Adrastos moved her mammoth to the second level of the Kings and Thrones board and captured Pim’s thief, pulling it off the board. She dropped the piece onto a stack of other Kings and Thrones pieces then sat back and cackled. “I’m coming for you, dork.”
Pimgin grabbed his dragon on the third level of the three-dimensional chess board and moved it to level two.
“You can’t do that,” said Adrastos smiling. “Dragons are bound to level three. You really need to remember the rules. It’s not that hard unless you’re stupid.”
“Ugh.” Pimgin moved his dragon back, leaned forward and studied the board further.
“I’m tired of waiting. Maybe we should set up a sand timer. Or maybe I should just take a nap between your moves.” Adrastos threw her head back and made a loud snoring sound.
Pim grabbed his dragon and threw it into Adrastos’ open mouth as she pretended to snore. She snapped into a fighting stance and smacked him atop the head. Pimgin swiped the chess board onto the floor and leapt across the table at Adrastos with his fist rocketed back for a full-on assault. Adrastos grabbed Pim’s forward arm with her left hand and shuffled back dragging him across the table and onto the floor, pounding on him with her right fist. Before he could block, she clopped him three times in the ear. It was smart. The ear strike hurts something terrible, but does little damage besides making the ear swell.
Ward fights always end worse when there’s blood involved. If anyone knew that lesson well, it was 14-year-old Adrastos Kerkis, an orea from Kerkis Mountain on the northern edges of Iasos. She was fast and deadly with both open hand combat and weapons. On her wrists Adrastos wore thin iron cuffs resembling shackles—a symbol of the oppression and slavery of her people. In Iasos, orea were free creatures, having revolted centuries before. Outside Iasos, many orea were still living in slavery or indentured servitude. After the first rebellion, free orea wore shackles until freedom came to all. She had a tight knit shirt woven with dozens of bright colored yarns in a horizontal pattern. It had a V-neck that laced in front and tiny sleeves that laid just below her shoulders. The back edge ended where her human back met her goat back, but the front of the shirt extended to a point beyond her torso.
Pimgin Xofire, on the other hand, was a 13-year-old human boy with scraggly brown hair and brown eyes. He was an innocent boy who looked two years younger than he really was. Pim still played with toys when nobody was looking. He wore chocolate brown breeches tucked into his slip-on boots—all a size too big for his small frame. An adult man’s tan, collared, long sleeved shirt hung to his knees. It had a V-neck that showed more of his bare chest than it should. Leather bands wrapped his skinny bicep to keep the extra sleeve length out of his way, making his biceps and shoulders look puffy. At his wrist he wore leather studded short bracers. His shirt was cinched at his waist with a dark brown belt and round brass buckle. A small skinning knife was tucked deep in a pocket stitched to the back of his belt leaving the pommel exposed. At his side he carried a cloth bag that crossed his chest.
Mr. Andvari grabbed Pim and Adrastos by their collars, tossing them apart onto the floor. Adrastos popped up and rammed toward Pim with her head down in a rage. Pim screamed and crouched, but was saved by three inches when Mr. Andvari redirected Adrastos’ head toward the floor with one hand.
The room was rectangular, with columns in the corners and along the walls, the same Corinthian columns seen elsewhere in Panae Hall. Along the exterior wall was a row of columns inset in the walls with doors between them. Each door had heavy purple and gold curtains drawn back and tied with golden, tasseled cord. Outside the doors was an open air patio with views that looked south to Yammu Lake. Far below, the exterior steps to Panae Hall wound along the rock face below. On the eastern side of the room was a handmade wood and iron tree with branches twisting and turning in all directions.
Perched on top was Rarr—a small, 8-year-old boy with wild blonde hair standing up in every direction. He had no clothes except for a loincloth and his feet were dirty, hard and bare. Rarr was howling and flailing his arms, bouncing and spinning like a screech monkey ready to throw it’s filth at the next person that crossed its path. “Guuuagh. Guuuagh. Guuuagh,” the boy yelped.
On the west side of the room was a fireplace, iron stove, and work counter. A hooded figure leaned against the empty fireplace in silence, looking at her gloved hands. Her cloak was dark green and covered most of her body except for her tall leather boots.
“Stop!” barked Mr. Andvari in his deep growl. “Both of you,” he said sharply but calmly.” He snatched Adrastos and Pim by their collars, again, and held them apart. “I’ll beat you both in the face with a dead rabbit, if you keep it up,” he said as he winked.
