Of Heroes And Villains (Book 4) (7 page)

So
, Bastion thought.
She can transform, but only for a very short amount of time. Did she sacrifice strengthening her state just to gain the speed?
It was true what Kent had said. There had been no flashes or pillars of light encompassing her like he had read about. It was an interesting concept to consider.

“Let’s take a break, guys,” Fern shouted, his voice pounding the air with his deep voice. “We can start over in a few minutes.”

“Good,” Kent groaned, sitting up. The two holes in his chest were now healed. “I can redeem myself.”

“Sure you can,” Daisy said, giving him a hand to his feet. Fern helped the two Allayan boys to their feet slowly, one by one. Neither one was in a condition to continue in only a few measly minutes, but they still smiled weakly, trying to save face in front of the others. The Langoran that Daisy had taken out earlier had apparently been awake for a little while. He stayed on his belly, brushing his hand against the grass blades. Just thinking.

“You okay, Zif?” Kent asked the Langoran. The Langoran turned his head to look at Kent and smiled.

“Yep,” Zif replied. “Just gaining my strength for the next round. I’ll probably last longer than you this time.”

“Don’t count on it!” Kent laughed heartily. Bastion’s eyes widened in horror when he noticed that his own gaze had suddenly met Kent’s. Without hesitation, Kent began walking toward him—a playful expression on his face. Bastion thought about running, but he didn’t want to ruin his reputation before it even began. All of them, even Fern and Kent, were certainly contenders to be students at the Sage Academy. Due to the protests of the Langoran Order, a few of the rules were changed to accommodate the non-Allayans that wanted to join the school. If a Langoran was capable of excessive growth or increasing their strength to a certain degree, then it was seen as the equivalent of releasing one’s eidolon.

“Hey, you want to join us?” Kent asked, towering over him. “I’m Kent.” Bastion blinked a few times and then looked over at the others. He turned back to the Langoran before him.

“The teams are uneven,” he decided to say. “It would be unfair.”

“Not really,” Kent laughed. “The Sages could use some help.”

“Hey!” Daisy shouted. “I heard that!”

“I don’t understand the game,” Bastion replied. “I mean, I know that you choose someone from the battles of the past, but none of you did any of their moves except Fern. Were you supposed to?”

“You don’t have to do any special abilites. Choosing a character just makes it more fun when play fighting.”

“It didn’t look like play fighting.”

“Well, there were no true killing blows,” Kent replied casually. “We can wound someone to a certain degree since we can all heal ourselves. Just nothing serious. No aiming for the head or the neck if you’re going to use blades. Don’t overstress your opponent’s organs. For example, I had to be careful about not hitting Daisy in the chest much. Because I have great strength, I don’t want to hit where her heart would be too many times. I might accidentally kill her.”

“We know you’re really just trying to feel her up!” Fern yelled. Kent shook his head.

“Come on. Join us. You can be on our team then.”

“A Langoran?”

“You don’t have to be a Langoran to play one.”

“But I don’t know any moves of a Langoran.”

“Doesn’t matter. But if you don’t feel comfortable, you can join the Sages then. Can you release your eidolon?”

Bastion wasn’t sure how to answer the question, even though there should have been no reason to hide. They would all know the answer in only a couple days anyways. Would it be better to reveal his abilities then, when he might gain a reputation as a powerful warrior? Or was it better now, to gain early respect, and maybe even a friend or two?

“Well?” Kent asked, not impatiently.

“I’ll go to the Langoran’s side,” he said finally. Kent nodded, as if the statement had revealed all he needed to know. Bastion climbed to his feet, realizing too late that his tome was now exposed. It had been behind him, but now it captured the attention of Kent. Kent eyed the book, and then he gave Bastion an inquisitive look. Still, he made no motion to call the others’ attention to it, nor did he pry more into Bastion. He left it alone, and they both walked toward the group. From where the rest of them stood, no one would think the book was anything out of the ordinary.

“This is…um, what’s your name?” Kent asked, turning to him.

