by Nikolas Lee
“This is it,” Oceanus said, her hands clasped together. “The first day of school!”
She looked back at Ion with a gleaming smile, and Ion forced one of his own. This is it, he thought in misery. The first day of school.
With a roar, Spike heaved open the doors, and the grounds of the coliseum came into full view. They treaded out onto a grassy field at least two hundred feet long, surrounded by grandstands of black stone, which towered toward the heavens. They walked to the center of the field, where Othum and two other gods awaited in silence. The air here smelled of flowers, though it hardly cheered Ion up. Standing in the shadow of three gods who, only a day ago, he’d blamed for the Detainment, was a bit much to wrap his head around.
But if he couldn’t hate them, he’d still profusely dislike them. Well, maybe not Vinya.
The Skylord stood with his hands folded behind his back and a goofy smile on his face—Vinya at his right and Esereez at his left. Esereez, with his charcoal skin and diamond-studded shoulders, was quiet and solemn. Vinya held a great bow like no other Ion had seen—one seven feet tall and constructed entirely of interlocking deer antlers. She winked at Ion and the corner of his mouth lifted in a timid smile.
“And so they arrive!” Othum said, as Ion and the other Guardians formed a line before him. “Children, I would like to start off this glorious day by first introducing you to my daughter, Vinya the Sweet, and my son, Esereez the Inventor.” The gods at his side bowed, low and graciously, which Ion had to admit was quite exciting. No one had ever bowed to him before, let alone two gods. “Vinya and Esereez are among the best and brightest of my brood. They shall act as the Constructs for the Achaean Academy—co-principals, if you will. Vinya is the current occupier of the Moon Throne, and one of the foremost protectors of jungles and woodlands, both coniferous and deciduous.”
Vinya blushed and bowed once more.
Othum continued, “Esereez here is the Highlord of Invention and has created most of the weaponry and armor you will encounter on the Acropolis. He has also asked me to tell you that...” Othum plucked a small scroll of paper out of a pocket in his robes and read with squinted eyes, “students should...watch and listen to him carefully this school year...for...he does not like to...repeat himself.”
Esereez grinned, but quickly straightened his lips in a serious, ask-me-nothing line.
“Though Spike here is already acquainted with them—Vinya and Esereez are, indeed, his cousins,” said Othum, “I want everyone to know that all schooling here at the Achaean Academy will be fair, and that no individual will get more privileges or attention than another. Now, the first one to bring me a pumpkin-spice macaroon gets an A for this semester!” Othum burst into laughter, and said, “I’m just kidding! I already had a macaroon earlier that was quite filling. And besides, we don’t grade you with A’s and B’s and all that mortal hum-dumb-agry.
“At the end of the school year, we will hold what are called the Class Verification Exams, where you will be tested on a number of levels to decipher your rank as a being who fights for the good of the Balance.”
“That’s the test you have to pass,” Oceanus whispered to Ion, and Ion listened even more closely.
“That will be the only test you’ll have here at the Achaean Academy,” said Othum, “but one that—depending on the outcome—will decide if you have pushed yourself enough to study here next year.” He leaned in and whispered, “Just don’t score below a Class Four. Now, let us begin the Induction Ceremony! First, I would like for you to please remove your bags and sandals.” As Oceanus and Spike hurriedly dropped their bags to the grass, and Ion wrestled off one of his sandals, Othum began to circle them. “Next, I would like for you all to close your eyes.”
Ion shut his eyes; though not before he made sure Oceanus and Spike had shut theirs first.
“Take a single deep breath,” Othum instructed, “and as you exhale, allow your regrets to leave your mind. Allow them to wash from your skin and feed the earth. For today, you’re reborn the Guardians. Today, you start your fight for the betterment of the Balance.”
There was a moment, when Ion had convinced himself of Othum’s words, where he heard nothing, felt nothing, and the blackness behind his eyelids became darker than it had ever been before. Ion was completely relaxed, completely at home on the Acropolis.
Othum’s voice returned, and Ion opened his eyes.
“You have all done very well,” Othum said, standing beside Vinya and Esereez once again. “What a fantastic day this has been! And it’s still only morning! Well, since my work here has concluded, I think I’ll be off to my tower now. All this talk of sweets has gotten my stomach rumbling.” Othum gave a childish smile and skipped off towards the coliseum gates.
