51

Marcus

This is it. We’ve made it. At least, I hope we have. There’s nothing more to study. No new exercise to learn. No more laps or drills to perfect. Not after today. We’ll be awarded our yellow robes at the ceremony tonight, if we earned them, or not. I’ll know soon enough. Zarah said she’d announce it at the end of this final morning class.

I think I might be sick.

The newly laid grass crunches underfoot as I stand at attention between Destan and Belair. In moments, I’ll be hot and sweating, but for now, gooseflesh rises on my arms. I glance at Belair and he gives me a smart nod. We’re ready, and this time, I know it’s true.

Destan salutes us both. “May the best savant win.”

He means the High Initiate award, yet another part of training we hadn’t known about, but one I’d move mountains to win, if only to see Petén’s face when I tell him. I don’t know if Belair and I are even in the running, though, but I’m sure Destan is. We tap our fists to our chests and repeat his words. “May the best savant win.”

The rim of the training field is packed with cheering support. Everyone on the island must be watching. The recorders sit farther into the field from the sidelines. Ash smiles and waves. She’s bundled in a knee-length sheepskin coat, knit cap, and high, fur-lined boots, ready with her writing board in her lap.

“Today we will give her something worthy of the records,” I say to De’ral.

“Raise your phantoms!” Zarah’s breath turns to fog as her voice carries over our heads.

I lunge forward and drop to my knees, touching the hard ground for less than a breath before I’m up again, running. In front of me, De’ral erupts from the earth, dirt and turf flying, but not in my face. Not anymore. It all happens too fast for that now.

“Perimeter,” Zarah shouts. “Four laps.”

I take the lead, knowing the execution is flawless. That Zarah doesn’t find fault is the highest praise. She’s like Father that way. The closest the Magistrate ever comes to a compliment is a momentary absence of criticism, which used to get under my skin. Today, it doesn’t bother me at all. I can feel my worth.

I set a strong pace, De’ral pounding along by my side. At the first lap, my breath blasts out in white puffs, the biting cold in my limbs replaced with hot, rushing blood. I catch the grin on Ash’s face and shoot her a quick wink. De’ral turns to Ash as well and pumps his fist.

“Please stay focused.”

He turns back to me and keeps running.

“Line up!” Zarah makes a note as I finish the final lap in first place.

Destan runs in on my heels, his phantom like a black shadow with a carnivorous face, its tongue rolling out. Following him is Belair and the red sun leopard everyone has grown to admire. I suspect Belair can outrun us both, but the most he’s ever done with me is tie. The redheaded Tangeen, who annoyed me to the bone when first taking Larseen’s place, has become a friend and ally. No doubt what the Magistrate had in mind all along with the substitution. It looks like we’ll both have a powerful position in our realms someday. Unless the next Great Dying comes beforehand.

I frown. It’s no disrespect to Ash, but a second sun bringing mass devastation? Next thing she’ll tell me Mar are real.

“Face your partners for battle moves.” Zarah waves us into lines.

In three rows of three, we go through a series of punches, lunges, and kicks. Our group performs as one, in sync, phantoms mirroring savants in the way most appropriate for their form. De’ral punches and lunges in unison with me, as does Destan’s phantom. Belair’s leopard jumps and snarls and swipes the air, not randomly anymore but in full focus and control. We all march forward then turn around and repeat the moves back to the start. Ash watches me intently, and my chest expands.

“Marcus, Destan, Belair, and Cyres.” Zarah calls the names of each contestant, and I want to shout my victory. I’m in the first group! “Choose your swords, spears, and shields.” She points at the weapons rack. “Take the north end of the field and prepare to spar. The rest of you, to the obstacle course.”

The four of us jog to the far side of the field, phantoms by our sides. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ash pick up her things, along with one other recorder, a young man who’s here with Cyres, and follow along. Again, I wonder why Destan doesn’t have a recorder following him; is it a matter of coin as Ash suggested? It must be nice not to have every single mistake put down in a book, but the records hold our triumphs, too, and I’m finally feeling like my good days now outweigh the bad ones at the start.

Our group squares off, ready to go through basic battle tactics while we wait for Zarah to referee the matches. Destan steps up and shouts out the commands and we alternately attack and defend in the prescribed moves. It doesn’t take Zarah long to appear, and she actually smiles at us. “Well done.” She moves to the center of our group. “Now let’s see what you’ve really got.”

I stand tall, shoulders back, chin up, warmth rushing through me. “Be ready, De’ral.”

“You’ll have one minute to disable your opponent by putting their phantom to ground.”

It’s all I can do to keep from thrusting my fist in the air. Full contact! This is it, but suddenly the air goes out of my lungs as the images of smashed scouts rise up from their graves. Will I be able to keep control or will this end in another massacre?

“First up, Belair and Cyres.”

“You better be listening, De’ral.”

Ash and the other recorder settle at a distance as Zarah drops her arm, signaling them to begin. The orange-robe upends the sandglass and steps back.

Belair sends his phantom straight in. It circles the agahpa, stalking, while Belair clangs his spear on his shield to harry Cyres. She darts and dashes about, keeping Belair preoccupied. Neither phantom lands a blow.

“Thirty seconds,” shouts Zarah. “You can do better than this!”

The crowd presses closer, cheering them both on. There can be multiple winners in these final competitions, but only one High Initiate.