“Bastion,” he replied, noticing that Kent, and the other two Langorans were a couple feet taller than him. Even Daisy and the Allayans towered over him by a few inches. The group gave out their names as if they were answering an attendance roll call: Daisy, Fern, Zif, the bald twin-looking boys, Michael and Mason. No one seemed interested in the short boy that had just graced their presence.

“So what team is he going to be on?” Michael asked, with a bored expression on his face.

“The Langorans,” Kent declared proudly, patting Bastion on the back. Daisy raised her eyebrows.

“He doesn’t look like a Langoran to me,” she said.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Kent winked, as they all lined up again in their respective teams.

“How many rounds are we doing today?” Zif sighed.

“Hey,” Fern snapped at him. “You’re the one that said you needed the training. We’re out here for you.”

“It’s just that she could have really hurt me,” he whined, pointing at Daisy.

“No wonder you didn’t make it into the Academy,” he sighed, shaking his head.

“Round two,” Daisy said, her hook swords materializing in her hands. Fern blew her a kiss, and then he began transforming back into a giant. Being so close to him now, Bastion realized just how intimidating he was. It was no wonder that the Enforcer was revered by their people.

“Come on,” Kent growled, patting Bastion on the back again. His muscles were beginning to increase in size rapidly, his skin stretching so far out that Bastion feared it would snap.

Michael and Mason attacked first, but this time, they didn’t go after Fern. They headed straight for Bastion. Bastion’s eyes widened as he saw a foot flying toward his face. He was shocked by how quickly all of his private training sessions didn’t mean a thing.

Chapter 5 – Intervention

James yawned as he climbed to his feet. The dust that clung to his clothes fell off into a cloud of soot and smoke. He coughed and tried to wave it away fervently. Arimus chuckled nearby as he too joined James in standing. James spit out some of the dirt that had gotten into his mouth.

“I see you’ve already had breakfast,” Arimus mused, his massive body shaking under his cloak. James chuckled in spite of himself, then he took a gaze up at the sun. It would be afternoon soon. “Are you sure we’re near the Quietus forest?” Arimus asked, as James scanned the area. The forest around them had no distinctive markers, but he had gone searching for the Quietus so often—he knew the area just as much as Allay.

“How could I forget?” James said as he stretched his legs out.

“It was many years ago. Without the meadow as a marker, it makes it harder to get through the wasteland.”

“I’ve been here enough,” James said. Arimus didn’t pry any further. He knew that James had spent the equivalent of months searching for his mother, but no trace of her had been found.

“Thank you for stopping for me,” Arimus said.

“No problem,” James said. “You know, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for us to spar against one another once in a while. It will keep you in better shape.”

“I’m past that time in my life. I would rather relinquish the duties to you. A lot less stressful. Honestly, I think this is the first time since Thorn that I have been out of Ashalynn’s company for more than an hour.”

“So you wouldn’t consider being the headmaster at the Academy?” There was a hint of hope in his voice that Arimus picked up on immediately.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong. Then we can get moving.”

“I don’t know what to do,” James admitted, shrugging his shoulders. He began pacing in front of his mentor, as he stared at the dirt at his feet. “I have no clue what to teach, or what to even say to them. They have eidolons, so what’s the next step? They already spar in the meadows and the forests. What do I have to offer?”

“You have what they lack: experience. And we should be grateful that they fall short in that area. They can become Sages naturally, and at their own pace. No one has to be born out of necessity. I wonder how many more we would have had with us on our quest if the terror of the unknown had not gripped so many.”

“It still doesn’t solve my dilemma though,” James sighed. “What do I do? Just have fun with them? When I think about it…I realize that I know nothing about what makes someone a Sage. We’re all the same. The stones that gave us our abilities were all the same. There is no difference between the Allayan and any other people. Every single person in Allay, right now, could work toward bringing forth an eidolon if they wanted to. The only thing that holds them back are the Orders and the memories of their past. I don’t even know why we are referred to as Sages anymore. The Langorans and the Prattlians aren’t called anything different when they transform or use their abilities. Why are we?”

