Obsidian Sky (7 page)

“Go ahead,” Aidan said with a wary eye.

“Take Bailey’s advice,” he said. “Get with the program for now. As much as you’re able. No matter what you believe, or how passionately you believe it, you have to remember that this world is bigger than you, and your actions will have inconceivable consequences for us, and generations to come. Pick your battles. I’m sure that even on the outside it’s the same. You might have to fight more often than you like out there, but there has to be a few fights that you can retreat from, or avoid altogether. I don’t want to change who you are, Aidan. I’m just looking at the whole picture. What Bailey and I…what all three of us are trying to do – it’s bigger than any one of us. So…do you think you can do that? Get on board?”

“I’ll try my best,” Aidan said, extending a hand towards him. “As long as you can accept that we’re not going off of what you’ve been taught in combat class anymore. From here on out, I’m coaching.”

“Agreed,” Isaac said, taking the hand and shaking it vigorously. “An easy trade.”

“If you don’t mind then, I’m going to head out now. Going to see you know who.”

“Right,” Isaac smiled. “But before you go, just tell me one thing. Those tactics back there. It didn’t feel like there was emotion behind it. There was planning involved, and I pegged you more as someone that just reacts. No offense. Did you create that maneuver yourself? The whole fan exploding into pieces thing?”

“No, I learned it from someone.”

“Who?”

“The man who murdered my little sister,” Aidan said with no expression on his face. “My sister and I traveled together for a while after Advent happened. I had been wounded and forced to watch her fight a man that had come to take her away from me. Said he wanted a young slave, and that it had to be a girl. Diana fought hard, and for a while it looked she might win but...she had used her Yen already, and he obviously had a lot of experience in facing those with Water Arts. I was about to use one of my seals to save her, but before I could, he performed the trick that you just witnessed, except it was one giant sword exploding into hundreds of smaller blades, not a fan into shards. She died instantly.”

“What happened to you?” Isaac asked, afraid of the answer.

“I became his slave,” Aidan said flatly, staring straight into Isaac’s eyes. Isaac wanted so desperately to look away. “Naturally, that didn’t last long.”

“Why do you use that technique?” Isaac asked in disbelief. “Especially considering the source?”

“Because like advice, a good technique is also a good technique,” Aidan smiled. “Out there, we don’t always have the luxury of morals.”

Aidan walked away abruptly and left Isaac in the field. Isaac watched his friend’s back and sighed heavily. He had wanted to go on an scouting mission so badly, but after hearing Aidan speak of the outside, suddenly, being inside Lowsunn’s shields didn’t sound so bad.

Chapter 4 – Higher Learning

No one was forced to attend every single survival class in Lowsunn, but it was strongly encouraged. Even the most boring of classes had valuable insight into the outside world that each and every graduate would one day have the pleasure – or horror – of experiencing first hand. The village was more like a train station than a town in that no one could permanently stay for sure, except for the Elders who had built the place. It was their vision after all, and when Advent had changed the world for better or worse, depending on whom you asked, they knew that the people of Obsidian would need guidance and safety, even if only for a short amount of time.

No one simply arrived at the village’s doorsteps and got in, of course. It wouldn’t still be standing if that were the case. Most got in through referrals from the Elders – back when the Elders were mentors and went on scouting missions, they had found new and promising candidates while in the outside world. Safety and comfort was a precious thing, so few fought against the wishes of their benefactors. But every so often, discontent arose. Though there was little action, no one could deny the fact that candidates with two or more wishes were preferred over those with one. That they were given preferential treatment and ensured that they would receive the best that Lowsunn had to offer. Such simple observation brought on suspicion, but silence would still grip the voices of the discontent. But not Bailey’s.

Bailey was not one to be silent.

“If you have any chance out there,” Bailey shouted aloud. “You need to study the information acquired from the scouting missions. Knowledge is the only thing that separates you from life and death. Once you know your enemy and more importantly, their abilities, then you can formulate counter measures. Take out your pencils, and don’t you dare tell me you left them at the cabins. I remembered to bring ten. Surely you managed one.”

The class shuffled around in their small fanny packs as Aidan leaned back in his creaking chair and watched Bailey pace behind her desk, her head down in concentration as she recited the lesson she was about to relay. Occasionally she would grab one of the several pencils on the surface of her desk and began chewing on the end.

