Engin

  “Isa said she saw an old hag walking our gardens the last time.”

  “Bull. I don’t believe her.”

  “You don’t believe anything!”

  “It isn’t fair. The girls have the better window; all we ever get to see is the stupid fountain.”

  “Engin! Stop hogging the window, it’s someone else’s turn now.”

  From the bottom-floor view of Lady Elenor’s manor, Engin awaited the fog with the other orphan boys, watching as it slowly powdered the air in a pastel grey.

  Beyond the bird fountain and just past the sculpted carvings that sat amongst an array of granite plinths, the smudges of deciduous tree line were smearing into a uniform white in the distance.

  Engin put his hand on the pane of the glass, leaving a faint wet print on the surface. He stared into the shadowed reflection; his truffle black hair was getting longer, coming down to his eyes.

  Two more weeks and Burn will have me shave it off.

  I don’t want to shave it off…

  “Hey-” Engin complained, shoved away from the window by Cisco, the blonde-haired orphan.

  “My turn,” he giggled, excitedly.

  Cisco was the youngest of the boys, turning only ten in the coming summer. And yet he had a certain vigor about him, adorable and outgoing.

  Engin ruffled his hair with a smile. “You’re getting much stronger.”

  “We’re supposed to be studying!” Perry tried to remind everyone from his bed.

  But no one paid any attention to him as usual.

  Engin sat up from the floor and found the comfiest depression in his own bunk, rolling his sheets over just enough to cover his waist. The sun hadn’t fully set, and yet it still felt like bedtime at the manor.

  At his bedside was his 5th year appraisal compendium, compiled with all the study chapters he’d need to pass the next standard. A three-hundred-page brick, the size of three palms.

  Engin flipped through the abundant arithmetic content and landed on a section dedicated to the Aya Machine.

  1000 years before the Monarchs Fall, the sovereign lords and ladies of our ancestral lands, constructed the most powerful machine our civilization has ever known, the Aya Machine. In this standard, we will delve deeper into the history of the Aya Machine, its functionalities, and the impact it has had on our modern societies. Additionally, we will offer a very fundamental overview of how the Aya Machine will affect your life as your own prima lobe comes of age and opens itself to a world of new and exciting possibilities!

  Engin ran his hand along the page. “But when...”

  He wanted to know if it would really happen. If that day would come? The day he’d get to announce it to everyone, just like Mabel, and Krip and Boog and all the others had before him.

  He was running behind, and it was embarrassing. Apart from him, only the smaller orphans were left without active prima lobes. Even Perry, who was two years younger at twelve, had an active lobe now.

  Lady Elenora had reminded him many times that it was common for some children to be late bloomers. In fact, he’d remembered a statistic from his previous year's compendium stating that around 3% of children don’t have active lobes until they turn fifteen.

  But Engin didn’t want to be part of that three percent. He wanted to fit in with the others. The others had already been practicing their mote channels, receiving instruction from a maegen at the end of every month and getting stronger each day.

  Engin flipped through more of the pages in the compendium, skimming through the content, hoping to find some reassurance, even though he knew he wasn’t going to get any. After feeling disheartened a few more times, he shut the book closed and put it back on the table beside him.

  “The new Chaser Weekly will be out tomorrow!” Boog shouted from his bed, banging on the sheets like an ape.

  “Whoa!”

  “You’re kidding!”

  All the other orphan boys abandoned their conversation near the window and ran to Boog instead.

  “Hey! Hey! Get away from me you hounds!” Boog swatted away Cede, Cisco, Henrietto and Jona who had all piled up around him.

  “Oy! All of you, back to your bunks!” Krip roared from inside his covers.

  “But it’s not fair! Boog has the tabloid all to himself!”

  “Let us see Boog, let us see!”

  “Alright! Alright! I’ll show it, just go way!” groaned Boog.

  Once everyone had found their places on their respective bunks, Boog went around the room with the tabloid, showing off the advertising campaign for the new issue of ‘Storm Thump!’ a popular storm chasing magazine.

  Posing his arms across the entire preview page was an unbelievably muscular man, wearing only a wooly cape over his shoulders, large leather cuffs on his forearms, and heavy steel chains that hung from the sides of his baggy trousers. He had the olive tanned skin of a southern Amarasi, and the tobacco spoiled teeth to match. Parked behind him was a very unorthodox silver storm chariot, finished with spiked armor attached to the sides and gigantic black wheels that looked like they could crush a diamond. Near the top of the page, the phrase; ‘A Family Like No Other’ was plastered in church font.

