Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (30 page)

First Fourthday

Serenity Valley

Shawnrik had gotten very little information out of Instructor Daymarr the day before. She seemed more interested in finding out how he learned about his coming growth spurts than she was in telling him anything about them. He hadn’t given her any information, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out. Hopefully Instructor Boulette wouldn’t get in too much trouble for telling his student the truth.

He and Verrian had just left Philosophy. Instructor Bluestaff had once again set their minds to racing as they considered all of the angles they had been given on the day’s topic. Today had been a debate on the positives and negatives of being selfish. It still amazed him how many of the students fought so fervently that selfishness was a positive. Intellectually, he understood why they did, but he thought that seemed like an awfully lonely way to go through life.

Shaking such thoughts away, he turned towards a part of the school that he had not yet been to.

“So are you really going to talk to the Headmistress?” Verrian said at his side.

“I am, and you don’t have to go with me. I’m sure there are a thousand other things you would rather be doing with your free time than walking towards the Staff building.”

“Maybe,” Verrian said. “Then again, I’ve never been inside the Staff building either, so it’s either go and read some boring books, or go on an adventure with my best friend. I think the choice is obvious.”

Shawnrik chuckled. He knew that Verrian wasn’t only going with him to see the Staff building, but he decided to let the matter drop, as they both knew that he would do the same for Verrian.

A guard stood outside the building that had a large sign that read simply “Staff.” He raised an eyebrow at them as they approached.

“What business do you have here?” the man said.

“I’m here to see the Headmistress,” Shawnrik replied, attempting to keep his tone strong.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

The man sighed and pulled up a strange device at his side. “Security to Headmistress’s office.”

“Headmistress’s office, go ahead,” a soft female voice replied through the object.

“I have two students here to see the Headmistress.”

“I don’t see any appointments scheduled, what are their names?”

The guard stared at them until they realized that he wasn’t going to repeat the question for them.

“Shawnrik Larston.”

“Verrian Smith.”

“Shawnrik Larston and Verrian Smith,” the Guard said into the device.

“One moment, please.” Silence reigned as the guard glowered at them. The man seemed discomforted by the fact that Shawnrik was slightly larger than himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when the soft female voice returned. “Alright, send them in please, Chuck.”

“You heard the lady,” Chuck said, gesturing to the doorway. “Take the stairs to the right and go to the top, her office is at the end of the hall.”

In many ways, the building was a lot like the rest of the buildings on campus. It was a well-built stone building that seemed old but well taken care of. Shawnrik felt a buzzing in the air in this building that he didn’t in the others though, and his back itched like it did when someone was watching him. They walked past a room that had view screens from one wall to the other. He understood the feeling as he noticed himself and Verrian on one of the images.

Seeing himself was one of the strangest things that he had to get used to when he had first come to the Institute. Before then, he had only seen his reflection in puddles of water and streams. He had gotten used to seeing himself in the mirror that ran along the wall in the boy’s shower room, but seeing himself move around on a view screen was an odd experience. One of the guards watching the screens noticed the boys and shut the door.

“How do they do that?” Shawnrik asked as they started up the stairs.

“You have seen the little domes in the ceiling around campus right?” Verrian said, pointing at one such dome above their head in the stairwell. “They capture the light in much the same way that our eyes do and transmit the data to those screens. We have a bank of monitors set up around our house, and there is even more security at my dad’s office.”

“That’s amazing. I wonder if the Mages have something like that.”

“From what I’ve learned about these Shapers, I would say that it is entirely possible. I don’t see why they wouldn’t be able to mimic this type of technology. In fact, it might even be easier for them to hide that they are doing it as well.”

“How do you suppose?” Shawnrik asked.

“Well, we need to set up devices with moving parts and wires, whereas they just need to set up an ocular lens of some sort and channel the light back to where they want to project the image. I’m sure that we could build such things into our buildings so that they weren’t as obvious, but that kind of thing isn’t easy with buildings that are this old and so sturdily constructed.”

Shawnrik nodded. Sometimes he wondered what it must be like in his friend's mind; Verrian always seemed to be thinking about a dozen different things at once.

Their steps slowed as they approached the office at the end of the third floor of the building. They glanced at each other and smiled as they recognized their own nervousness mirrored in their companion. Shawnrik knocked.

“Come in,” the same soft female voice that they had heard only a few minutes prior from the guard’s device said.

They opened the door to reveal a small, meticulously kept office. Behind the extremely well kept desk sat a person the likes of which Shawnrik had never seen before. White tufted ears pointed in their direction and emerald feline eyes seemed to take in everything about them in an instant. Those beautifully strange eyes darted to Shawnrik’s left and a small frown stole over her features, and her nose began to twitch.

Following the direction of the gaze, Shawnrik noticed that his shirt sleeve had rolled over slightly, so he tugged it straight. A small sigh of relief escaped the woman a moment before her frown turned into a smile.

“Mr. Larston, Mr. Smith. Welcome. The Headmistress is currently busy, but should be able to see you shortly.” She gestured towards a comfortable looking bench along the wall that was just large enough for the pair to sit comfortably.

Shawnrik noticed a plaque on the desk that read
Klerrah Starlight
,
and in smaller letters underneath it read
Personal Assistant.
He tried to examine Klerrah without being completely obvious about it. From what he could tell she looked to be about a head shorter than Verrian, putting her at about the same height as Dunnagan. Unlike his stout Dwarven friend, however, Klerrah was slight and lithe. Shawnrik had the feeling that the woman could pounce on them at any moment.

