Page 22 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

Let Them Wonder

A s I suspected, my History final went well. Ramona was not too sure on her performance, but chalked it up to getting distracted by the clicking sounds from Professor Allor’s large timekeeping device in the front corner of her classroom.

My Elementation final left me with the opposite feeling. I was able to conjure a small sunfyre spark, but I still struggled with my protective solarys shield and blayze , a flash of light that is supposed to confuse and blind opponents.

Mine would probably manage to attract enemies.

Leaf had made channeling sun magic look so easy when we were traveling.

Now that I’ve learned to channel basic Sun’cher spells, I realized that Leaf had been conjuring a solarys shield around our camp and during the attack at the Rose & Raven.

Now that I think of it, I remember multiple of the bright flashing lights Leaf used to blind the Underlings. Blayze !

Each one of those spells had been extremely useful during our travels. I can only imagine the usefulness that power would have on the battlefield.

I shiver at the thought of actually going to war. Hopefully it never comes to that.

Now, Ramona, Leaf, and I make our way to the Lower Fields. It looks different today. The obstacle course still sits near the back wall, but instead of various training equipment, there are rows of chairs.

Across the room, Castor is talking to a few other third-stones. His eyes snap to mine, a light trace of apology in his expression.

I examine the training floor. Black, with the smallest white speckles in it. I will not get distracted today . Not when I have been working so hard for this moment. The bags under my eyes and aching muscles are proof enough.

More cadets climb down the hatch. Professors, townsfolk from the nearby village, and active duty WatchGuards join afterward.

Turbulent waves of nerves flip and roll in my stomach as the seats start to fill.

“Cadets!” Commander Hogsmith’s voice booms across the room. “Line up.”

“Good luck.” Ramona squeezes my hands, then runs off to get a good spot in the line.

“Thanks,” I mumble to myself and start edging my way into the line.

I end up getting a spot in the middle next to Leo and Lacerta.

Castor and Leaf managed to snag the first two spots.

After them, I could see Sabra and her huge red-headed brother, Ragnar, seething at their second-rate spots.

Ragnar’s large form practically takes up two spots in the line.

Shoulders rise and fall with impatient breaths.

Hogsmith turns to face the room, now full of spectators.

“Cadets, Watchers, Staff, and friends, the Battlefield final will consist of one task—completing the obstacle course before us,” he gestures to the deadly course behind him and continues. “As you know, this year is the 9 th Summit.”

The crowd murmurs with excitement and anticipation so contagious that my stomach now flutters with butterflies.

I’m sure an audience for a final test was not common.

They were experiencing history right in front of them, probably wondering who would make it across, what they would be like in the Presentation, or even as a Champion in the Summit if they were lucky enough to be chosen.

“Our royal counterparts will be joining us in a few short weeks. Those who make it across today will be able to testify their magic and weaponry skills before our beloved Elders”—the room claps enthusiastically—“Elven Tribe Leaders”—respectful claps—“and Underworld Lords.”

The room goes silent. I feel my lips pull taut into a frown.

Hogsmith looks toward the line. “Ah, it seems Castor Washington is the first to attempt the course. On my mark!”

I peer over Leo’s shoulder. Castor is in a low crouch with one hand on the floor. All of the muscles in his body look clenched, like a spring being compressed before it explodes.

“Go!” the Commander yells and blows a high pitched whistle.

Castor jumps off the ledge and lands with one foot on the first small square, only instead of landing and balancing, he jumps right onto the next one, and the next one, and…

I pull back behind Leo and shut my eyes. Watching is only making me more nervous, and I really don’t want to vomit in front of all these people.

Cheers erupt after another minute. Castor must have made it to the other side.

A whistle blows, then cheers.

Another whistle. More cheers.

Many cadets make it across, but not all. I edge forward. Bile rises in my throat, giving me no choice but to hum a song. Singing always calms me—eventually, that is.

The Mad Man’s March seems reasonable enough to compare to this situation. I shuffle my feet forward, eyes on the floor, as a scream erupts shortly before a splash.

More applause, more screams, and more splashes occur as I inspect the laces on my boots. The black threads are intricately woven, creating an illusion of endless knots.

“Akemi!” Hogsmith yells from right next to me. My eyes snap upward toward his face in shock.

“On my mark!”

I turn to look at the course.

I can do this. Just repeat what I did this morning. I narrow my eyes and lower my body to the ground, readying myself for the first initial leap across the waves still rippling from the last candidate falling.

“Go!” he whistles, and I leap.

I make it to the first small platform easily and shift my feet to leap across. I nearly fall off when I land. My arms instinctively flail outward to catch my balance.

I complete the rest of the platforms much more easily, only to find myself at the floating barrel that has been the source of my demise for many practices.

“Go fast, don’t stop,” I whisper to myself. “Slow means falling. Falling means water. You don’t like water.”

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and leap. My right foot finds its mark, and I use that same step to propel me across.

“Yes!” I whisper, then pick up where I left off in my song as I reach for the rope net above. This is the easiest part for me.

My palms have long lost their supple softness from practicing this very section.

I grit my teeth and move my tune up a half pitch.

Seems appropriate to modulate the key along with the stakes.

I swing my legs upward, hooking my knees in the net exactly like I did this morning, slowly making my way toward the other side.

At the end of the net, I look down, dreading this next section. Below me is a long wooden plank bobbing in the water from its air-filled platform on either side. Story telling, I’m a natural. Singing, call me talented.