Erlend Andvari was a rough-skinned middle aged dwarf with a purple Mohawk and red eyes speckled with gold—a curiously rare eye color. Mr. Andvari was tall as dwarves go, nearly five feet, and was covered in brightly colored tattoos depicting ancient Aether mythology from his shoulders to below his waistline and down both arms. His back had a dwarf warrior mounted on a dragon battling a demon, decorated with swirls of wind, leaves and flowers. His left arm had a beautiful phoenix wreathed in flame, grasping herbs in its talons. The right arm was serene with a girl playing a lute under a flowering cherry blossom tree near a brook with gold and black spotted fish. He wore large lapis lazuli stud earrings; rings on his thick fingers; and a purple, green, and blue plaid kilt with a wide, black and brown leather belt with the inscription ιξός—the Aether word for mistletoe—tooled into a leather pocket on the back of his kilt belt. A nine-inch guardless knife with a burled wooden handle slept horizontally in the belt pouch easily accessible to the right hand. He wore a sleeveless honey-colored linen shirt tucked into the kilt and leather boots with bone buttons on the side that rose just below his muscular calf. The left boot was slightly wider at the top than the right to make room for a small boot knife sewn inside.
Maveith stood in the doorway stunned at the scene. Adrastos and Pim stopped fighting and turned toward him while the tiny barbarian screeched in the background, “Guuuagh.” “Guuuagh.” “Guuuagh.”
Mr. Andvari tossed both kids to the ground away from one another and walked up to Maveith extending his hand. Maveith statued. Mr. Andvari pulled his hand back and smiled.
“Hello. I am Erlend Andvari.” He looked down at the boy’s arm and saw his bloody wound. “I am what serves as a mentor in Panae Hall. Welcome.” Mr. Andvari turned halfway toward Pimgin. “Pim, bring me…” Pim was already standing at the counter by the fireplace filling a bowl with water and gathering rags. “Come on,” said Mr. Andvari. “Let’s get your arm cleaned up.” Mr. Andvari touched Maveith’s shoulder and the behemoth shuddered. Mr. Andvari turned and walked to the heavy table in the middle of the room and Maveith followed, sitting in a chair on the far side of the table facing the door.
“May I?” Mr. Andvari asked as he sat next to Maveith and held his hand out. Maveith relented, extending his arm. Pim brought over the water and rags and a small bottle of tea tree oil. “What’s your name, young man?” asked Mr. Andvari. Maveith sat silently and studied the room.
Pim leaned over to Mr. Andvari and whispered, “His name is Maveith Oglakanu. He’s been in trouble for a long time for refusing to do anything: train, fight, study, learn … talk.” Mr. Andvari nodded. Maveith scowled at Pimgin.
“Looks like he’s one of us now,” Adrastos shouted—she shouted or yelled or hollered nearly everything—then pushed aside a chair across from Maveith and watched.
“Pim says your name is Maveith.” Mr. Andvari said without diverting his gaze from his bandaging job. The new boy shot Pim a skeptical and annoyed look and nodded lightly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Pim knows everything that goes on around here. I am supposed to be in charge and I don’t know what Pim knows.” Mr. Andvari finished with the bandages and looked up. “It’s handy but annoying. You’ll get used to it.” Pim smiled.
Rarr jumped down from his perch and stalked up behind Maveith, cocking his head from side to side and staring at Maveith until he crawled up into a chair next to Maveith and squatted on the seat, sniffing and staring.
“This is Rarr.” Mr. Andvari patted Rarr on the back as he walked away from the table. “He’s our little wild child, aren’t you Rarr?” The boy let out a grunt. “Rarr, doesn’t say much. Kinda like you, I guess, huh?” Mr. Andvari looked back at Maveith and smiled. Pim left the room.
“I am Adrastos.” The proud orea stood at the table with her hand on the pommel of the short sword on her left side. “I am on the fighter track here. How about you, slick?”
“I’m nothing.” Maveith looked at his arm and pulled at the bandage.
“What did you do to land in Leftover Hall?” she asked.
“Panae Hall,” corrected Mr. Andvari.
Adrastos rolled her eyes. “Panae Hall. Whatever,” she muttered under her breath. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” said Maveith again. He raised his head and sized up Adrastos, which did not go unnoticed by her or Mr. Andvari.
