The Complete Seven Sorcerers Trilogy

by Julius St. Clair

  Sure, he could listen well enough.

  The problem was that he just didn’t care.

  So even though he felt bad for a moment, the feeling passed just as quickly. And in the end…he shrugged off his temporary shame and went through the motions that would ultimately lead to the end of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” he replied autonomously. “I should’ve done more…especially after Mom left.”

  “I understand you needed time to cope. You were little, and I know how much of a Mama’s boy you were—”

  James’ apologetic demeanor cracked.

  “—but I think four years is more than enough time for—how old are you now? Twelve?”

  “You know I’m older.”

  “I just call it like I see it.”

  “Hey, is there an early carriage to the Academy? I think if I pack really fast, I can get there ahead of schedule. You know, decorate my dorm room.”

  His dad laughed. He got the message.

  “We’ll have plenty of time apart before tomorrow comes,” he said. “Though it seems like an eternity.”

  “Tomorrow? What do you mean? I only have one day? One day?! Is that really all?”

  “What does it matter? Am I cutting into your beauty sleep?”

  “No, I mean…I only have until tomorrow to listen to your sarcasm and insults? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m overwhelmed with joy.”

  “About to cry, aren’t you?” his dad smirked and James responded in kind.

  It was a moment that occurred all too often. A mutual understanding laced with sarcastic humor. An understanding that let them both know that there was no point in wasting each other’s time. Their relationship wasn’t working, and as a result, his father had decided it would be better for them both if James left.

  James didn’t blame him. He knew he held his father back. From his dreams, his work, his honor. He was ashamed of his son and it was painfully obvious—the distant gaze in his eye whenever he stared at his son; the clench of his fists whenever James opened his mouth in defiance. Every day that James lived in his house was one day closer to him losing his sanity.

  Better for his son to leave now so that he could live his life free and clear. Or at least until James died...then he could go to the village square with a new song—one of his courageous son, who bravely joined the most dangerous academy in the whole world and fell by the sword with great honor and dignity.

  It wasn’t said between them…but they both agreed that he wasn’t coming back.

  No one returned from the Sentinel Academy.

  No one.

  There were no such things as parades or welcome home celebrations, letters sent home, or postcards from exotic locations. Death had become so common for the families of the recruits that some even had a funeral for their sons and daughters the day after their departure. Still, the Academy would never close, no more than a morgue could. As long as there were warm bodies to fill its walls, the Academy would always be in business.

  No one knew much about the school and what lay inside. There was simply an unsaid agreement that it was essential for their survival. No one talked specifically about what they were being protected from, but the citizens—especially the adults—were undeniably afraid of…something. A creak of a settling building brought sighs of discomfort and yelps of surprise. A citizen running a little too fast for the general populace’s taste brought about cries of worry and a wave of shutting doors and windows.

  And through the panic, their children suffered even more—of a fear of the unknown, never given an explanation as to what horrors ailed them so. The children were simply expected to obey their parents’ orders, because it was said to be what’s best for their well-being. And James realized that this was the reason no one would come to his aid if he announced his father’s wrong. The youth may secretly uproar, but only in secret—over the fear that their own parents may see their disobedience and think they too needed a lesson in maturity.

  A lesson the Academy was sure to teach.

  James wasn’t completely oblivious. He understood the purpose of a training school. Whatever enemies the Kingdom had, whatever evils were outside their walls—it was necessary to keep them at bay. The Sentinel Academy—the training facility for the Kingdom’s infantry…they had to be doing an adequate job, even if no one ever returned to confirm this belief. But James knew he couldn’t survive there. There was no doubt about that.

  And that’s why he decided to run away.

  Sure he’d pack, say his good-byes, and even head in the Academy’s general direction, but he would never make it to the entrance. When it came down to it, he’d rather betray his Kingdom than be sent off to die. It was finally time to gain the freedom he had longed for and who knew what services he could offer another village or another Kingdom? There had to be a better life than this.

  “I guess I’ll say my good-byes in the morning,” James replied, getting up to go to his room. “Until then, take care.”

  “You’re not going to spend some time with your dear old dad?”

  “See you tomorrow,” James said bitterly.

  He made his way upstairs, climbing each step sluggishly as if they pulled at his soles. Still, it was the burden wrapped around his shoulders that really bothered him. He had dreamed of leaving his father for as long as he could remember, but it was undeniable that he had a good thing going on at home. Free food, free shelter, no debt and the only downside were his father’s random, irrelevant lectures. The thought “Mom would let me stay forever” crossed his mind, but he let it pass quickly. He didn’t think of his mother much, and there was no point really. Except for a few mementos and trinkets of nostalgia strewn around the house, a stranger would barely even know she existed.

  Lazily, he sludged through the organized mounds of junk cluttering his room, making it feel like a crawlspace. Thank the Maker I haven’t attracted any major insects over the years, he thought. Actually, there hadn’t been a single fly buzzing around the house in months. The notion was strange to him but he soon shrugged off the thought. The insects wouldn’t be missed.

