minutes to spare, he walked with me to my room to pick up my laptop.
“Want to play poker with us tonight? Tomio, Dar and I are trying to get a weekly game going.”
“Do you actually bet real money?” I closed the door to my room and we made our way toward the library.
“Nah. It’s not technically against the rules but the headmaster doesn’t approve. We bet vending machine chits.”
“As tempting as it sounds, I have too much homework to do.” It wasn’t easy to squash the disappointment I felt at having to spend my evening with schoolwork instead of Gage, even if it meant sharing him with a bunch of poker players.
“Maybe next time.” Gage smiled and bounced away on his toes, unaffected by my inability to join him. In some ways, he was so easy to read, but in other ways he was completely opaque. He was always happy to see me, but he appeared just as happy to see other students too. He had a flirtatious way of talking with me which made me feel special, but then he didn’t really change his demeanor when he spoke to other girls. He had kissed my hand though, and in the middle of all our peers. I hadn’t seen him do that with anyone else.
As I crossed the fire-gym’s expansive floor to where Basil waited in the far corner, my nerves crackled. The fire licked up the inside of my ribcage like an excited puppy. I’d enjoyed my combat class with Alfred, but I was dying to actually apply my fire.
A plain fireproof Arcturus t-shirt encased my torso, closely fitted so there was no loose fabric to catch on anything. I’d worn the slim-fitting fireproof trousers because an email from Secretary Goshawk had advised me not to wear a skirt for today’s lesson.
The headmaster straightened from where he’d been fiddling with the dials on a dashboard. The board was attached to a drawer, which Basil had slid out from behind a panel in the wall. He was wearing an Arcturus uniform not dissimilar to mine, only his shirt was long sleeved. It was the first time I’d seen him without a blazer or sports coat.
“Welcome to your first Fire Skills class, Saxony.”
“Thank you.” I flexed my hands and fingers, itching to feel heat pouring through them.
“Usually part of the first skills class is spent going over terminology, but I’d rather get right to things and teach you terminology as we go. Do you agree?” Basil turned to face me. Something about him was different. It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
I nodded. “Absolutely. I already learned some from Wanda.”
“What do you remember?”
“Ignition is lighting fires, obviously.” I numbered them off on my fingers as I went. “Extinguishing and throwing, both of which are obvious: putting flames out and casting them. Quenching, which is cooling hot materials down by pulling heat out of them. Drawing, which is basically moving the flames from one place to another, which can be done internally or externally. Pitch is detecting temperature through touch. Detonation, which is utilizing fire-power in the joints to fuel movements and can be external, meaning the fire-light is visible, or internal or concealed, meaning its invisible. And detection, which is detecting the presence of fire with one’s mind.”
“Good.” Basil nodded. “When you were here last you showed me how you could detonate internally to power your movements. It’s there I’d like to return because you signed up for combat classes and you’ll have to master detonation to work in tandem with whatever style of combat you choose.”
The headmaster began
pressing buttons on the dashboard so I came closer to peer at the panel.
“Then,” he continued, “I had you detonate behind a punch—a pushing movement. Today …” he entered a code and a quiet hum filled the gym, “I’d like to see you use the fire to pull. Specifically, to climb.”
Vertigo swept over me as a portion of the wall to our left began to move. At first a panel slid forward, then one side swept across the floor toward us while the other side swept back; the whole thing spinning on a huge central hinge that was thicker than me. The floor beneath the panel turned along with it, fanning out pie-shaped wedges. I watched as a climbing wall came into view. The half-circle shaped floor at its base was cushioned with firm mats. Two fixtures at the top of the wall dangled with pulleys so a duet of climbers could use it at one time.
“Have you ever been to a climbing gym, Saxony?” Basil gave the digital screen another command and one of the pulleys hummed, lowering itself to the ground. A harness dangled from the end.
I nodded. “When I was young. My parents took us to a local rec center on rainy weekends. They had a climbing wall and a bouldering cave, sometimes we would play on them”
“Good. Then you know what to expect. We have a bouldering cave here as well but today, we’ll stick to the wall. This harness is easier to put on than the one you would have used at your gym. You won’t need to fuss with knots.” He tilted his head, indicating I should put it on.
While I crossed the padded floor to the harness, the headmaster told me about the fixture.
“This wall is constructed out of fireproof materials but that’s the least impressive of its features. It’s an engineering marvel, the only one of its kind in the world.” He made a few adjustments of the controls, looking back and forth between the dashboard and the wall like a proud dad. “This wall is made up of six panels, but I’ve engaged only one. When I initialize the rest of them—”
More quiet hums filled the gym as five additional modules opened like an accordion from behind the original. The whole thing moved on tracks in the ceiling. Six circular floors, one at the base of each wall, fanned open and flattened to level.
“Whoa.” My neck creaked as I tilted my head back and took in the variety of surfaces. The fire jumped in my belly, eager to put itself to the test.
The wall I was currently connected to was no more than eight feet wide and mapped with holds of different colors and shapes, as you’d expect in any climbing gym. The panel to the immediate right was an excellent imitation of the stone façade of a building. The third panel was a slick surface that looked like black marble with only small pegs protruding from the wall. The remaining three were varied and unique as well: neoprene fiber ropes, small square bricks, and the last was layers of wrought-iron balconies like the outside of an apartment building. The space between the balconies was too wide to reach without jumping. It looked impossible to climb.
I looked back at the headmaster. “Are you telling me that a mage can climb all of those?”
“And more. Each of these panels—with the exception of the one with the balconies—can be flipped to reveal yet another unique surface. But let’s not waste further time. To start, I’d like you to climb using only the red holds.”