They were back in the one-room schoolhouse, now with the desk/chair combos that Bailey was fond of. Although they were far more comfortable than the pews, or the stools that Mr. Young used, Aidan was surprised that Bailey had not been accommodated better. Perhaps she had requested no special treatment in order to blend in with the teaching staff better. Who knows. She was mysterious like that. Even when she spoke, you weren’t sure if it was really her talking, or just some part of a master plan she was in the middle of implementing. Aidan didn’t have enough evidence to outright call her a manipulator, but he couldn’t deny that the label had crossed his mind several times since their meeting.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” one student asked another in the back. The room was so empty and bare besides the students and their desks that even the whisper echoed, but Bailey gave no sign she had heard the innocent request. Aidan sighed and closed his eyes while he waited. He hadn’t brought a writing utensil, but he didn’t need it. Being in the wild had taught him that you had to remember everything yourself. You couldn’t refer to notes in the heat of battle. 

“Where’s your pencil?” Bailey finally asked the student in the back, as if the echo had done a loop around the room and finally reached her ears.

“I left it on my couch at home,” he said quickly. The waver in his voice was undeniable.

“If it was your weapon, would you have left it behind?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Then why a pencil?”

“Because it’s not important. It’s just a pencil.”

“So you’re telling me that you can remember everything I’m about to say?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not good enough. Stand up!” she barked. He shot up to attention and Aidan decided to peer backwards. It was George. A new student to the class that probably wouldn’t bother attending again after Bailey made an example out of him. There were few enough students there as it was.

“How many Yen do you have, George?”

“Um…two.”

“Two currently, or have you already used one?”

“I used one.”

“Then you have one Yen left, Couch. Your laziness reminds me of a couch. Do you mind if I call you Couch, George?”

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s because you’re a piss stain. You’re the residue of someone relieving themselves. Do you mind if I call you piss stain?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Couch, can you make your way over to the front? I have several writing utensils here on the desk.”

He was fuming as he obeyed the teacher’s command, muttering “excuse me” as he navigated around the other students. When he finally made his way to Bailey, she placed her hands on her hips and stared him down like he was a fly daring to invade her space. Surprisingly, George was not backing down from her glare. Aidan and the other regulars tough enough to survive Bailey’s hazing snickered in anticipation.

“You want me to shut up, don’t you, Couch?" she sneered. George balled up a fist.

“I do,” he said through grit teeth. A murmur went throughout the classroom.

“Then hit me…stain.” George leapt forward, aiming his left fist straight for Bailey’s face, but her reflexes were like a crack of a whip. She reached behind her, grabbed a pencil from the desk and slammed it as hard as she could through his balled up fist. The few students who were there winced in response and a scream of unbridled agony erupted from George. He shrieked in pain as he clutched his trembling hand, blood already seeping from the wound. Bailey didn’t soothe him or even send him to the infirmary. She just grabbed his collar and yanked him towards her until his face was right in hers.

“That pencil just cut your assault short, Couch. Suddenly, that little pole of lead doesn’t seem so innocent, does it? It almost feels like a weapon. Now that I’ve made myself clear, don’t even think about going to the infirmary until my lesson is over. If you leave before then, I don’t ever want to see you come back. You hear me?”

“I heard about you,” he said lowly just as she let him go. She scowled and leaned her ear in close.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I said that I heard about you,” George replied boldly, raising his head. “You intimidate your students because you still want to be in power. I heard you used to be an Elder and you lost the job. Probably because you’re a psychopath.”

The classroom went deathly silent.

“No,” she answered. “I intimidate them because they need to have a steel resolve. People take my class to prepare for the scouting missions that may come their way in the future. If they can’t take my heat, then they have no right to be walking outside these walls. A recommendation from me to the Elders grants special consideration. I’m sure this is the reason you’re here now, is it not?”

“Don’t try to run away from this,” George huffed, still clutching his wounded hand, his face reddening. “You want to make an example out of me? You want to act like I’m helpless just because we’re inside the shields? What if I was to show you what I could do right now?”

“You want to fight me, Piss Stain?” Bailey laughed as the rest of the room chuckled with her. George’s face became redder as he nearly began crying.

“When I walked in here, I was afraid of you,” he said through grit teeth. “But I’m not anymore. All I want to do is make you feel what you’ve done to me.”

“Good. That’s the point,” Bailey said. “You can’t let fear grip you.”

“Do you know what I can do?”

“Couch, please. Stop trying to make this dramatic. Go back to your seat.”

“I control the wind,” he said ominously as the entire classroom felt a breeze rustle past their feet. The wind kept circling the floor, over and over, brushing the dust and crumpled papers along the floor, until it had developed into a gust, and then transformed into a miniature tornado. The students kept their hands fastened to their creaking oak seats, though it wasn’t because they were concerned for their safety. They just wanted to keep watching the show. The only person in the room George wanted was their teacher, so they weren’t worried for themselves.

