36

Marcus

I face off again with Mistress Zarah. I’m worried for the woman. Orange-robe or no, De’ral is dangerous and, even though she and I understand perfectly well we are sparring for practice, I can’t say the same for my phantom. “Mistress, I have little control, as you have seen. There might—”

“You think we can’t outwit your brute?” Zarah brushes dried mud from her sleeves. “Relax, Marcus. This is training. If you keep that in mind, your phantom will, too.”

“But that’s just it. My—”

Zarah raises her brow. “You contradict me?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Good. Let’s continue.”

She shows me a new sequence of moves in rapid succession—punch, block, kick, retreat, and then repeat, which I learn quickly, but when applied to De’ral, it’s not so smooth. I raise my hand to say I’m not ready, but Zarah calls, “Attack.”

Before I can gather my wits, Zarah flips me on my back and drops with an elbow strike to my chest. Her phantom runs circles around De’ral, keeping him contained, though there are some mighty fist blows as he pounds the ground, a giant swatting at a fly. No matter what the big warrior does, Zarah’s phantom has no problem evading him. When it becomes comical, Zarah calls a halt. My face is hot to the touch, my teeth ready to crack with how tightly I’m clenching my jaw.

“Let’s go over the basics again, shall we? Once they become routine for you, we’ll work on him.” She tilts her head toward De’ral.

And then her phantom runs up, executes a double somersault, and ends with a flying kick that stops just short of my face. “I’ve much to learn,” I admit.

Not me.

De’ral snatches up Zarah’s phantom by the nape of the neck, holding it out like a smelly sock.

“Stop! Put the instructor’s phantom down.” All eyes are on me, including Zarah’s.

“Tell it to let go,” she says, her voice vibrating through the air.

I push into De’ral’s perspective with every intention of following our instructor’s command, but the moment my eyes look down on the suspended thing that has taunted and teased, I realize De’ral isn’t the only one who wants to squash the little warrior like a bug. It takes every drop of my willpower to detach and say, “Put it down before you have us thrown out on the spot.”

De’ral lets go, from quite a height.

“Not like that,” I say aloud.

Zarah’s phantom falls but does a perfect roll and lands on its feet. It cuts back, pulls two spears from the weapons rack and charges, ready to launch toward De’ral’s head.

Zarah ignores it. “If you can’t gain better control than this, Baiseen, you’ll be going home without your yellow robes.”

I groan inside while De’ral catches up the spears and snaps them in half. “It’s yours that’s out of control now.” I point to it, knowing I’m being childish. “Do something!”

She crosses her arms. “You may speak to your instructors in Baiseen like that, but you will not get away with it here.”

My head pounds and I shout to hear myself over the throbbing. “In Baiseen, I am the Heir to the throne and command a measure of respect.” Spittle flies from my mouth. “It’s just common courtesy for my rank.”

“Your rank?” Her face turns hard. “On the Isle of Aku, rank is earned, not handed down a line of succession. I assure you, it will not be earned by arguing with me.”

My head explodes, and all reason flies away. Our phantoms brawl nearby, tearing up the grass, kicking and punching, pounding and snarling. De’ral swings and stomps, trying to mash Zarah’s phantom like a potato and hers is dodging blows and jabbing with two new spears. The students flow around them like a tide, keeping a safe distance while cheering and whooping. I shout to Zarah, “I can’t stop him!”

“Then bring him back in!”

“We didn’t start this!” The words are out before I can bite my tongue, and in the heat of the moment, I don’t care.

Zarah blasts me in her native tongue with what I can only guess is a string of obscenities. Ash would know. Some I recognize as curses my recorder has used, and though she’s never translated them, I can imagine they’re obscene.

When I catch a glimpse of the High Savant storming our way, her bloodred robes flaring around her, I close my mouth mid-sentence and freeze. Zarah’s back is turned to Yuki’s, and she carries on, shouting in her native Aturnian, our phantoms still brawling behind us. The students realize who approaches and go silent, bowing their heads. Zarah finally turns to see Yuki and drops to one knee, her phantom going to ground before she stands back up again.

She clears her throat. “High Savant.”

Yuki looks over the group and out into the training field. She takes in the rents and tears in the grass, the ruined obstacle course, and the mud-covered students. She motions me forward. “Your phantom did all this?” She bends over to pick up a snapped spear and examines the tip.

“Not entirely all of it, High Savant. Some was…” My voice trails off. She is staring at me in the strangest way. “Yes, Mistress Yuki. We went a little out of control.”

The High Savant surprises me with a thin smile. “Thank the Deep the black-robes never got their hands on you. I can only imagine what a warrior you will have by the end of your stay with us.”

I blink.

“Can you imagine it, Marcus Adicio?” Yuki asks before I sputter a response.

“Yes, High Savant.”

“Good then. That is where to begin.” She leans in toward Zarah. “Walk with me?”

Zarah nods and addresses all of us. “You will help the gardeners rake this field back into order.”

The groan from the students isn’t audible, but the mood around me thickens.

Yuki speaks up. “Order the carpenters to rebuild the obstacle course. I want it twice as high on the phantoms’ side and doubly reinforced.” She eyes the whole group. “Aku will accommodate every student on Amassia, including the likes of Gaveren the Great.”

Everyone gasps at her comparison, and I stand taller as she points at me. Likening De’ral to a phantom literally out of legends? I savor the compliment. By the bones, I’ve never heard such praise from Father or Master Brogal. Although most don’t think the stories of Gaveren are actually true. “But he will not be thumping up and down the boulevards and about our meditation paths just yet, will he?”

“No, High Savant,” I say and bow my head.

“For now, raise him only on the field for your daily classes or on the beach when your group does special training.” Her eyes go to Belair. “It’s good to see Tangeen in our midst. What a magnificent sun leopard.”

Belair beams. His phantom stretches, digging its claws into the grass, its long tail curling skyward.

High Savant Yuki claps her hands. “Hop to it, all of you. I want the field pristine by the noonday bell, before any of you eat.” She touches Zarah’s sleeve.

“You heard the High Savant!” Zarah shouts. “Rakes are in the toolroom by the stables, wheelbarrows and water carts in the wagon shed. Take your direction from the gardeners. And make sure you cleaned up before you go near the fountain or enter the dining hall.” Her eyes drift to me and Belair. “Your phantoms have seen enough of the sun for one day. Call them in.”

I don’t need to hear it twice. Well, I guess I do, since Zarah had asked before, but this time I lower to the ground and energy rushes in. With my phantom down, a wave of weariness replaces the heat and exhilaration, but I force myself to stay alert. I stand and we all bow to Zarah and Yuki before fanning out over the field. Some of the looks I get are not friendly, but a few are, including Destan’s. That’s something.

“Quite a start to our training.” Belair is at my side, patting me on the back.

“Not what I was expecting.”

“Do you think we’ll make it through the eliminations?”

Yuki hinted at it, didn’t she? “By the toss of the bones, the black-robes foresaw it.”

“What were their words, exactly?” He sounds worried.

I know the phrase by heart. I cling to it. “Out of Aku, the warriors triumph, and the southern realms are changed forever.”

“Promising.” Belair chews on it for a moment. “Unless, when they said warriors, they didn’t mean us.”

I laugh. “Who else would they mean?”

But my smile fades and suddenly, I’m not so sure.