Pim walked back into the room carrying a tray with a loaf of psomi bread, a block of cheese, and a carafe of room temperature tea then sat on the floor. He pulled out his knife and cut the bread and cheese. Mr. Andvari joined him on the floor and called them all over. Rarr raced over, grabbed a hunk of bread and cheese, crouched next to Mr. Andvari and scarfed his food down. Maveith and the cloaked girl joined the group, too. Pim handed them each bread and cheese. When Adrastos sat down in the circle the food was gone.
“Where’s mine, Pim?” she snarled.
“I guess I forgot. Sorry.” He took a bite of his bread and smirked.
“I hate you. You stupid little malaka.” She rushed toward him, ready to backhand him in the face. Mr. Andvari lurched forward and nudged her with his hand, redirecting her body outside the circle.
“Sit down, Adrastos.” He glanced at Pim. “I’ve had enough of the two of you for today.” He moved back into his spot and sat on his knees with the top of his feet against the floor. “Maveith, this is called, ‘group’ and it’s something we do at least once a week. Sometimes more …” He glared at Adrastos and Pim. “… if we need it.” Adrastos sat with her goat legs folded beneath her. The rest were on their knees. Maveith sat with his legs crossed.
Pim chimed in. “You can’t sit like that, Mave …” Mr. Andvari tapped Pim with his hand and shook his head slightly.
“In Panae Hall, we share everything,” said Mr. Andvari. “Our struggles, our anger, our fears and our successes. It’s hard at first, but it will become easier for you as your practice and learn to trust us. Today, we’re going to start with Adrastos and Pimgin. Adrastos?”
“He can’t stand it when I win. It makes him mad.”
“You rush me and make fun and …” exclaimed Pim.
“Everyone gets to talk, Pim. Can you hold on to your thoughts until Adrastos finishes?”
“Fine.”
“He always wants to be around me and do everything I’m doing. It gets tiring. It’s worse when he gets mad because I’m so good.” Adrastos looked at Pimgin. “I can’t help it if I’m better at things than you, Pim. Just stop being such a baby.”
Pim wrenched his neck, grunted, folded his arms, hung his head and muttered. “I’m not a baby.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying!” he shouted holding back tears.
“You know, Adrastos,” said Mr. Andvari coolly. “If you and I went outside and had a little martial training, how long would it be before I had you in tears? Huh?”
“Yeah!” Pim raised his head and snarled at Adrastos. Tears poured down his red face.
“I am older and stronger than you,” Mr. Andvari explained. “I have more expertise. It’s not right for me to use my power against you. We are friends. We are all each other has.”
Adrastos stared at the wall. Pim continued to glare.
“Pim, how do you feel?”
“I just like hanging out with her.”
“Don’t tell me. Tell her,” corrected Mr. Andvari.
“I just like hanging out with you. You are fun when you aren’t mean to me.” Adrastos continued to stare at the wall. “You aren’t even listening!”
“Yes, she is,” Mr. Andavari explained. “She’s thinking. It doesn’t look like it, but she is. Aren’t you, Adrastos?”
Adrastos nodded.
“Truth is, Adrastos, you are just as embarrassed at the way you acted as Pim is embarrassed at crying, aren’t you?” She nodded again. “You two have been with me the longest. You are the most like family—brother and sister really. You cannot continue to hurt one another. You are the oldest, Adrastos. Act like it. And we do not seek revenge, Pim. Even if it’s just food. Now, can you two apologize?” In unison, they sighed. “You don’t have to hug.” They grasped forearms them flopped back down in a huff.
“Okay, who’s next?” Mr. Andvari eyeballed them one by one, then stopped at the girl in the cloak and hood. “Penelopas? How about you?”
“What about me?” Her hood was still up, shading her face.
“How do you feel about your hood today?”
Penelopas tilted her head ever so slightly in Maveith’s direction. “I like my hood up,” she said. Mr. Andvari nodded.
“Penelopas always has her hood up,” said Adrastos. “We think she bathes with that hood on.” Adrastos looked at Penelopas, seeing if her remarks got a rise out of her. Penelopas sat cold and still as always.
“I’m Pimgin Xofire. I’m the second youngest one here, but I’ve been here the longest.” He smiled proudly wiping the remnants of his tears.”
“That’s really nothing to be proud of, Pim,” snarked Adrastos. “Unless you landed here for a good reason. Like me.” She turned to Maveith. “I’m here because I’m better than all the other recruits at fighting. The boys don’t like that and neither do their parents or the presbyters.”