  Engin had recognized the man solely off of the ball and chain tattooed around his neck. Salatar, godfather of the Spikes Row Chasing Family.

  He’d grown his hair out into a braided pony now, different from the hawk he used to sport when Engin had first seen him in the papers. But still the same obnoxious grin to compliment it.

  “Amazing! Salatar’s finally broke into the top ten,” marveled Cede, his eyeglasses twinkling from behind a bed light.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “He’s mental. I heard that he and his brother fought through an entire horde of brute harbingers from a TF-3 surveyed storm all by themselves,” said Henrietto.

  “He’ll finish in the top 5 this year, for sure.”

  “What of it, the Immortals will still finish first,” declared Boog. “They’ll be focused this year, after all the busted chases they had last season.”

  “Not if Bora gets his hands on Leon first.” Krip joined in on the discussion. “Bora and his crew are in headhunting season, and they’ve yet to lose an honor duel.”

  “Bora is a coward!” Little Tommy blurted out. “Leon is still the best chaser in all the sovereign lands!”

  He’d kept to himself the entire time since the scuffle outside, but chaser talk was Little Tommy’s biggest weakness, especially now that his favorite chaser, Leon Goldstruik had been name-dropped.

  He seemed a bit nervous at first, his cheeks flaring red after all the attention in the room had shifted to him. “L-Leon says that chasing should be about tracking storms and saving lives, not fighting each other like savages.”

  “Try calling Bora a coward to his face, Tommy,” Krip grinned at him smugly. “He’d smash your guts in, just like he’d do to your precious Leon.”

  “Shut up!”

  Krip rose from his sheets, his eyes turning stern. “How many times do I have to tell you to watch your tone with me!”

  “I won’t! Because you’re a hypocrite! And I’ll tell Lady Elenora!” shouted Tommy.

  “I’ll tell Mr. Piggot!” Krip shouted louder.

  “Ughhhh… not again!”

  “You two are so boring... stop fighting all the time!” sobbed Jona, afraid of the rising voices.

  Engin watched on as Krip and Little Tommy’s spat was drowned out by the other orphans shaming them for fighting again. He stayed quiet this time, unbothered to get involved.

  Eventually, the room cooled down, falling into another awkward silence.

  “Leon does have the stronger crew though,” noted Cede, breaking the ice. “The Immortals are not only good chasers, but they protect Leon at all costs. That’s why nobody dares to get into an honor duel with Leon, they’re afraid of Big Freed and Mira Wicked and all the others they’d have to deal with.”

  “Why do they call her Mira Wicked?” asked Jona.

  “Because she’s a witch, stupid,” Boog replied obnoxiously. “And her hair goes all black and wild when she’s channeling her power motes.”

  “Oh, that must be very scary.”

  “Well, I think she’s very beautiful,” beamed Cisco. “Maybe I will marry her someday.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Hahahaha...”

  A rosy glow washed over Cisco’s dimples as all the boys began teasing him. Engin could not help but join in on the fun as well, it’d been a few days since he’d been able to laugh so freely, so he chuckled his heart out.

  Cisco himself seemed to be enjoying the attention, grinning so wide that all 24 of his little teeth were showing.

  “Engin.”

  “Hmm…?”

  Perry had leaned over in his bed to get Engin’s attention amidst the banter. “Engin… do you remember Highlan and Mars?”

  “‘...mmm, it does ring a bell…” Engin shrugged and took a guess. “Are they chasers?”

  “No,” giggled Perry. He struggled with the weight of his compendium but held it up just barely so Engin could see. “They were the founders of Prima Source. It says here that they started learning primanetics at only 12 years old… and etching into engrams at 16. Do you think that I could do the same?”

  Engin pulled his covers around his shoulders and turned to face Perry. “Course you can. I don’t know anyone as smart as you when it comes to understanding that stuff.”

  “Lady Elenora says that if I prove to her that I can channel my motes effectively by the end of next year, she’ll send a letter out to the church to test me early.”

  “Then you can finally start etching with the Aya machine. You’ll be the greatest primatician ever, Perry!”

  Perry seemed saddened by the thought of it. “But we won’t be together anymore.”

  Engin leaned in closer so nobody else could hear them. “Not unless I get into the same institution as you.”

  That put a smile on Perry’s face. “I really hope so. And I know that you’ll be the greatest at whatever you want to do as well. And maybe someday we’ll work together. And our names will be in a compendium like this, just like Highlan and Mars.”

  Engin wanted that. More than anything, ever.

  The doors to their sleeping quarters swung open.