  He plopped down on his sanctuary as hard as he could, knowing the goose feathers would envelope him like a cloud. It felt just as soft. He often found himself on his bed and not just for sleeping. It was his self-proclaimed “thinking cap.” And as if on cue, as soon as the silk-like pillow caressed his cheek and the blankets caressed his skin, the dam broke, and a flood of memories poured through his mind—faster than he could sort through. There was no rhyme or reason behind what he chose to think about.

  Usually, the flood would consist of what was for dinner that night or who was interested in whom at school. This time, however, it was all about the Academy. And the influx of worry was so strong, it felt like the levees were going to crumble and he was going to lose himself in a never-ending depression.

  The Academy.

  That Oblivion.

  That suicide mission.

  The recruits worked so hard to defend a Kingdom that never seemed to be attacked, and it wasn’t really worth protecting. He had heard that nearly half of the recruits didn’t even survive the training. What kind of regiment was that?

  James sucked his teeth in disdain and pressed the pillow firmly to his ear, as if he were closing the door to a vault. Shutting his eyes as tight as he could, he concentrated only on the darkness engulfing his vision. And before he knew it, he was asleep.

  ***

  “We should get some lunch,” a voice said from a distance, breaking through his subconscious. “I had oats for breakfast. You know how that stuff goes through me.”

  “I know. It digests in like half an hour.”

  “At least you get a half hour. I feel like I’m eating air.”

  “Doesn’t your Mom make you bacon and eggs anymore? You used to brag about that every morning while I had to suffer on porridge.”

  “She says I gotta watch my weight. No girl’s going to want me if I’m fat.”
r />   “Your Mom said that? That’s kinda harsh.”

  “She’s just saying that cuz she wants me to get married, eventually get a job and take care of her someday.”

  “It’s still weird for a mom to say.” The voice stopped. James was vaguely aware of some scraping of shoes on the gravel outside of his window. There was a moment of silence.

  “There goes my stomach again.”

  “That was your stomach?!” the second voice cried in alarm. “Sheesh, I thought it was a gopher or something.”

  “How do you know what a gopher sounds like? Do you even know what a gopher is?”

  “Hey, just thought of something…since we’re here, shouldn’t we see if James wants some lunch too?”

  “What time is it?”

  A pause.

  “Two o’ clock. Prime steak with extra onions time.”

  “Then we shouldn’t bother. It’s not even four in the afternoon. You know he’s never awake before then.”

  “Then how does he get to school?”

  “Most days he doesn’t. You know that.”

  “And he’s passing?”

  “No,” the voice said flatly.

  “Man, that’s cold. Shouldn’t you lower your voice? He might hear you.”

  “He knows who he is. He won’t care.”

  The voices trailed off as the last sentence forced James awake. There was no way he was going back to sleep now. And as slow as they walked, he figured he could perform his morning ritual and still catch up to them. Jennings was going to pay. He had to be the one who made that last comment. His mouth lacked a filter, and James suddenly had a mind to give him one. What right did he have passing judgment so casually? So what if James had told him he was a “slacker, born and raised?” That didn’t mean he could talk about him behind his back. It was time to settle the score.

  James rolled off the bed to his hands and knees, quickly busted out twenty push-ups, turned around to give the Maker a quick “thank you,” and then immediately launched himself into a pile of clothes, threw on his favorite coat, and ran out of the room. He could still hear his friends talking at the street corner when he burst out of the house and hit the ground running.

  They had to be on their way to Stuff and Gorge, the only working restaurant in Allay. It was bound to be crowded, but no one seemed to mind. Not only was it the sole place to eat out, it was also very cheap and all-you-can-eat, which meant everyone in the Kingdom had this place to thank for the muffin tops they called a stomach. James was grateful for his fast metabolism.

  It didn’t take long to catch up to them.

  Jennings may have been a football star, and an athlete with little to no fat on him, but his partner in crime was Korey, a faithful customer of Stuff and Gorge. No doubt he was keeping them at a comfortable pace.

  James tried sneaking up on them but he was sure Jennings caught him out the corner of his eye as they turned onto the next street. The following conversation confirmed it.

  “Was that James just now?” Jennings asked rhetorically.

  “Let me see…was it a light-skinned, short-haired teenager with the same loose black shirt, dark blue pants and ‘vintage’ coat?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “Then yes, we saw him. I think he was attempting to scare us.”

  “Even his tricks are lazy.”

  “Guess you guys just love to gossip, huh?” James remarked, knowing his cover was blown. Jennings smirked with his signature pretty-boy smile. The smile that made simple-minded villagers forgive all his dirty dealings.

  “The only reason we said those things was because we knew you were there,” Jennings replied, moving out of the path of a moving pile of hay. The village was catching its second wind, finishing up the mid-day chores and transactions. James usually didn’t notice, but today for some reason, he didn’t mind taking in the smell of manure, straw, and sweat permeating the air. It was disgusting, but it was home.

  “Still no reason to talk about my clothes or my character,” James’ voice cracked as he matched the stride of his friends.