“They kicked you out of the abbey because you are a skýla and no one can stand you,” laughed Pim.
“Pim. Language,” corrected Mr. Andvari coolly.
“That’s true too … and … they can’t fight me.” Adrastos laid her hand on the pommel of her chest knife. “I got into it with a group of those little ilíthios, but I took them out.” Adrastos took her knife out with her left hand and twirled it in her fingers.
“And what did that gain you, Adrastos?” asked Mr. Andvari, prompting another character lesson.
“They won’t mess with me again.”
“Or teach you. Or be your friend. Or help you in a fight. Or help you graduate,” Mr. Andvari offered.
“I don’t need friends and I don’t need help in a fight. What do I care about graduation?” she snapped.
“Really? Is that how you feel or are you being …” Mr. Andvari looked at Maveith then back at Adrastos. “… tough in front of our new friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Maveith muttered under his breath. Pim’s eyes widened and he looked down awkwardly. Mr. Andvari glanced at Maveith but ignored the comment. The circle sat quiet for a few minutes, the wards looking at the floor, or staring off in the corner, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
“How many of us came to the Iasos Unified Preparatory Abbey alone, with no friends and estranged from our families?” asked Mr. Andvari, raising his hand in the air. “Hmm? Come on now.” Still avoiding eye contact, Pim, Adrastos, and Penelopas, raised their hands. Rarr laid on his belly on the floor picking at a chip in the floor tile and growling at himself in repetitive rhythms. Maveith sat like an ancient monk protester, still and silent.
“We’re all he’s got,” Mr. Andvari pointed at Rarr. “Without us …” Mr. Andvari paused, looking at the raw human boy sprawling on the floor. Rarr’s bare feet were rough and heavy with callouses, his elbows and knees, arms and legs covered in scrapes and bruises of a boy who lived his life in the wild. “Without each other, you will fail and your life will be forfeit. Panae Hall is your last chance for success. Not just success at the abbey, but success in life here in Iasos.” Mr. Andvari’s voice was deep. His normally calm eyes were tight and serious.
In the country of Iasos, survival depended upon alliances. Once divided by tribes and small communities, Iasos was burdened with incursions from warring tribes from exotic lands. Three hundred years after The War of the Beast the people of D’wyee, which had the largest township with a functioning government, went throughout Iasos spreading messages of alliances, treaties, and survival. The early settlers succeeded in the unification and D’wyee became the capital of Iasos and a training ground for the new government and its militia.
Once a year, families in the various settlements, tribes and communities of Iasos pack their older children and journey to D’wyee. There, they submit their ten-year-olds to the Iasos Unified Preparatory Abbey in hopes of being accepted into the academy. The prospective recruits must prove their worth as teachable in some capacity. If accepted, which most are, the children live at the the abbey to be trained and educated. There, the recruit endures a battery of harsh training and exams to determine his or her abilities, skills, and strengths during the early adolescent years. At the end of the fifth year, the recruits are given evaluations and assigned a final track where each teen specializes in the area he or she will work until death.
Of the five tracks offered—officer, soldier, scholar, artisan, and merchant—each recruit must match his skills in order to sufficiently graduate from the abbey. Those that do not graduate are discharged with dishonor as uneducable and sent to work as a slave in one of the various salt, coal, or ore mines or to work the fields of merchant-farmers. Slaves who run away meet harsh penalties including execution in order to keep defectors from going to enemy lands and assisting in attacks against Iasos.
“You are all here because that place wasn’t the right fit for you.” Mr. Andvari pointed in the direction of the abbey. “If you do not have each other, you have nothing but misery and death,” said Mr. Andvari. “Together, we are Panae Hall. But it only works if we are together and you try.”
“Leftover Hall, you mean,” snapped Adrastos. Pim snickered.
Rarr, still lying on the floor, changed his grunts into words. “Left-over. Left-o-ver. Left-o-ver.”
“Loser is more like it.” Penelopas’s cooper eyes sparkled under her cloak.
“Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser. Loser,” chanted Rarr.
“Enough!” Mr. Andvari’s tone was sharp. “Let’s get our new guest settled in.” Mr. Andvari motioned for Maveith to follow him. They walked out of the Great Room and headed up the ramped hallway curving up and around the monolith’s interior circumference. Braziers continued to light the hall every ten feet. Rooms were on the right and left with arched doorways, most without columns. Some had doors while others were closed only by heavy, dark violet curtains that smelled of dust and old books. “If you are in Panae Hall, Maveith, then you don’t fit in over there. That’s okay. No one here fits in over there. You—we—are meant to travel a different path. We will find it together.”
