Renzo

  Renzo never wanted to challenge the heavens - just learn how to use a spear. Turns out, Kambal had other plans.

  Lightning split the sky above, its light shining even through the heavy cloth cover of the wagon, though the following thunderclap was barely heard above the torrent of water falling from the sky. It had soaked through the waterproofed material minutes after the storm had begun, and that had been hours ago. The Driver of the carriage shuddered at the cold, drawing his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. Inside, the passengers were barely better off.

  “I ‘spect this’ll be one o’ them elemental storms,” one of the two men said, suppressing another shiver with supreme effort. He cast a quick glance - and a nasty grin - at the youth sitting across from him, his eyes glittering with malicious humor. “They say them storms swallow boys like you up, y’know. Pluck ya up and you never be seen again!”

  He lurched forward as he cackled, showing off his gnarly, broken teeth-or what was left of them. “What ya say ‘bout that, boy?”

  The ‘boy’ didn’t reply to him at once, instead looking to the right, where a man in dark blue robes sat, his back properly straight and his robes dry. “Is that likely, Jorath? Will this turn into an elemental storm?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Jorath said, idly turning a page in the book he was reading. Renzo didn’t know how the man could read in this storm, where the only light was the occasional flicker of lightning. He figured Jorath’s elemental affinity was keeping the rain off. Glancing up at the canopy, he saw a drop fall towards Jorath, then hit some invisible barrier before rolling away through the air. He tracked it until it disappeared into the puddle gathering on the floor. Even that avoided Jorath, he thought, seeing the circle of dry planks.

  “It could happen!” the older man said, letting out another cackle. “I know the stories, cultivator! I even seen it meself.”

  He leaned forward as if to deliver a secret, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Angry fairies, that’s what’s up there. Can’t kill cultivators, so they snatch the boys and girls on their way to the Academy.”

  Not for the first time, Jorath raised his eyes from his book and fixed them on the old man, warning him to back off. He wondered where their guide had come from. Nowhere on this continent had that particular way of speaking, he thought. “Stop tormenting the boy, Malgrith. He has quite enough on his mind, and your tall tales will help him none.”

  Turning to his left, he added, “Pay him no mind, Renzo. Malgrith… he enjoys his myths and legends. He also claims that he saw a dragon and a penguin dancing together at the peak of a volcano.”

  “It’s fine,” Renzo said shortly, swiping water from his brow, then making another futile attempt to push his hair out of his eyes. Normally a dark chocolate brown, the flooding rain had turned it black, and it was plastered to his face and getting in the way. “Uhh, what’s a penguin?”

  “A small flightless bird from the Frozen Coast,” Jorath said. “They are carnivores, and often travel very quickly by sliding belly-first on the ground. They have very thick feathers that block out the cold, and they eat fish.”

  “Oh right,” Renzo said, cutting in to spare himself another long lecture full of information he didn’t need. Jorath had already spent a considerable time telling him about a few things that interested him, and many that didn’t. But at least he answered his questions. “Wait… Why would it be on a volcano, then? If it’s used to the cold…”

  “It wouldn’t be,” Jorath said with a snort. “That is how you know the story is nonsense.”

  “Is not!” Malgrith said vehemently, leaning back like he’d been wounded. “I saw it, I did! They was dancing a jig right on the lava, without a care in the world!”

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  Jorath let out a long, slow breath. Not quite a sigh, but close. Choosing to ignore their eccentric guide for the time being, he turned toward Renzo again. “Are you comfortable, Renzo? I can dry your clothes for you again, if you like.”

  A small smile touched the corner of the youth’s mouth. “No thanks, Jorath. It’d just get soaked again in a few minutes. Besides, it’s not that cold.”

  Jorath studied him for a moment, watching the grey eyes flick up as another lightning bolt flashed across the sky. He certainly didn’t seem flustered by the cold, judging by the clouds of steam that were drifting off his body. He saw the boy’s lips move in the dim lighting, which was as bright as moonlight to his enhanced eyes, but the sound didn’t carry over the rain. “What was that?”