Bailey smiled as the winds were purposely directed at her. They picked her up off her feet until she was about a yard off the ground, and then the assault began.

George forced her limp body to circle around the room like she was a rag doll, banging up against the students’ desks and occasionally into the walls. Eventually, George grew weary of the smile planted on her face and decided to wipe it off. Circling his extended hands in front of him like he was casting a magic spell, he ordered the winds to bring her back toward the front and slam into the wall at his side. She winced upon impact but kept the smile up. He grunted and ordered her body to be slammed against the other end of the room, and she hit it even harder. This time her eyes closed, and the grin lost some of its hold. One more, George thought. One more will do.

He forced her back to the other wall, but she never reached it. Just as her body passed him and the teacher’s desk, he felt three sharp pricks hit the back of his head. The sudden sensation threw off his concentration and Bailey landed on her feet as the winds died abruptly. Wasting no time, she sprinted forward, yanked the pencil from his aching hand, and then stabbed it swiftly through the side of his neck. His eyes lit up in shock at the movement, and she followed through with a swift punch to his left cheek before he could react, sending his head into her desk, and knocking him out cold. She caught his head in the palm of her hand before it could fall to the floor.

Looking down at her handiwork, she snapped her fingers with her free hand and a healer ran forward. He rubbed his hands together and a light blue aura erupted over his palms. Bailey took the pencils carefully from George’s throat and the back of his head as the healer placed his palms over the wounds.

“Do you want me to heal his hand as well?” he asked.

“No, Elias, he still needs to feel that wound as a reminder.” Elias nodded and continued healing George’s neck. Once he was finished, Elias went back to his seat. Bailey nodded toward another student, who sent the equivalent of a bucket of water into George’s face from the palm of her hand. George shot up at attention, sputtering and trying to climb backwards onto his feet, but he kept on slipping. After a couple of seconds had passed, he winced and clutched his wounded hand again.

“You still got something to say to me?” Bailey asked, leaning in close to his face. George shook his head and she reached a hand out to him. He took it and she helped him climb to his feet. “Now go back to your seat, or get out of my classroom. It’s up to you.”

“You’re going to let me stay after I tried to kill you?”

“I am. You got a problem with that?”

“No…no,” George muttered as he staggered back to his seat. Bailey adjusted her shirt and then addressed the class.

“Someone tell me what just happened.” She pointed to a raised hand.

“You used George’s Wind Arts against him,” a middle-aged woman replied. “He was so focused on hurting you that he didn’t see you pick up pencils off our desks as you were thrown around the room. And as he began slamming you against the walls, you threw the pencils into the air at the right moment. The velocity turned the pencils into miniature daggers and he didn’t notice them flying toward the back of his head. Once he was injured, you used the moment to incapacitate him.”

“Very good, Samantha,” Bailey nodded. “Anything else, class?” She pointed to another raised hand.

“I have a question actually,” an elderly man replied. “Two to be honest. One, why did you let George pick you up in the first place? And two, why didn’t you act as soon as the pencils were in hand? It seems to me that you were taking some big risks.”

“That would have been a reckless move in the field,” Bailey nodded. “And I wouldn’t recommend it. Sorry for that. However, there are still lessons to be learned today. Part of winning against your opponent is knowing your enemy. Have you ever played a game with someone? Perhaps sparred with a friend? Participated in a competition against a rival? What happens? Eventually you become accustomed to your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. You know their habits and ticks, what they can’t do and when they perform best. Now, we may not have the benefits of trial and error on the outside, but we can take calculated guesses. For example, I have seen many with George’s power. This is why we have labels such as Fire Arts or Wind Arts. Because we understand that although someone can wish for whatever they like, their desires are closer to others than they would care to admit. This is simply a part of evaluating our enemies. Furthermore, in this case, I’ve also seen many with attitudes like George’s. Arrogant, but afraid of being cut down. They desire to hurt others, but they fear their very own dark fantasies someday coming upon them. This means that they aren’t as confident as they are pretending to be. It only takes a small surprise to throw off their focus. I used this to my advantage.

“He wanted to hurt me badly, but he was still unsure if he could actually go through with it, unsure of what my abilities were. I knew he would be cautious at first, using intimidation to feel me out. I let his game proceed on his terms. Once he began increasing the intensity, that’s when I focused on my goal of retrieving the pencils from your desks. But I knew I only had one shot to get it right, so I decided to let him go further. I let him slam me against the walls, and yes, it hurt. But I sucked it up. Once his bloodlust was in full swing, he was blind. The rest was a simple execution. Could I have taken him out from the beginning? Sure. But now we have all learned something from his foolishness. He now respects me more, and he’ll be more careful from now on, both inside the village and out.”