  Into the room, like the flow of a river of wine, entered the lady, Elenora, donning her mahogany gown, burgundy locks, and lost eyes. She hadn’t done her makeup; no powder, no lip gloss, just a natural look, a few imperfections here and there, but it was her, in all her elegance and beauty. Her presence was so strong that even a monster like Burn could fade into one’s periphery when standing beside her.

  But of course, as it always went, Burn spoke first, and the lady let him.

  “Quiet down,” he croaked. “Jona… Boog… Krip, Perry…” He began making a note of all the boys who were present in the room. “…seems everyone is in their respective bunks, my lady.”

  Lady Elenora did not say a word. Instead, she glided down the middle of the room, her gown streaming behind her as she went to each bunk and planted a kiss on the forehead of each orphan.

  She stopped at Boog, examining the white wrapping that covered his nose.

  “-ehrm, umm, as I said earlier my lady, the boy is a klutz.” Burn stumbled over his words, waddling around to the lady’s ear to feed her lies. “Fell over on himself while playing ball with the others. Hit the ground pretty hard, but Madame Song says he should be fine in a day or two.”

  Boog kept his mouth shut, letting the lady examine his injury for herself.

  She poked the tip of his nose and smiled. “Don’t sneeze. It might break.”

  Boog was amused, and Lady Elenora moved on.

  When it came to Engin’s turn, he gave the lady a salute, which she answered back with a hand on his cheek. He always did that. That was their thing.

  A fiery perfume of cinnamon and apple flung off from her, embracing him like warm oatmeal in the morning.

  “Bless you, my child.” She laid a soft kiss on his head, and then fixed his hair so that it was out of his eyes.

  When she returned to the front of the room, she raised her voice so that it resonated along the walls like a harp. “I trust that you children remember our rules for the fog.”

  “No looking out at it during the night, Lady Elenora.” Cisco answered her proudly.

  Lady Elenora bowed her head to acknowledge him. “Yes, Cisco. And no wandering the courtyards or the gardens at night. Or frightening the young ones just so you can have a laugh.”

  She’d meant that last bit specifically for Boog; after he’d played a rag on Jona the last year. Jona had the terrors for weeks, waking up in the middle of the night crying like a newborn. Suffice to say, Boog had learned his lesson. Don’t mess with the wimps, or they’ll make you pay with your own sleep.

  “How long will the fog stay over, Lady Elenora?” asked Perry.

  “Not very long, my dear. By midday tomorrow it should be completely gone.”

  Lady Elenora joined her hands together against the silk of her gown. “Now, as you all know I will be very busy tonight preparing for my next release. Therefore, I won’t be joining you for dinner in the hall this evening. But rest assured, the dinner will be as delightful as always, and if you ever require anything of me before bed or any time after, my door will always remain open.”

  “And mine as well,” Burn added with a toothy grin.

  Lady Elenora nodded. “Even if it is just a little anxiety or fear. Do not hesitate to wake us. Understood?”

  “Yes, Lady Elenora,” the orphans acknowledged in unison.

  Lady Elenora exchanged a few murmurs with Burn, and then said her good nights, before leaving the orphans to deal with him on their own.

  Burn inspected the room, as if there was something unlawful he was going to find. A few grumpy sighs later he shut the blinds of the window for good.

  “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” he reminded them. “I will come to get you when it is. Until then, keep the noise down, your behavior mindful, and-”

  A train of footsteps came tumbling from behind Burn, and then the familiar voice of Madame Deitrich, the tall and strong bodied caretaker who always wore her hair in a tight blonde bun. The wet-stained apron around her work dress suggested she’d just gotten out of helping Mr. Dooley prepare dinner in the kitchens.

  She had a concerned look about her as she got into Burn’s ear, her furrows crunching downward as she spoke to him in a voice that was just barely audible from the front of the room.

  By the end of the conversation, Burn somehow seemed more bothered than he’d been at the start of it.

  He didn’t say another word, glancing about the room once over before pacing into the corridor, out of sight. Madame Deitrich nodded her head silently at the orphans and closed the double doors behind them.

  “She’s locking us in.” Boog was the first to speak up.

  A few more of the boys chimed in, speaking over the top of each other.

  “The girls never get locked in.”

  “Maybe Chae’s spilled gravy all over the floor again!” Henrietto laughed.

  “Not a chance, Mr. Dooley doesn’t let her step foot into the kitchens now when he’s working.”

  Engin decided to keep to himself, leaning over his bunk and pulling on the wood of his drawer underneath.

  He could have sworn he’d read ‘trouble’ on Madame Dietrich's lips.

  But on this estate, there wasn’t anything surprising about that at all.