  “I hope one of my elements is lightning,” Renzo repeated, pitching his voice higher. “It’d be cool with my spear.”

  He patted the wooden haft of his weapon meaningfully and swiped water away from his eyes again. Jorath smiled in understanding. “Well, you won’t have access to it until you are Ardent. But I’m convinced you have fire, so it will be possible eventually.”

  Renzo’s eyes brightened at that, and he opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted by a jolt from the wagon. He thought they might have hit a rock, but when he noticed the lights outside the cloth wall of the cover, he realized they must have reached their destination.

  “Adept Jorath Stillwake, returning from his collection of a new Initiate.” Their driver spoke to someone Renzo couldn’t see. He caught a faint reply, and then a gentle knock on the side of the carriage.

  “Stillwake?” Renzo asked, turning to face Jorath. “I didn’t know that was your last name.”

  “It’s not,” Jorath replied, laughing softly. “I wasn’t born a family name, like most of this continent. Normally, I would be named for my father’s profession, but my potential for cultivation was noted early.-”

  There was another knock on the carriage, and he stopped speaking abruptly. “Right, out of the carriage, please, Renzo. Don’t forget your spear.”

  Renzo nodded, scooping up the weapon before clambering out of the back of the cart. The rain was even louder without the cloth to absorb its impact, hammering down into broad puddles with countless little plops. Jorath followed him out with considerable grace, lightly vaulting the barrier and landing without a sound beside him. Malgrith was much less successful, grumbling and groaning as his old bones protested the movement. Renzo distinctly heard him muttering something about ‘young fools’ but chose, wisely, to ignore it.

  “This way, Renzo,” Jorath said, putting a hand on his shoulder and steering him forward. At once, the driver of their carriage snapped the reins, and the horses started forward, pulling away from the large building. Renzo stopped in his tracks, gawking up at the glowing windows above.

  The Cultivation Academy - or the Kambal Hall, as most knew it - was a truly impressive building. It would be better to call it a castle, he thought, counting the stories. Eight of them. And then there were the seven towers that rose even above those, sometimes twice as high, and seemingly with enough space to make several rooms on each floor. The entire structure was built of pale grey slate and accented with dark brown wood.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to see it later,” Jorath said in his ear. The man’s voice was terse now, brooking no argument, and he took a step forward, allowing himself to be steered towards the large double doors that served as the main entrance. There were a few people moving throughout the huge entrance hall, though they paid the new arrivals no mind, save for a few curious glances. One figure in a fur jacket waved to Jorath and called a greeting.

  “To the right,” Jorath kept a firm grip on his shoulder even while inside, perhaps guessing - accurately - that Renzo would be lost in the decor and get distracted by countless things and people. Everyone here was dressed so… differently. Brightly colored fabric, elegant robes or tunics, each in a slightly different style and cut, yet… uniform. They all clearly fit in, and felt at home.

  Jorath led him down a long corridor with fewer people, doors passing them on either side. He continued guiding Renzo right up until the very last door, which led, not to a room as he’d expected, but another large chamber, with even more doors leading off to places unknown. Not giving him any time to get his bearings, Jorath steered him to the first door on the right, where he finally released his grip. “Right. No matter what, just be honest. Your progress will be stunted if you try to make claims you can’t back up. The teachers here do not care for wasting their time, so just answer their questions honestly, and you will be fine.”

  Then, without waiting for an answer, he lifted a hand and rapped sharply on the wooden door, the sound echoing ominously in the large empty chamber. There was a short pause, and then the door swung open. A thin, weedy man stood on the other side, wearing dull grey robes with a golden amulet slung around his neck - three rings that interlocked. His eyes flicked over Jorath’s face, then settled on Renzo’s face. He gave a small hmm, then stepped back, allowing them access.

  “Renzo Kiren, the council will see you now, and judge your fate.”