Spike snapped around in his place, red with anger. “Are you kidding me?” he said before Othum could make a full escape. “You woke us up at six in the morning for that? What about the rest of the ceremony?”
Othum stopped skipping and turned around. “Well, that was the ceremony,” he replied, looking surprised that Spike had expected anything more. “You’re set! You’re a student of the Achaean Academy now. Rejoice, nephew! Today is a fantastic day!”
And just like that, Othum left the coliseum, skipping his way into the fortress. Oceanus beamed. Spike ground his teeth together. Ion wasn’t sure what to think.
Vinya stepped forward with a smile. “Gosh, I just love ceremonies!” She looked back to her brother and asked, “Esereez, would you please hand the Guardians their scrolls?”
He nodded and yanked three rolled-up parchments from his belt, passing them out with a quiet intimidation in each step he took. Up close, the god’s charcoal skin looked a deep purple. Ion stared, wondering: if his skin on the outside was made of rock…what was the inside made of?
“On the scrolls, you’ll find a list of classes each of you are to attend this year,” said Vinya, as her brother returned to her side. “Some classes you will share, other classes you will not. Much of it depends upon what your past incarnations studied, for what you excelled in then might very well be a subject you’ll excel in now.”
Ion unrolled the scroll of withered paper, and read...
~ GODLY TRAINING ~
Scheduling, Basics, and Books
MONDAY: WEAPON WIELDING
- Bring a single weapon of your choice: Barking Cannons, Hillgusters, or Flamespitters excluded.
NO EXCEPTIONS!
TUESDAY: ELEMENTAL ESSENTIALS
WEDNESDAY: OUTERWORLD HISTORY: AMERICAS TO ZIMBABWE*
&
RELIC COMPREHENSION
- Hammers and anvils provided.
THURSDAY: RACIAL STUDIES*
FRIDAY: BATTLES & BALLISTICS
- Held in the War Room.
*All books shall be provided.
Ion’s head was reeling: Flamespitters? Relic Comprehension? Zimbabwe? Whatever these classes were, he was sure they had nothing to do with math, or spelling, or anything he had studied before. And he didn’t hate the idea, which made him feel horribly guilty. While he was going to learn about the monstrous, flesh-eating creature he assumed Zimbabwe was, Father was in the Outerworld, fighting against the humans on behalf of these stupid gods, who smiled and ate macaroons all day.
Just do what you’re supposed to, he thought. Do what you’re supposed to and Father won’t have to fight anymore.
“Today’s class, as you might have noticed, is Elemental Essentials,” said Vinya. “Esereez and I will be your instructors on these days, and every Monday as well for Weapon Wielding. During these physical training classes, the coliseum field will be closed to any creature not of godly blood. Do not invite your friends to watch gods train, because maybe they’ll think it’s cool, or hip, or with it, as Outerworld children used to say. We feel it’s best that gods master their abilities away from other creatures. It can be quite a messy business.”
“Today’s first lesson will only be a preview of what’s to come,” said Esere
ez. “So, without any more useless rambling, Lady Vinya and I would like to see how well our Guardians can aim.”
Esereez stomped his foot to the earth, and two rows of wooden planks painted with bulls-eyes flipped up out of the grass behind him. And once the targets revealed themselves, they started zipping back and forth across the coliseum, moving so fast the red and white circles painted the air in blurry brushstrokes.
Ion wiped the sweat from his forehead, suddenly aware of how hot the sun burned today. I’ve never shot anything at anything!
Esereez and Vinya stepped out of the way, leaving nothing but grass in between the Guardians and their targets.
“One at a time now,” Vinya ordered. “Each of you must eliminate a single target.”
Spike went first, lowering his brow and baring his teeth. A sheet of sandstone washed over his tightened right hand. Spike took a mighty step forward and the rock lengthened, sharpened, and shot from his hand, impaling one of the moving targets with a pike of solid stone. He’d started god training years ago—that much was obvious.
Ion mopped more sweat from his forehead.