They didn’t have to wait long until the doorway on the other end of the room opened, revealing the large form of the Headmistress. Torva Blackbriar was even more impressive up close, but he didn’t think there was any way that he would ever consider the woman attractive. Her dark green skin was riddled with strange growths, and the poor woman’s face looked like someone had hit her with a frying pan. Shawnrik wondered if all female trolls looked like that, but he doubted he would ever have the chance to learn differently.

When she spoke, however, the Headmistress had a voice that he felt could calm a raging pack of Grim’le. Her voice caressed every syllable and made each word important, like an artist slowly revealing sections of their masterpiece bit by bit. “Klerrah, thank you for entertaining these young men while I finished my work. How did they behave?”

“Oh they were fine, Torva, perfect gentlemen.” She leaned in conspiratorially, and mock whispered. “They only stared at my ears a couple times.”

“Well, I suppose there are worse things they could have been staring at,” the Headmistress mock whispered back, causing Klerrah’s eyes to open wide.

Shawnrik thought he caught the flash of a tail for a second before the woman sat back down. She began to move the pens around on her desk, making sure that each faced straight up and down with a precise space between them, pointedly ignoring everyone else in the room. The boys had to hold in a surprised chuckle as the Headmistress turned towards them and winked. She motioned them to follow her into her office a moment before she turned, expecting that they would follow.

Verrian and Shawnrik stood quickly to follow, and Shawnrik’s calf hit the bench, causing it to let out a little groan as it slid backwards. White ears pointed towards the noise and Klerrah’s nose began to twitch furiously. Shawnrik pulled the bench forward and received a slight nod of thanks in return from the small assistant.

Torva Blackbriar stood on the other side of the door to her office, closing it quietly after the boys entered. She held up a hand to get their attention and pointed back towards the door she had just closed conspiratorially. A few moments later, they heard the tell-tale slide of the bench as her assistant positioned perfectly. They all shared a silent chuckle as the Headmistress walked past them to the far end of the room to sit at her desk.

On their way to the two chairs that sat in front of their Headmistress’s desk, they took the opportunity to scan the room. Every wall was filled with pictures and every available shelf space held different knickknacks, some next to framed pictures. Shawnrik had the feeling that each and every object in the room had some significance to the woman who was in charge of their education. The sheer amount of memorabilia made him wonder just how long Torva Blackbriar had been at the Institute of Learning.

“Shawnrik,” she said gesturing to one of the chairs, followed by a gesture to the other. “Verrian.”

The boys took their seats tentatively, suddenly nervous.

“I’ve heard good things about you two from your Instructors. They say you are both extremely intelligent and diligent workers. Verrian, I’ve heard that you have a knack for your studies from your Instructors in Game Theory and Linguistics. I’ve also been told that you are performing above expectations in both Basic Offense and Strength Training.”

“I don’t know about all of that, ma’am, I'm just doing my best,” Verrian said.

“Well, keep at it. From what I understand you have one heck of a head on your shoulders.” Torva grinned. “Shawnrik, I’m told you have a great interest in Mythology and History, and Instructor Boulette seems to think that you’ll surpass your father in fighting ability soon. He already thinks you could have won an arm wrestling contest.”

“Thank you,” Shawnrik said, trying not to let such thoughts sink in too deeply at the moment. “From what I’ve been told about him, I will take that as quite the compliment.”

“That’s right. You don’t have many memories of your parents, do you?” Her voice softened and he had to fight the urge to cry like a baby at her tone.

“No ma’am, sometimes I have dreams about them, but their faces fade by the time I wake up,” Shawnrik said, a tear slipping free and rolling down his cheek.

The kindness in those large brown orbs was nearly unbearable, and he looked away only to see his roommate crying in the seat next to him. Shawnrik sighed and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

“I have the same thing happen with my mom,” Verrian sniffed. “At least we have pictures of her so I can refresh her image ever now and then.”

“Oh!” The Headmistress said, standing quickly. “I think I have a picture of them! Now, where was that?” She browsed the pictures on her walls and shelves for a little while, occasionally picking one up and smiling before putting it back down and continuing her search. “Here it is.”

Verrian’s head shot up, and Shawnrik suddenly felt sick. He had come here to talk about his growth spurts, and now he was suddenly going to see his parents for the first time in over nine years. The Headmistress held out the picture for Shawnrik to take, but before he could make his hand move Verrian grabbed the picture.

“Oh wow! Look at that!” Verrian said studying the image. “He looks small beside her, but he wasn’t, was he? From what I’ve heard, he was bigger than anyone except the Giants.”

“That’s right,” Torva said, taking her seat. “Well, the Giant-kin and any of my kin had they decided to pursue anything other than scratching their own backsides and rutting in the rain.”

The regret in her voice was palpable and Shawnrik wished they had the time to delve deeper into that particular subject, but he had a feeling that it would take much longer than the hour they had. Suddenly, there they were. Verrian was holding the image in front of his face. He wasn’t able to stop the stream of tears this time and their images blurred. Wiping his eyes he stared at the image, trying to drink in every detail.

His mother Lilly Lightfeather and his father Aerick Heartstone stood outside the library. She was talking about something, her hands in the air trying to express some unknown concept, a smile from one corner of her face to the other. Her hair was a light brown, and the eyes that sparkled so brightly in the picture were a slightly larger version of the yellow topaz orbs that stared back at him every time he looked in a mirror.

Standing tall and holding a stack of books half his own height was his father. His eyes were at an equal height to her chest. He was listening intently to whatever it was that she was describing, a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. The light hitting his dark hair made it look like a dark blue, and his eyes were like well-cut brown tourmaline. Well-honed muscles seemed to barely register the large pile of books that he carried and he held himself with a surety that Shawnrik recognized. It was the same look of self-assured superiority that Nim, Ashur, and Dunnagan all had; it was the look that men get when they have been through things that few others will understand.