“Using my fire, I assume?”
“As you like.”
I put a hand on a red hold at eye level and also gripped the one above my head. When I lifted a foot to find a hold, I realized my first problem.
“Shouldn’t I be wearing climbing shoes?”
Basil had his fingertips over his mouth and I thought he’d been smiling while my back was turned. “What do you think, Saxony?”
My first test? I frowned and looked down at my fireproof boots. There had been no climbing shoes in the academy shop, and these boots would only hinder me.
I stepped back and bent down to take the boots off. The headmaster didn’t stop me so I assumed I was on the right track. I’d never sent the fire into my toes before, except unconsciously when I ran, but there was a first time for everything.
Kicking the boots aside, I returned to the wall and began to climb. The fire warmed my hips and shoulders. A short way up the wall I paused, thinking about how I could get the fire to work for me. Detonating fire in my joints the way I did with explosive movements wasn’t going to work in this situation.
Curious, I sent the fire down my right arm as I reached for a hold. Heat slid down my arm to my hand as I gripped the hold and began to pull myself up. As my muscles flexed and tension filled my fingers, they hardened as if turning to stone from the inside. It was like having iron hooks on the end of my palms. So strong! The feeling bled back through my wrist, up my arm and into my shoulder and back. It was a feeling of a slow power, like the gradual but inevitable hydraulically-powered jaws of a car-crusher. I grinned at the new feeling and lifted my body easily toward the next hold, sending the fire into my left side and repeating the process. When I wanted to release a hold, the solid feeling dissolved, leaving my fingers and hands a little tingly.
“Remember your legs,” Basil called from below. “They are more important than your arms.”
I’d only just gotten a feel for this slower utilization of power between the two sides of my body. Detonation was easier than this, it happened without having to think too hard, but these slow movements left a lot of time for thinking. I paused on the wall and hung there while I thought about delivering fire into my legs while not losing it in my arms.
Suddenly, fire detonated in my right hip, knee and ankle, sending me leaping up the wall and gasping with surprise. For a moment, I levitated. Scrabbling for a hold to catch before I fell, I grabbed at the wall in a panic with both hands, knuckles locking as heat surged through them. Two sharp snaps echoed through the gym and then I was falling, stomach lurching. My head bobbed on my neck as the pulley system caught me. Swinging back and forth, my heart thudded as I dangled and looked down to see two broken holds hit the mat.
The headmaster watched the broken fixtures bounce, then looked up with a frown.
I gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
“Do I need to show you what we’re going for here, Ms. Cagney?”
Again with formality; I didn’t sense that I should say no. Besides, any opportunity to see Basil in action was an opportunity I would take. But had I been doing that badly?
“Okay.”
I found the switch on my harness and depressed it, lowering myself back to the ground. Hitting the floor, I unsnapped the harness and held it out for him. But he shook his head while he kicked off his shoes.
“I’ll keep my fire visible so you can see what I’m doing.” To my surprise, he approached the panel with the stone façade, not the climbing wall I had just been on.
“When it comes to pulling motions and slow-burn, think of the fire like taffy. You’ve shown skill with fast detonations, but in the same way that a slow squat is harder than a fast one, slow-burn takes more control and power.”
As the headmaster turned his back to me, the glow of his fire flickered visibly through the back of his shirt. Reaching for a high stone, the light moved down his arm and into his hand, but it also remained in his torso. It really did seem to stretch and ooze through his body like warm caramel.
He began to climb steadily, his torso and limbs flickering and glowing like coal. Light leeched through one arm and then the next, lingering in one hand before sliding smoothly out the other hand, and alternating the same way out each leg and foot.
Halfway up the wall he increased his speed, almost leaping his way from stone to stone until he reached the top. At the top, he hoisted himself over the lip to sit sixty feet above the floor. His body tensed.
My hand flew to my mouth when I realized he was about to—
Jump!
Landing in a squat on the floor, an echo of bright yellow light flashed from his body as fire cushioned his landing, a partially concealed detonation he controlled because if he hadn’t I would have been blinded. He straightened.
“That was bloody incredible,” I sputtered.
“Thank you.” He gave a half bow, eyes sparkling. “Think you have the idea?”
I nodded, hands fisting as I approached the harness for another go.
An hour later and I’d not only made it the top of the climbing wall using fire to propel my body smoothly, I’d also climbed the stone wall, which was much less daunting now that I understood that my fingers and toes were so much stronger when the fire was utilized in the slow-burn way.
Basil still wouldn’t let me ditch the harness though, or jump. He said jumping from such height was another lesson entirely. I told him about how I’d managed to cushion a fall when I’d been chasing the intruder and he said I had good instincts, but a high drop was different than catching a stumble or a fall from nearer the ground.
As the headmaster put the climbing walls away and I strapped back into my boots, I caught a sniff of my armpit and wrinkled my nose.
“I smell like creosote.”
My clothing was damp from perspiration and smelled like it had been sitting inside a wood stove for a few years.
“Drink plenty of water. You did good work today, Saxony. You’ll be wanting to change before your next class.” Basil covered the digital panel and rolled it into its drawer. The entire apparatus had accordioned itself away into the wall. It was remarkable how many things seemed to be hidden from sight in this school. Made me wonder what else had been secreted behind its walls.
“I’m not sure how I’ll manage tackling English Lit after a Fire Skills class.” I got up and stretched my arms overhead, tilting my body from side to side. “That was super fun, but why do I feel so weird?”
“You’ve never had a slow-burn workout before,” Basil said as he plucked his jacket from where he’d left it on a hook. “Your body will tighten up if you don’t stretch it, just like it would after any exercise its not accustomed to.”