Oceanus stood on one leg, her eyes closed and her arms propped high in the air like cattails in the wind. In a flash Ion almost missed, she wind-milled her entire body through the air, whipping a thin strip of water out of the empty space around her. As her feet touched the earth, the wheel of liquid bolted toward the targets, shifted into a trident, and pierced one of the boards—smooth and perfect like the strike of a snake.
Ion was astonished. She’d only taken “a few classes” since she’d been on the Acropolis, yet she took out her target as though she’d seen just as much training as Spike. The most Ion could do was summon a breeze and adjust its temperature, but now that he no longer served Dread, that ability seemed utterly useless.
When he looked over at Oceanus, and she said, “Go on already!” he decided that for the rest of the day, they weren’t friends.
Ion shut his eyes. He tightened the muscles in his chest, and spread his feet apart. But before he could even draw in a breath, Vinya snapped away his focus.
“No, no, no!” she said, shaking her head.
“W-what’d I do?” he asked, prying open one of his eyes.
Esereez laughed quietly to himself. Vinya approached Ion with a forced smile, which made his stomach sink like he had just been asked what two plus two was, and replied thirty-three?
“Let’s make this your first lesson here on the Acropolis,” said Vinya. She tapped his legs and his arms with the tip of her Moon Bow. “Relaxed legs and strong arms control winds. Not a strict chest. You should also be feeling a slight tightness in your lungs. And furthermore, I’d like you to remember that on this field, you are Ionikus Reaves, Guardian of the Sky. I want you to feel pride for bearing such a title and I want to see that pride shining through. All right, my dear?”
He nodded, swallowed, and wiped another bucket of sweat from his forehead.
She walked back to Esereez and turned around. “Now, try again. But this time, solidify those arms and loosen those legs.”
Ion looked to the targets and focused on one as best he could. He loosened his legs. He tightened his arms. He felt his lungs constrict on their own, and a mighty wind kicked up around him. It howled through his hair, whipped through his tunic, and tore at the grassy field. And what Ion did next surprised even him. He propped his hands near his chest, with his palms facing one another, six inches apart. The waves of angry wind rolled over Ion’s shoulders, twisting and compacting as they wrapped around his arms and fed into a tiny pebble of an orb between his hands.
The others watched with gaping mouths until all the wind had been sucked into a gray sphere. Ion launched it at the wooden targets with a mighty pitch—the orb struck the target, and with a deafening roar, a hurricane of wind exploded out from the shattered piece of wood.
“Well done, my dear!” Vinya cheered. “Such power! Such control!”
Esereez agreed with a nod; Oceanus agreed with a hug. Ion smiled. The rush of power remained in his system for a bit longer, throbbing in his veins, warming his skin. Even Spike’s glare, which ate away at the side of Ion’s head, couldn’t bring him down. Ion had never felt more proud, and for the first time, Ion’s jaw began to tingle. And then...could it have been? Had Ion just felt it...throb? Like...like the beat of a heart?
But Ion quickly blamed it on his excitement and swept the thought aside. This was the first time he had felt like a god, and he wasn’t going to let his jaw ruin that, too.
Today he was Ionikus Reaves, Guardian of the Sky.
CHAPTER NINE
A BOLT OF LIGHTNING
After class was dismissed, Oceanus led Ion to the Mirrored Hall. “It’s a cafeteria of sorts,” she explained. “With mirrors...lots of mirrors.”
When the smell of chocolate grew thick in the air, Ion knew they were close. They turned the corner, and he stopped to take in the most amazing cafeteria he’d ever seen. The one at his old school was dark and damp, filled with the gravelly caws of Mrs. Grubb the lunch lady, who usually only served nasty-looking mashed potatoes with gravy that looked like a not-so-distant cousin of tar.
The smell of chocolate was so heavy in the air Ion could taste it. Eight walls towered around him, veiled by floor-to-ceiling mirrors that made the room seem endless. In the middle of the hall sat long, marble tables, accompanied by equally long benches, on which sat students of every race. There were short, fat-cheeked dwarves and tall, long-eared elves; giggly nymphs and towering giants, and even sprites, who were no taller than six inches, with leathery wings and mouths filled with sharp teeth.
