“If I tell you my name, you’ll be obligated to tell me yours, and then I might get sentimental when you’re killed in the field, so if it’s all right with you, I’d rather skip the introductions.”
The stranger stared him down, waiting for a reply as James stood up uncomfortably and brushed himself off. Was this a teacher here? Or someone playing a cruel joke? His voice was so foreboding and threatening that it bordered on the line of scary and entertaining.
“So, what do I call you in the mean time?”
“Just call him Kyran,” a deep, gruff and intellectual voice stated behind them. James instantly figured that the new figure arriving had to be an actual teacher. His voice begged to be heard.
“You’re no fun, Arimus. I wanted to greet this one.” Kyran said with no excitement whatsoever. Every sentence that came out of his mouth was monotone and just as sinister as his visage.
“You have odd tactics, my friend,” Arimus said. “But I must ask you to spare our company of what you would have dared to call yourself.”
Kyran didn’t say a word and handed James the satchel.
“Make no mistake,” Kyran said to him, leaning into his face. “Arimus is tougher than I am. Under that soothing temperament is the grace of a sledgehammer. Mind your tongue in his presence.”
James nodded nervously as Kyran studied his reaction. When he was satisfied, he walked off into the darkness like he was part of its ambience, his dark hair and black coat melting into the shadows.
“I know what you’re thinking, James,” Arimus said. “He looks like a black cat.”
He snorted at the thought but then he immediately gathered his composure in front of his superior. It was best to go through the motions and wait to see what was acceptable or not before he started playing around. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.
“You know my name,” he blurted out. It was probably not the most militaristic response, but Arimus didn’t seem to notice. Instead he motioned for James to walk with him as they traveled across the stretch of courtyard to the entrance of the school itself. James couldn’t help but be in awe over the man. He had to be about seven feet tall, with a build that was desperately trying to match his height in width. Behind the ancient, wool cloak that covered his body, James had no doubts that this man had muscles as big as his head underneath. There was not a shred of evidence indicating he was fat. Add this intimidating fact to the rugged gray beard shrouding most of his face and his steel blue eyes overflowing with wisdom, and James suddenly found himself listening intently before he realized it. He wasn’t sure why, but this man, in seconds, had gained his respect.
“It was not hard to figure out,” Arimus said assuredly. “Considering only one recruit was to arrive today, and his name was James.”
“True, sir,” he stated mindlessly, not sure what to say.
“You may call me by my proper name. Arimus. You will find that there are few formalities here.”
“R-uh-moss?” he mouthed, like there was a bad taste in his mouth.
“Close. It’s pronounced air-a-muhs.”
“Ah.”
“And the soldier you had the pleasure of meeting a moment ago was Kyran. A little off-putting at times, but one you can trust with your life. After all, that is one of the requisites of becoming a full-fledged soldier. You must be reliable on all accounts.”
“You trust me with your life, Arimus?”
“No, James,” he stated flatly. ”Not yet. But that is one of the purposes of the Academy. To see if we can. Come, I will show you to your room. There you will find some food and the rest of the night is yours to do as you please. But tomorrow at dawn, the training begins.”
“Can I ask you something?” James said as they reached the end of the courtyard. The winds died down suddenly to a whisper.
“Of course.”
“Where is everyone? I can’t be the only one. Am I?”
“No, of course not. There are others, but before you can join the general class, you have to pass the preliminary course. It won’t take long. Until then, you will remain in solitude.”
“And what is the preliminary course?”
“That,” Arimus mused behind his scraggly beard, “will have to remain a mystery. An important part of the course is its uncertainty, designed to keep you up all night with wild notions and visions of deadly scenarios.”
“How is keeping me up all night supposed to help?”
“So you won’t have the clarity and dexterity you will need tomorrow. If you can’t pass this, there is no point in going further. It would be wise of you to take every test at the Academy as if your life depends on it.”
James regretted asking. The last thing he needed was to stay up all night wondering what he’d have to endure the next day, but now that was exactly what he was sure to do. Only one thing comforted him and gave him a sliver of hope. The fatherly tone in Arimus’s voice. From the sound of it, Arimus would be giving him the course in the morning, and he didn’t seem like a cutthroat proctor. Of course, that could all be a part of the façade, but there was still something trustworthy emanating from him. James had no doubt the mysterious test would be hard, but he figured that at the least, his life wasn’t in danger.
“I’ll take it seriously,” he said. Arimus glanced up at the entrance to the fortress that was the Sentinel Academy. The creaking oak doors opened for a second under a gust of wind and Arimus immediately shut it, giving James just enough time to see that the building inside looked more like a prison than a school. He felt his stomach knot up.
“This will not be a vacation,” Arimus confirmed. “But we do have the bare essentials.”
“I couldn’t have put it any better,” James said under his breath, recalling the abundance of grey colors and dreary decorations.
“This is actually not the original academy building, in case you are wondering. That was destroyed in the siege of ’88. I assume you know a little about our history.”
“My father tells me nothing.”
