Spycraft Academy B. Miles (new ebook reader txt) 📖

stirring the hairs atop his head. "Talent is not the force of Will onto the universe, for what is forced is unnatural, and what is unnatural is rejected. To have patience, to open your center, to welcome everything and invite solidarity. That is Talent. All else is luck."

Sam held his breath and tried to keep absolutely still.

"Stagnater!"

He rapped Sam's head with his knuckles as if knocking on a door. Sam winced. The teacher was still standing behind him, he couldn't have possibly seen Sam's face, and yet he knew that Sam wasn't 'traveling.'

"You have not opened yourself again, Samson. Breathe and think of your color, your magic. Shadows. Blackness. The void that opens and swallows all, gathering everything that has ever been into its infinity. Black is the color of true power, shadow is the father element that all have sprung from, and yet you are still unable to do this simple exercise. Black trumps red, siphoning the radiant energy and replacing it with the absence of energy, imposing the Will of creation unto it by allowing all thought, all mass, all soul to entangle in the void, but you refuse to leave the world of the sun, the light, the red and white, and dissolve into the truth . . . of oblivion!"

The Sheet scoffed and stood straight before marching away, continuing his lecture as if he didn't just chastise Sam for being useless. Sam stared at his retreating form and shook his head.

Whatever. Loony old man.

As soon as he thought that The Sheet's head snapped aside, the profile of his crooked nose like a smashed bird's beak. His dark eye rolled in his skull and landed on Sam. They shared the briefest of stares before The Sheet turned his head and continued.

Even though it was an impossible power, Sam wasn't entirely convinced The Sheet couldn't read minds.

Sam, Mattie, and Drina were on their way to the mess hall after Meditation class. They took the shortcut through the alley behind the tower. It was usually empty, spirits knew why, and it was the only other place besides the garden that was dedicated solely to something simple and beautiful rather than harsh and utilitarian. Along both alley walls, from beginning to end, were smooth waterfalls that fell from perfectly shaped spaces between the stones and into clear, vivacious ponds stretching just as far, full of waterlilies and animals.

The sounds of the campus were drowned out by the gentle, constant splash of the water, the croak of fat frogs and the occasional chirp of a songbird.

Sam let his fingers glide through the waterfall as they made their way to lunch. Mattie was walking beside him, her fingers intertwined with his as she sang a pretty tune. It would be winter soon, and this pond wouldn't be as alive as it was now. He couldn't wait to see it in spring, when it would appear like something from a far away, impossible world.

"A girl so sweet, lo' there, he said, and the vase cracked in her hands. Haven't you a care, she said, you tread into my lands. You desecrate this sacred place, this altar of Arete. The shards fell in the mud below, like pearls laid at her feet. He bowed his head then wrapped them both with iron and with bone, and she screamed out to the spirits that had left her all alone. Fire, shadow, sound and soul, all come north to meet. Your mother's blood, your father's might, it's all for me to keep."

"Geez Mattie, where did you hear that one?" Sam interrupted her song. It was deceptively cheery in tone, which made the lyrics eerier than if it had been somber.

She frowned hard and studied him for a few moments before she answered hesitantly, "You don't remember Old Code?"

The name was familiar, but it took him a moment to conjure the memory. When he did remember, Sam turned inward to recall the song. He was usually so good at remembering small things like that, he didn't know how he forgot it. And Old Code . . . why couldn't he remember the old homeless man outside of his toothless smile? The memories were scattered like bone dice, and whenever he tried to force the fuzziness away, his stomach churned. He stopped trying to remember.

"I do," Sam said. "I just don't remember the song."

He considered Drina as she walked far ahead of them, her form slowly morphing into something taller, skinnier, older. Old Code . . . Sam remembered . . . stop.

His stomach gurgled and his throat tightened like he was going to vomit and he squeezed his eyes shut against Drina's retreating form. When he opened them again, it was just Drina.

A new sound echoed through the alley. Footsteps. Multiple footsteps. Sam glanced behind his shoulder, expecting a group of older students. Instead, it was Delcan. Sam had almost forgotten about Delcan's attempt to piss him off earlier until he spotted the larger man stalking toward him from behind. He was silent, staring at Sam through hooded eyes that would have looked at home on a starving mongrel.

Two of his crew members were walking behind him as if he was some sort of battle commander.

It would be very stupid of Sam to meet the other crew head-on. Mattie must have thought the same thing, because she squeezed his hand and walked faster.

He tried calling to Drina to alert her, but before Sam could open his mouth, Drina had already turned the corner.

Sam picked up the pace, the soles of his shoes clapping against the cobblestones like an encouraging applause.

Two figures dropped to the ground in front of Sam and he pulled up short, yanking his hand from Mattie. She didn't need any verbal cues, she simply pressed her back to his and he turned them so he was facing Delcan.

His boot knife was in his hand in seconds.

A tongue of flame licked toward his face. Sam pushed Mattie to the ground and ducked atop