A second later, the sun leopard jumps onto the agahpa and sinks fangs into its back. The treelike phantom responds by reaching over its head and throttling the big cat. It tightens its branchy fingers until the sun leopard lets go and is lifted high into the air. Belair sends his spear sailing over Cyres’s head. Out of reflex, she ducks, giving Belair time to run in and grab her arm. He flips her over his back and slams her into the ground. At the same time, Belair’s phantom twists around, latches onto the agahpa’s throat, and shakes it till it cracks. The agahpa goes to ground, leaving the sun leopard rolling woodchips off its tongue.

“Time!” Zarah calls and Belair releases Cyres.

Hollers roar up from all around, including the students at the obstacle course who have turned to watch. Ash stands, banging her hands together before writing in the records, a huge smile on her face.

“Good show.” I slap Belair on the back as he leaves the circle.

“Baiseen, you’re up with Destan,” Zarah calls from the sideline.

When I step into the fight circle, my heart beats double-time. Destan gives me a respectful nod, but I catch a look behind his eyes and something in me runs cold. Or is that De’ral’s reaction?

We fight! my phantom says.

The pale winter sun flares as it reflects off Destan’s twin blades. He holds one in each hand as is the way of the Northern Aturnian warriors. He doesn’t seem to be trying to hide his origins today, which is worrisome. I glance to Ash, to see if she notices, but her eyes are on De’ral.

When in position, Zarah shouts, “Fight!” and my head snaps back to my opponent.

Destan charges straight at me while his phantom flips in the air and takes one of the blades for himself. I raise my shield and spear but Destan darts out of the way, harassing again and again with his double-edged blade. It’s all I can do to evade the strikes, which are dangerously close. But inside I hold onto a secret smile. Destan is flamboyant, making a fatal mistake. He hasn’t taken our improvements seriously—particularly that of my control.

De’ral towers over Destan’s phantom, but still the other warrior runs fearlessly toward us. Without breaking stride, it leaps, trying to sink its blade straight into De’ral’s neck. Far from clumsy, De’ral blocks with his left hand, spins the other phantom up in the air, and sends it flying with a front kick. It sails over the field and lands smack in the middle of the obstacle course, knocking a student off the balance beam. My chest expands as I take a deep breath, and a wave of cheers wash over the field. Our win!

“He’s up,” Belair shouts just as I’m about to claim the victory. How could it not have gone to ground?

“Ten seconds,” Zarah calls.

Destan’s phantom runs back to the circle and fakes left, then leaps right, the movements so fleeting he ends up impaling De’ral in the forehead. It’s a direct blow and puts my phantom to ground instantly. I square my shoulders and give a quick bow to Destan, who isn’t looking, and then to Zarah, who is.

“Well done, all of you,” she says, and announces the winners. “Destan of Southern Aturnia and Belair of Tangeen. We honor your achievement today.”

Belair and Cyres bow to each other, but when I turn to Destan, he bows imperceptibly and with a smirk on his face.

I keep my expression bland and return the recognition, while inside my heartbeat steadies. “Now.” Zarah claps her hands, bringing me out of the daze. “You four will officiate the other matches.”

The command rings in my head. Us four? Did I hear her right? I look to Ash, who pumps her fist in the air. Those asked to officiate are in the running for High Initiate, surely. As I think it, Yuki appears. She’s making the rounds, checking in with each group on the field. She and Zarah confer over a manuscript. A list of names? Quickly they nod agreement and Yuki moves on, across the field to the next class.

“Carry on,” Zarah says.

I take charge before anyone else can, call the sparring partners, and referee disputes. Soon each of us four are beaming as we run our classmates through the trials. At the end, the entire class lines up in front of her. This is it. The moment of reckoning.

“Every one of you has worked hard,” Zarah says. “Though some harder than others.” Her eyes go to a few students in the back then rest on me and Belair.

My throat constricts. It’s a good thing, right?

“We acknowledge you, and your efforts, whether you leave Aku with your yellow robes or not.”

No one breathes.

Zarah scans the manuscript in front of her and clears her throat. “Trin, green-robe of Gollnar, it is not yet your time. You may return next year and try again.”

We all clap for her and salute fists to chests. She’s young and, as I recall, showed strong potential, just weak on focus.

“Ren, green-robe of Nonnova.”

The young man steps forward.

“This was your third try. It’s time for you to discuss with your High Savant a new role at the Sanctuary of Nonnova.”

We all know what that means. We clap and salute him as well, though his expression looks more like relief than disappointment.

“Belair of Tangeen…” She pauses and my guts knot. “Yellow-robe warrior.”

We all whoop and cheer until she calls the next name. “Cyres of Sierrak, yellow-robe warrior.”

Thunderous applause.

“Destan of Aturnia, yellow-robe warrior.”

Could anyone have doubted it?

She goes through the entire class, leaving me to dead last. By now sweat runs down my temples and I can hardly breathe.

“Marcus Adicio of Baiseen…”

My heart stops and won’t beat again until I hear her next words.

“Yellow-robe warrior.”

We all explode, students, recorders, the crowd. It’s a while before Zarah can be heard again.

It’s also a while before I can clear my eyes of the tears.

“Your robes will be awarded tonight in the great hall. Congratulations. You’ve all earned it.”

We cheer again until Zarah waves us down. “Break for lunch, the lot of you. Then back here at eighth bell for the final trial for High Initiate.” She pauses to smile down on us. “If you aren’t familiar with rigg-tackle-stuggs, learn the rules.”

My brows slam down as Ash gasps. Rigg-tackle-stuggs? Is she kidding?

High Initiate will be decided by a bones-be-cracked ball game?