“You didn’t learn anything in school about the Kingdom? Particularly the siege of ‘88?”
“I can’t say I was an avid listener.”
“Then I will settle with telling you a little about the layout of this Academy. We’ll discuss history at a later date. However, if your mind strays, I will bring it back. Agreed?”
James took a deep breath, concentrating on the words that came out of Arimus’s mouth. He didn’t feel like getting slapped twice in the same night.
“I’m ready.”
“Well, as I hope you know, the Kingdom as a whole is not without its share of defenses. Besides its walls, it is also surrounded by a thick wall of vegetation, filled to the brink with lethal creatures and animals. If an enemy happened to survive the sixty mile hike through the forest, then they would have to somehow make their way through the shield of fog that circles the outer perimeter. Most of the fog is due to the heavy precipitation we receive and the condensation caused by the forest swamps.”
“Is that why it’s so gloomy around here?”
“Mostly. This training facility happens to be right on the edge of the fog shield.”
“Why?”
“This facility is the first line of defense in case of an attack. The south side, where we now stand, is the only entrance that faces out toward the other Kingdoms. The other sides are quite guarded, so unless they are very resourceful, the enemy must enter here, which for them is a very bad thing. The first thing they see as their vision slowly clears is the tint of our blades and their blood violently spilling to the ground.”
James followed Arimus’s eyes back to the colossal steel doors that he had come through earlier.
“The other three entrances are guarded on the outside by graduated sentinel armies. And climbing one of the high walls that surround us is physically impossible, and quite impractical, for even if someone had the dexterity and will to do so, we have archers at the ready at all times, hidden, and in waiting.”
“What else
is there to stop the enemy?” James asked in awe. He had never realized how protected the Kingdom of Allay really was. And the graduates had to be the best there was. How could someone guard a post for years without ever breaking cover? Without revealing themselves to a single villager?
“We have high sounding brass and copper instruments to accompany our first wave into battle. Due to a shortage of men, strategy is all we have. We cannot afford to go out into battle as some Kingdoms do, able to lose man for man, only winning simply because we have quantity. It is quality that we possess here, James. This is embodied in our motto: ‘We are not many, but they are few.’”
“So when they come out of the fog, the instruments are there to make the enemy think there are more than there really are,” James clarified.
“Yes. It is more of a fear of the unknown that betrays them more than anything else. We use that to our advantage. Every one of the four great Kingdoms have their own strategies when it comes to dealing with invading enemies.”
“What are the four Kingdoms? What are their strategies?” he inquired, very intrigued, and feeling ashamed that he hadn’t focused in school. Of course, teachers didn’t threaten to slap you for not paying attention there.
“That is for another time, James. As it is, there is little time to tell you of this one.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “But I do have one more question. Why does the only gateway to the south side lead first into an empty courtyard? There are no weapons on the pillars, or places an archer can shoot an arrow from except for the balcony I noticed above us. There’s no incline or low ground to give us one advantage or another. It’s all just flat ground under an open sky. There isn’t even a soldier on guard here.”
“Not to mention the lack of space,” Arimus continued. “There’s barely enough room to line up fifty men from one end to the other, let alone hundreds or thousands. Our infantry would be quite cramped and actually at quite the disadvantage.”
“Exactly.”
“James, do you know what the Sentinel Academy produces?”
“The Academy is kind of like the recruitment center for an army. This is where our infantry receive their training before going out into the world.”
“Very good. I see you have paid at least a tolerable amount of attention.”
“I have my moments.”
“James, the Sentinel Academy produces some of the finest men on the face of the planet. But where it truly shines is not through our infantry. You see, out of a hundred thousand students that step through our walls…a Sage emerges.”
“A Sage?”
“A Sage is usually defined as someone who is very wise, but there is more to it than that. When one becomes a Sage, they gain knowledge so profound, most faint at its very whisper. They acquire power that can rip an entire army in half with techniques, and skills forbidden to and hidden from the common man. A paradoxical creature that is both mighty and servile. Fearless yet kind. These few become the strong arm of our Kingdom. They are actually the sole reason the Kingdom of Allay still exists today. If you could only see the brutal yet elegant swing of a Sage’s sword as he battles hundreds of men pouring in ten by ten through this very courtyard…you would believe your own eyes were lying to you. A Sage could not do his or her job surrounded by thousands of liabilities. That is why this courtyard was made for the Sage and the Sage alone. There is hardly a watchman at this entrance, yet it is arguably the most guarded place in the entire Kingdom.”
James stared at the courtyard with newfound awe and respect. He had read of such men in the few books he had managed to read, but he never would have thought they actually existed. And to think, there was an Academy, only a few hours from the house he grew up in, that could train a boy to become one of those men. It was not a question of chance, or whether you were born into royalty. It was about dedication and hard work.
Something, he knew, that he did not possess.