They passed a room on the left. It had no door or curtain, just a fireplace, stove, and large, heavy preparation table. Cabinets lined the wall. Across from it, another archway, but this one was lined with crimson curtains, edged in gold fringe and tied back against the columns with gold cord. Inside a long table sat in the middle of the room. The ceiling was twenty feet high and had large wooden beams. Like the great room, the exterior wall had columns that opened to an outside balcony. Light filled the entire room and it smelled of warm jasmine tea and honeysuckle.
“This is the dining hall. We eat together every day. All of us,” said Mr. Andvari. Maveith looked at him and cocked his head slightly. “Have you eaten dinner today, Maveith?” The boy nodded too slightly and Mr. Andvari noticed it. He’s lying. He doesn’t trust us enough to eat with us; he doesn’t trust anyone. That boy’s been broken, Mr. Andvari thought.
“Pimg …!” exclaimed Mr. Andvari, unable to finish before Pim nudged his hand between Mr. Andvari and Maveith.
“I thought you might want a snack,” Pim’s voice lowered. “The first night here sucks.” Pim smiled then handed Maveith a spice cake and a triangle of soft, mold-ripened goat’s milk cheese with a vein of ash running through the middle. “Don’t tell anyone I gave you this cheese; it’s expensive.
“No thanks,” Maveith muttered.
“It’s only for special occasions because it’s really good and hard to get, but I figure anytime someone comes to Leftover Hall it’s special.”
“Panae Hall,” whispered Mr. Andvari to himself.
“Not hungry,” Maveith said. Pim glanced at Mr. Andvari and the dwarf nodded.
Maveith pushed past Pim holding the plate of food as he and Mr. Andvari continued walking the hall on an upward incline. Dorm rooms lined the exterior wall as they traveled circular and upward. The left side of the hall had a series of heavy wooden doors, closed and bolted. Mr. Andvari stopped, opened a door, and moved through the threshold. The exterior wall had a small arched doorway between two Corinthian columns with heavy honey-colored curtains. Mr. Andvari pulled the curtains and tied them back against the columns with a tea-colored cord. Light glimmered off the dust swirling in the air the two kicked up as they walked in. On the left stood an armoire made of fragrant thuya burl wood filling the room with a sense of calm and home. Mr. Andvari walked over and thumped the armoire.
“Huh. I forgot that was in here. I love the smell of thuya burl. You can put your clothes in there.” He then pointed to the woven rug on the opposite wall. “You can sleep on that until we get you a proper bed.” Mr. Andvari looked around and opened the armoire. “You need blankets. I’ll go get you some.”
Pim immediately walked in carrying two blankets, a goose-down pillow and a short staff. He dropped the bedding on the floor, picked up the woven mat, went to the balcony, draped the rug over the banister, and beat it with the staff. Ancient dust clouded the room and filled their nasal passages. Mr. Andvari and Maveith coughed and walked out of the room.
“Oh! Sorry about that,” said Pim. He took three more shots at the rug, flipped it around and struck it again before placing it gently back on the floor. “There. That’s better.” Pim grabbed his staff and left.
“He knows what you want before you say it?” questioned Maveith.
“Unnerving isn’t it?” Mr. Andvari snorted. “It’s a gift he has. Pretty remarkable, really. I’ve never met anyone else in the world like him, and I’ve met a lot of people.” Mr. Andvari clapped Maveith on the shoulder. “Your clothes and things should be here early tomorrow morning. Then you can get more settled in. At least you have a clean rug.” Mr. Andvari swatted at the dust in the air. “The air, on the other hand, is little rough. Leave the door open and it will clear out.”
Maveith nodded.
“Do you need anything? Are you okay to sleep by yourself?” asked Mr. Andvari.
“I’m used to being alone.”
“Yeah, I bet. That’s everyone’s story when they first come here.” Mr. Andvari winked and turned toward the door. “We’re taking a trip tomorrow. Be ready.” He left the room and turned down the hallway. Maveith sat on his rug. The cool night air swooshed around clearing out the dust and swirling the sweet smell of thuya burl around the room. Maveith pulled out his boot knife and, scraped the flat of the blade up and down his forearm.