Oceanus grabbed Ion’s hand and dragged him through the clutter of tables and benches. They shimmed past the giants on either side of them, who were so very large that Ion felt like he was stuck in between two mountains. One scooted too close and Ion was squished like a bug, but Oceanus grabbed him by the neck of his tunic and pulled him to freedom.
“You’re lucky I’m here,” she said. “One time I got stuck for the entire lunch.”
Ion smiled and when he turned to behold what Oceanus had led him to, he was sure all of this was a dream. Of all the tricks and magic the Acropolis had to offer, Ion decided there was nothing better than what he was seeing at that very moment. A table rose before him, long and bronze and proud—cluttered with plates, bowls, and trays filled...stuffed...overflowing with sweets of a very godly kind.
Oceanus pointed her favorites out. “These are Blister Bites,” she said, grabbing a handful of smoking, red cupcakes from their bowl and placing half on her plate and half on Ion’s. She took a macaroon that glowed a brilliant blue and sat it on her plate, then another that glowed a luminous pink, which she placed on Ion’s. “Glow Cakes,” she said. “They turn your mouth different colors; it’s lovely really, but don’t mix the wrong hues…no one likes talking to someone with a mouthful of puke yellow.”
“Um, Oceanus?” Ion asked, watching her grab a handful of Frostlings—sugar cookies glazed in actual frost.
“Yes?”
“Are we going to talk about why there are only sweet things here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love sweets, but…don’t we need other food? You know, food with nutrition?”
Oceanus laughed. “These are special sweets, silly!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re packed with nutrition, and not to mention enough sweets to give you hallucinations.” She winked, like hallucinations from too much sugar was a good thing.
“Well,” said Ion, staring hungrily at the sweet-filled plates in Oceanus’s hands, “if you say so.”
All those times Mother warned me about cookies, he thought, and now I’m going to be surviving on them.
“Time to find our seats,” said Oceanus, and again they strolled through the cafeteria. She sat their plates down on an empty table big enough to fit about six non-giants. “This is our spot,” she said. “The Guardians’ table.”
Ion could feel the stares
bearing down on him as he sat. He got warmer as he caught whispers about his hair, his freckles, and most especially his jaw. There were so many voices he couldn’t tell if they were being nice or rude.
“They’re all watching me, aren’t they?” he whispered.
“Of course,” Oceanus said. “You’re a Guardian, which automatically means more attention. And no offense, but the thing on your face doesn’t help matters much. It’s a bit distracting.”
Oceanus gingerly slipped a Glow Cake into her mouth, and as she chewed in delight, blue light began to seep out of the crack between her lips.
As Ion ate—and thought the entire time he had never tasted anything better than a Frostling, even as it numbed his mouth in ice—he looked about the room, his hand over his jaw. He knew he’d be unable to mask the iron, and the thought was both frustrating and sad. Ever since he’d became the Iron-Jawed Boy he’d felt out of place on Eldanar, but even now, sitting amongst nymphs, sprites, and giants, he was still the strangest one. And then he remembered the only person who hadn’t given his jaw the slightest attention.
“So...Vinya,” he said, “did she vote for the—”
“Nope.”
Phew!
“Esereez is a different story. He was in favor from the start of the war. But he had his reasons, I’m sure. Maybe he didn’t know how badly the draft would affect everyone.”
Ion tightened a fist under the table, and instead of calling Oceanus a fool like he wanted to, he chose to survey the hall.
The nymphs sat just beyond the Guardians table. There couldn’t have been less than fifty of them, each with a different hairstyle, hair color, and outfit. One girl had bright blue hair—an ocean nymph, no doubt—with white eyelashes and eyebrows, and a tunic made entirely of seashells. The giants, with their long hair, rosy noses, and lengthy beards (for both boys and girls) sat beyond the nymphs’ table, pulverizing sweets in their massive, elephant-like teeth.
A pale-green sprite zipped overhead and landed gracefully on the dwarves’ table, her wings fluttering before folding against her back. The dwarves shooed her away with their giant mugs filled with sweetened pumpkin juice, and she hovered down to the elves table at the back of the Mirrored Hall, where she was given not a bit of attention. The elves just whispered amongst one another, never drawing their eyes up from their plates, where they delicately cut their cookies and cakes with knives and forks.