But dancing and overall balance, I’m terrible.

I unlink my legs and hang down above the beam.

“Shit!” My left palm slips, eliciting a few gasps from the crowd I had almost forgotten. Almost.

A guttural sound escapes me as I swing my arm back up to the rope. Calluses reopen at my effort. Pain sparks through my body, but I ignore it.

Now that my grip is fixed, I stop and steady myself for the landing and drop.

My knees buckle under me, but I make it and begin to walk down the floating plank, arms out and knees slightly bent to absorb the waves.

I hear a splash to my left. I’m supposed to be the only one on the course! I chance a quick glance only to find Sabra apologizing for accidentally knocking a first-stone into the water.

Of course it’s fucking Sabra trying to make a rise out of me. That will not do.

I refocus my eyes toward the slender plank beneath my boots now bobbing up and down. I stick my hands out, quickly catching my balance. My heart thrums in my ears, a steady tact to which I breathe. I bend my knees and absorb the movement from the waves.

I block out the noises and yelling I hear from the audience. Likely from Sabra’s attempt to thwart my chances of making it across the water-slicked beam.

I don’t celebrate this time when I get to the halfway mark because the second half of the beam has two alternating poles that hang from the ceiling like a pendulum.

The first pole swings, and I run across the plank. My right foot slips and I go down hard, knees scraping against the plank. Somehow, I manage to keep enough balance to avoid falling off the course.

Sweat trickles down my neck, though I’m not sure if it’s from the pure physical strain of my body, the stress, or the inferno of rage I feel inside.

The second pole swings at a faster rate, so I need to run the moment it crosses the center. I take a moment to find the pattern.

Three…

Two…

One…

I run, one foot in front of the other, knees bent.

“ Yes! ” I whisper aloud to myself as I make it across.

I dab the sweat on my brow with the back of my hand. Before me is the last section of the course. Two rotating barrels with spikes jutting outward, beckoning to skewer an unlucky victim. I reach into my breast pocket and feel the dark green patch Marrow gave me.

Live a life worthy of Telling , he told me. Deep within myself, in this very moment, I can feel the threads of my story beginning.

I stare at the twisting barrels, watching for the pattern. Like harp strings, there is a rhythm, a pattern.

I roll my shoulders. Watching, waiting.

There it is. The pattern!

I smirk and bolt, sprinting toward the death trap. This time I don’t choke or fall into the water.

Keeping my pace, I jump toward the final sand pit… and land! My body hurls forward, and I throw my hands out just in time. My palms take the brunt of my landing so my face wouldn’t have to.

“Akemi! You made it!” Ramona runs toward me and offers me a hand up, but Leaf beats her and pulls me into a huge, spinning hug.

“Welcome to the club, Kem!” he says.

“Thanks,” I say as Leaf lowers me down. I wince. My body hurts everywhere, but completing the course is worth it.

I fucking did it. I made it into the Presentation! One step closer to earning the Helios Stone.

Leaf leads me to the side while other cadets attempt the course.

Castor slowly approaches and pulls me into a crushing hug. “You are amazing, Akemi. I wasn’t sure if you could do it.” He pulls away but grasps my shoulders. Something like pain flashes in his eyes. “I asked, and cadets can forfeit their spots. You can get out of this. It’s too dangerous.”

I just did one of the most impressive things of my life, and Castor wants me to step away? “I’m not going to forfeit my spot, Castor. I deserve to compete like the other cadets that earned their spot!”

“It’s just something to think about. The Summit is notoriously dangerous. Students have died in past trials. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezes me again, and I wince.

He goes rigid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I respond, ignoring the searing pain in my arm, not wanting to look weak in front of my classmates. They already saw me nearly drown on my first attempt.

Let them wonder how I grew from almost drowning to completing the course.

“Just a little sore,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t probe after that, though I can sense his concerned glances, tracking up and down my body, checking for signs of injury.

We watch as a few other cadets make it across, though many end up falling into the water and thus forfeit their spot to the Presentation.

“That concludes the final. Please join me in welcoming our Presenting cadets,” Commander Hogsmith announces and points toward the wall of cadets where I stand. The crowd cheers and claps, celebrating fervently the fifty or so cadets set to compete for the few coveted Summit spots.

“Winter Solstice break begins tonight. Celebrate with family, relax, and come back ready to showcase your best weapons and magic skills. The Presentation will take place the night of the Summit Gala when our royal delegates arrive. There, the royals will select their champions. Only fifteen will be given this honor.” The Commander looks at us sternly, then adds, “Be ready to impress. We will prove to all watching that Humans are not a lesser race!”

Cheers erupt from the crowd. Cadets around me clap, so I join.

I know from my stories that humans are anything but perfect.

Practically evoked the Elf Wars, though most accounts will share a different side of history.

That is why it is so important for Tellers to exist. Marrow and other Master Tellers pass along the truth, responsible for the story’s integrity first and foremost, egos and politics aside.

Protecting the truth was one of the most honorable things for a Teller, half of which attracted me to taking on the apprenticeship.

I had hoped to find that honor in Telling, but now I am on a different path to seek justice. Getting selected as a champion is just step one toward my destiny. I can feel it.

“Be gone! Cadets, see you in four weeks’ time.” Commander Hogsmith raises his hands above his head and claps. The course behind him disappears as if it was never there.