After breakfast, Narvez led the recruits of 2A to the training grounds where they came to a stop on a running track. The sun was just starting to rise above the wooded hills in the distance, and the new officer pulled a cap on to shade his eyes.
“Recruits, at attention!” Narvez commanded.
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Thorn was a syllable behind the rest in response as they saluted in unison.
“Instructor Burnitz, your recruits. Stellers, step forward.” Narvez tipped her head to the ginger-bearded man. “Instructor Burnitz, your newest recruit—Stellers. Good luck with this one.”
Thorn shuffled forward, uneasy with the limelight for the first time in his life. Instructor Burnitz scoffed, then sized him up like livestock. Thorn felt his anger rise, but only just.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you’re called, recruit. Get back in line.” Burnitz’s voice was all bite and no bark. Thorn could sense the danger this man held at his fingertips.
“Get ready to run, Proby,” Val whispered over her shoulder in his general direction.
Rodie’s right. Thorn raised a brow as he took in the hard lines that shaped her physique. She’s a beast.
“Recruits! Fall in!” Without another word, Burnitz started down the track with a quickness that took Thorn by surprise.
Thorn hadn’t been on a run in ages. His chest burned as they trekked through the hills and slogged through muddy banks, but he refused to fall out. He wouldn’t be that Proby. The other bunks had just caught up with them when Thorn’s legs began to falter, and his mind told him the run was over. But they continued. They must have done about six miles when Burnitz finally spoke above the gasps and moans.
“What’s the matter? We’re just over halfway there now.” Burnitz chuckled at the hopeless grunts. He stayed ten yards ahead of the rest, seemingly unfazed by the rugged terrain. “You know, I am feeling a bit shaded in these trees. Can any of you get my hat off my head?”
A few recruits started moving faster and pressed forward, but Burnitz only increased the distance between them. Now he turned and ran backward, a slight smile lifting the corner of his beard.
“Ease up, now. Run any harder and you’ll hit the ground before you hit me.” Burnitz continued to run backward, his feet finding purchase on the ground below as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
Despite himself, Thorn let out a groan. Luckily, it wasn’t heard over the retching behind him. He looked up and saw Rodie, by some act of the gods, appeared to be at the front of the pack. He had to admit, the nerd had great cardio. Thorn watched as Rodie raised his hands, running awkwardly with shoulders stiff to the front. A globe of light built in his palm and he threw it forward, but it was an awkward motion, like a fawn taking its first steps. The globe splattered against the ground and blew Rodie’s feet from beneath him. He hit the trail hard and whimpered before scampering back to his feet at the back of the pack, head down.
Burnitz chortled. “There we have it! The best of the best! Is that all you fresh bloods got? A miserable fizzing of energy that takes out the ’caster?”
All around him, Thorn saw balls of light begin to glow one by one, and each fizzled out before it could be thrown at Burnitz. He clenched his jaw and directed his eyes to the dirt, determined not to give in to his anger at Burnitz. The instructor was an asshole, but an asshole with a purpose. Thorn would avoid being one of the many. Instead, he let the anger simmer as everyone else around him failed, their magical efforts little more than an embarrassment.
“Kids, kids—we’re all going to be friends someday, but not with this terrible attitude,” Burnitz called, hoping to further break their egos. “Can’t run, can’t fight.” He sniggered. “And can’t even perform magic. Not a good way to assault your instructor and reveal your incompetence.” He lifted a brow, smiling at them, his feet still moving like pistons. “You have to understand enemy strength, along with your own ability. So far, I’m seeing neither.”
Val growled and threw her hands forward, a bright white ball of light flying from them. Burnitz sidestepped easily and the globe splintered the tree beside him.
“There we go! That’s some fire!” Burnitz lit up—literally; his eyes glowed with an electric blue. Val tried to harness the energy once more, but it only sparked.
Guess I’m not the only failure here. Thorn fought a chuckle and lost the battle. Burnitz stopped in his tracks. The recruits collided and tumbled over one another in the abrupt stop, like a train piling up in slow motion wreckage. Thorn’s legs twitched as if they itched to keep going, even as Burnitz’s eyes bore into him with that electric blue glare.
“Stellers, is it?” Burnitz demanded.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Thorn answered instantly. He was learning.
“I don’t recall seeing your pitiable attempt. Remove the hat from my head, recruit.”
Thorn bit back his first reply, then spoke. “I wanted to, ah…save up my energy for a legit try, sir.” A few of the recruits snorted uncontrollably at Thorn’s uncertainty and their own failures.
Burnitz grimaced back. “Not a fan of waiting. I like to get to the main event.” He tapped a finger on his rugged watch, indicating time was wasting.
Thorn was about to respond when a blast of seafoam light singed the hair at the top of his head.
“Remove the hat from my head, recruit.” Burnitz’s voice now filled the space between the trees.
Thorn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He chewed on his cheek and stood resilient, face placid.
“Oh, my mistake.” Burnitz began to turn forward again. “Thought you were a coward. You don’t have the fighter’s eye.” Burnitz gave him a look that slid away in disgust. “Or intellect, for that matter.”
The column of rage that boiled inside Thorn shot through every nerve in his body—a furnace of heat and energy that sizzled nerves into action before Thorn even knew what was happening. Without a thought, Thorn’s hands went up, wrapped in a malignant chorus of light, then he released it all in a single pulse of magical power that streaked forward faster than the eye could follow. The silent blast of dark, glittering energy had thrown Burnitz to the forest floor; his hat lay beside him in the dirt, curls of smoke rising from the seared fabric. Silence filled the empty space and the air burned with a sulfurous residue.
A harried breathing made the squad turn to see Narvez approaching from the rear. “Instructor Burnitz!”
“Lieutenant Narvez.” Burnitz bounced to his feet as if he hadn’t just been hit with the force of a truck.
“Which recruit?” Her inquisition was incomplete, but they all knew what she was asking.
Thorn stepped toward her before Burnitz could respond. “It was me, ma’am.”
Narvez turned to head back to the training field. “Follow me, Stellers.”
Still shocked at what he’d just produced, he fell in behind Narvez, his body gone cold with fear and uncertainty. He could hear Burnitz calling cadences as the rest of the recruits trotted on behind him.
Commander Schrader’s office was as cold as his skin was pale. Lieutenant Ashworth was already sitting in a high-back leather chair in the corner. Thorn sat in a state of rigid attention, more statue than recruit. His thoughts were simple—on the first day of training in the Magecorps, he was going to be discharged because his magic was too volatile for even the ON’s dark horse battalion. The Commander’s icy stare made Thorn hold his tongue for the moment while he sorted a response to the oncoming shitstorm.