  “Alright. Alright. I’m sorry. You can be so sensitive…but while we are on the subject, why do you wear the same clothes every day? Especially that coat. Is it a family heirloom or something?”

  “It was my father’s. My mother gave it to him a few days before she left. When she disappeared, he gave it to me. He felt like she had been planning her departure for a while, the way she gave it to him.”

  “What’s it say on the back again?”

  “Farewell.”

  “Oh, that’s dark,” Jennings said, his voice trailing off.

  “So, James,” Korey interjected. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “A couple of friends of mine wouldn’t shut up outside my window.”

  “Aww,” Jennings laughed. “I know how getting less than twelve hours messes up your whole schedule. Need some coffee?”

  “Nah, lunch with you two should wake me up, especially if Korey’s eating. It’s like watching ants rip an injured fly apart—disgusting, but it’s sure hard to look away.”

  “Hey,” Korey laughed. “You don’t eat like a civilized human being yourself.”

  “The fact is, both of you disgust me,” Jennings said firmly. “But having you around is the only way I get to show my face at the restaurant. The way you two load up your plates, no one bothers glancing at mine. I can eat to my heart’s content and still maintain my reputation.”

  “James, you got money right?” Korey asked abruptly.

  “Of course,” he declared proudly. “I horde my money like we’re about to have a famine.”

  “Just asking. Because I was just wondering if your father cut your allowance again.” Korey chuckled as he tripped over his own foot. The conversation didn’t miss a beat. They were used to his clumsiness, especially around the raised cobblestones that covered the ground. Jennings was usually quick to make a smart remark but since they had been friends for so long, no one thought much of it. Jennings was often aware of his comments but only after they had already been said, and so each day in the privacy of his home, he would silently pray that his friends wouldn’t find him too arrogant.

  The villagers saw only the superstar jock, and while he loved the attention, he knew that he needed real friends too. The kind he could talk to uncensored and raw about life, women, and where he needed help in his short-comings. Friends that would love him no matter what, even if the general public would someday turn against him. He was a jerk, but he was their jerk, and he was happy to remind them just how corrupted his thinking was at times. James, on the other hand, wasn’t quite ready to bear his all in front of others, even to those close to him.

  “What’s my father got to do with anything?” James asked.

  “Whenever I think about your father,” Korey sighed. “And it’s a lot—”

  “—weird—”

  “—I think about him trying to grow corn on that fertile ground and how he still hasn’t managed to do it. I know you didn’t get your money from him, so I was wondering what he actually sells. The clothes on his back? The food he secretly buys from the market? I’ve seen the jars in your house. That’s gotta be it. And it would explain why you ran outside so fast. You must be starving!”

  “We’re doing fine actually…somehow. I think my dad has a side job he’s not telling me about. There’s no way he could still own the farm with what he grows. His savings have to be shot by now. I don’t know how he manages.”

  “Can’t be a side job,” Korey said. “Small village like this? Too many people would know who he is. Do you have a job you’re not telling anyone about?”

  Jennings burst out laughing.

  “Good point,” Korey said. “Well, about your dad then. Did you ask him how he keeps the farm afloat? I mean, you have that house. It’s not the castle or anything, but it’s still the biggest house in the village.”

  “I asked him once,” James said flatly, looking over to Jennin
gs. “But he just yelled out that farming is all he needs or something. I didn’t really hear the whole thing.”

  “Typical,” Jennings muttered. “Hey look, there’s the restaurant.”

  The restaurant was actually Sally Marie’s house. Sure, the place was small, and in serious need of expansion, but that didn’t stop the villagers from crowding into any vacant chair or corner they could find. By clearing out the first floor and replacing all the furniture with wooden tables and cushioned chairs, every room but the kitchen had become a dining room. Legend had it that she slept on the roof when the place closed down for the night. The villagers whispered that the Maker himself bestowed recipes from Paradise upon her while she slept up there. Her food was so good, even the most ornery of villagers swore to its authenticity.

  Stuff and Gorge had been an instant success upon its opening and had been in business before James and his friends were born. Jennings used to tease Korey, saying that Sally Marie was secretly his grandmother and that that’s why he’d gotten doubly fat while the rest of the villagers were just fighting off a couple of fleshy tires. Korey rarely took offense to the insult. He genuinely wished they were family.

  “The line goes all the way out the door,” Korey whined when their destination came into view.

  “You expected different?” Jennings grunted in annoyance. He obviously had.

  “Still, it’s worth the wait. Seriously, where does she get all that food?”

  “Probably steals it from James’ dad. It’s why we never see the crops.”

  James chuckled, despite himself. Sally Marie had to have had a deal with half of the farmers to be able to meet the demand.

  “I can’t say too much,” Korey said, rearing up on his tip-toes to see over Michael Crick’s ginormous head. He was a tall and wide theater director, ritually stuffing and gorging himself after a particularly atrocious rehearsal. Korey continued the conversation.

  “Can’t say much at all,” he repeated.