“You are right,” Arimus said, nodding his head slightly. “There is no difference in that sense. But a weapon in one’s hand does not make them a soldier. A crown does not make a girl a Queen, or a boy a King. It is the actions that you take that determine your character. Not your composition. Not your heritage. It is your actions alone. A Sage is said to be a profoundly wise person. That is the very definition of the word. That means whomever becomes a Sage must have more than just the ability to wield an eidolon, which only indicates a basic understanding of thei soul’s properties.”

“Then I am not a Sage,” James said, facing his mentor head on. “Because all I know how to do is wield an eidolon.”

“You’ve done far more than—“

“—Think about it. I have an eidolon. I can transform into a Quietus, but that’s not because of something I necessarily learned. It’s because of my genetics. I can manifest, but so can everyone else if they put in the time. How am I any different than the students I will be teaching in a couple of days?”

“Would you consider me a Sage?” Arimus asked politely. James examined his mentor quickly, and then he closed his eyes.

“I would,” he replied. “But I don’t even know what I’m talking about. I didn’t become wiser just because I called forth an eidolon.”

“Then tell me, what do you think makes someone a Sage? At what point does someone embody the title? Is it something you earn, like becoming the general of an army? Or does it transform you? Isn’t Catherine a Queen? Doesn’t she embody the role?”

“I don’t know,” James sighed. “All I know…is that on opening day, I’m going to be saying a lot of stuff…that I don’t necessarily believe or understand.”

“Then say something that you do believe,” Arimus said, placing a hand on his pupil’s shoulder. “Speak from your heart. Inspire them to strive for higher. Who knows? They may even teach you.”

“Is that what happened?” James smiled. “Did we teach you something?”

“More than you know, my friend. And that is often how it is. Teachers have been conditioned and taught what to say, but the students themselves are a clean slate. Your job is to guide, not tell. Like coaxing the eidolon from the depths of your being, you are coaxing their potential and talent, asking it to rise from the surface, and transform the very world in which we live.”

*              *              *

Bastion clutched his face as he went flying into the grass, kicking up a number of insects and a great deal of soil in his wake. As he skidded to a stop, he could hear the cry of Mason from above. Instinctively, he rolled out of the way as a foot stomped down where his leg had been. The kick to his face hadn’t hurt, but that didn’t mean he was enjoying the sensation.

He was just about to start climbing to his feet when Michael came from behind, pushing him forward and onto his belly. The boys began kicking him in the ribs and the legs, each blow given more force than the last.

He couldn’t deny it. He was enjoying himself.

Sure he was at the receiving end of a beat down, but at least he was interacting with other kids. It was a little insulting that both Michael and Mason were focusing on him while the other three Langorans were all on Daisy, but at least they didn’t just hit him once and then leave. That would have been the worst. To think that one blow could keep him down. He wasn’t Zif. Speaking of…

Bastion lifted his head from the grass to check out the area. Sure enough, Zif was already sprawled out on his back, taking heavy and deep breaths.

A foot slammed down on the back of his head. Bastion’s face smashed into the soil, and he didn’t like that too much. Hadn’t Kent said there was to be no aiming at the head? That’s right. He had said for there to be no blades aimed there.

Still, the fact that he was now tasting grains of dirt and blades of grass irked him. Bastion reached behind him and grabbed an ankle, of whose, he would soon find out. With all the strength he could muster, he yanked on it, sending the boy flying to the ground. It was Michael.

Mason ran over to help his friend to his feet. Big mistake.

Bastion rolled onto his back and then jumped up to his feet, just as Michael was pulled to his by his partner. He looked to the boys back and forth, when a smile crept upon his face.

This was so much fun!

Michael ran at him first, but Bastion had already made a move. Before Michael’s foot even hit the ground, Bastion was in mid-air, slamming a flying fist straight into the boy’s nose. A loud popping sound caused him to back off. Thankfully, as soon as Michael’s butt hit the ground, he started yelling and clutching his nose. It was bleeding, but at least he wasn’t dead.

Mason took out his eidolon and swung right at Bastion’s face. Bastion took a step back to narrowly dodge the bulk of the blade. He could feel the edge just barely nick the middle of his nose. Before Mason could recover from the swing, Bastion reached out and grabbed the blade’s surface with both hands, keeping the edge between his palms.