Yet, here he was, taking that first step in the right direction, standing on the very gravel of countless battles, gazing upon the marks of mysterious blades scarred into the courtyard pillars. He could see those men, fighting their once proud enemies, now falling in both fear and reverence to what they had once dismissed as mere myth. A Sage standing before them, cool, tranquil, waiting—not for his enemy to strike, but for his own adrenaline to reach its peak. For the moment his blood ran cold and his muscles methodically moved with the blade that had become one with his hand. Quick, and so hideously precise, the Sage would take his next breath and a Kingdom’s army would fall to its knees.
For the first time in his life, James was filled with a sense of breathtaking awe, and he never wanted to forget the feeling. He wanted more, and there was only one way to get it.
“Arimus,” he said firmly.
“Yes?”
“I want to be a Sage.”
“Oh?” Arimus replied, looking curiously at the young recruit. James stood resolutely, unwavering in his declaration.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“You and every other student that has or will enter that gate,” Arimus said, refusing to sugarcoat his words. “James, I do not mean to crush your spirits, but even the strongest of the infantry fall short of a Sage’s status. If you can’t even beat one such as Kyran, for example, you have no hope.”
“Kyran is part of the infantry?”
“Yes, but his position is not something to gawk at. He is a brigadier general in the highest division of the infantry. Not a Sage, but still very formidable.”
“And what about you?” he asked quickly. “Are you a Sage?”
Arimus lowered his eyes in sorrow and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I wish I could say I was. Nothing would be a greater honor, but unfortunately, I am not.”
James looked away from Arimus in disgust, not because his new mentor hadn’t reached the coveted rank that so many strived for, but for the revelation that, in order to even think about becoming a Sage, he would have to defeat Kyran and Arimus in battle—two men that he figured could take decades to surpass.
“Your visage betrays you,” Arimus said. “I know exactly what you are thinking.”
“Arimus, why couldn’t you be a Sage?” James cried out. “Did you not pass the test?”
He was practically yelling, but he couldn’t restrain himself. He just couldn’t come to terms that this man—the first he believed that he could actually look up to and aspire to become, could not have reached the height of power. What went wrong?
“It’s not like I lacked the ambition. It was simply a matter of order. I was not destined to be a Sage, so I did not become one.”
Arimus’s mind trailed off, recalling past events. He came back to the present as soon as he could, and an amused smirk came over his face. He placed a firm and calloused hand on James’ head, who simply stood in awe at how the palm covered his entire crown. James glanced shamefully down at his own smooth, delicate hands, and scowled. They were so pristine, so inexperienced in all things known as work.
He could not become a Sage with such hands.
The Last of the Sages
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An Excerpt from Obsidian Sky
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The one-room schoolhouse was painfully tiny, and even more so now that nearly half of the village of Lowsunn was beginning to crowd in, each individual clamoring for a coveted seat on one of the few oak pews in the center. Consequently, anyone that was late was forced to stand upon their aching feet. The stampede of villagers kicked up a cloud of dust that eventually settled on the floorboards, which creaked under the collective weight. Though there were nearly two hundred villagers in attendance, no one said a word, the only sound being the groaning of the structure itself.
All of the extra desks and chairs had been removed. All unnecessary equipment had been locked away, and even the Elders of Lowsunn were surprised to see just how many students were able to fit into the boxy room. Within minutes, the only part of the floor n
ot occupied by a pair of weary shoes was a meager five foot square space in the front. There the science/history teacher stood with a maniacal smile, causing a few of his colleagues nearby to wince in disgust. Not one member of the excited audience, young or old, cared for teacher politics, and so they did their best to ignore the exchange. And really, it didn’t matter how much the other teachers hated Mr. Young. Nothing short of a fire was going to make them disperse. For the only time in the entire year, he had the spotlight, he had the goods, and everyone in attendance was there to make sure they were expediently delivered.
Mr. Young surveyed his audience with glee, rubbing his sweaty hands onto his custom red silk shirt as he silently hoped the ancient pews, brought in by his teacher aides, would be able to bear the weight. As the last of the villagers, a few of the elderly, squeezed in just beyond the double doors in the back, he cleared his throat and surveyed the room. They all waited for him to begin, giving their undivided attention and awe. Since the building only had six windows, three on each side, there was already little light in the room. Faceless bodies now blocked the meager sunlight that fought to enter, and the room was soon cast under a cloak of unsettling shadow. As unidentifiable eyes blinked off rapidly in Mr. Young’s direction, he closed his in satisfaction.
He concentrated.
And then beams of light shot through each of the windows, through the barrier of bodies, and into the room like a flood of water, filling every space in a matter of seconds. After it had maximized its presence in the room, most of it suddenly disappeared, and all that remained was a spotlight over Mr. Young, the source appearing to come from the windowless and moldy flat ceiling above. It was impossible for light to originate from that point, yet it did. The audience gasped in delight. Many had seen this presentation several times, but the moment never ceased to amaze. How Mr. Young was able to call forth the sun to magnify him, even through the solid blockades of both body and object, was a subject of much debate. It had to be magic.
He cleared his throat once more, and a blanket of silence descended upon the audience.
The Complete Seven Sorcerers Trilogy Page 56
