“Commander Schrader, Thorn Stellers. Wixcombe arrived with this one yesterday.” Narvez’s hatchet-lined features went blank when speaking to the Commander.
“Bring Wixcombe to me as well, Lieutenant Narvez,” Schrader said.
“Aye, sir. Right away, sir.” Narvez hurried from the room.
Thorn stood in a cloud of uncertainty as Schrader and Ashworth sat, their eyes pinning him from two angles. After a few minutes, Narvez returned with Kira. Thorn turned his eyes toward her bright auburn hair as she brushed it neatly back away from her face and stood at attention.
“Commander Schrader,” Kira said.
“Wixcombe, what do you know of this recruit?” Schrader appeared genuinely curious, and Thorn’s nerves settled a bit at the Commander’s demeanor.
“Commander, sir, this is Thorn Stellers. I arrived at Code Nebula with him yesterday. I sought him out because I believe he will be a fine addition to the Magecorps, sir.” Kira never looked in Thorn’s direction as she addressed Schrader.
Schrader steepled his long, boney fingers. “And why do you believe that, Lieutenant?”
Kira dropped her eyes to the ground for a brief moment as she cleared her throat. Thorn could see that she was struggling with whether or not to reveal their connection.
“Stellers was…” She lifted her eyes and set her jaw with a new resolve. “Thorn was my brother at the Children’s Refugee Collective Home. He might be a little broken, but he’s a good man.”
“And you thought… what did you think, Lieutenant Wixcombe?” Commander Schrader stood and placed his fingertips against the desktop so that his knuckles bent like spider’s legs. “You thought you’d collect this boy you haven’t seen in more than a decade and bring him to Code Nebula without even holding him accountable to the trial first?”
Kira’s hair fell into her face, head dipping. “Aye, sir.”
Lieutenant Ashworth drew his breath in between his teeth. “Wixcombe, you know he must be held accountable to the trial. Why in hell would you expect to plant him directly into training without accountability protocols?”
Kira cast a glare toward the second in command. “Because I know this man. And I know what he is capable of. It may have been years ago, but he has passed the trial. A trial need only be given once.”
Schrader lifted a closed fist in the air, silencing the lieutenants immediately.
“Lieutenant Wixcombe is right, a trial need only be given once. If she says this trial has been passed, then we take her on her word.” Schrader left his cold stare on the olive-skinned man. “But all magic may become tainted through time without proper instruction. You”—his gaze moved to Kira—“have just run the risk of contaminating our entire fleet of new recruits with your carelessness.”
“Sir,” Kira began, but she was cut short when a single pointed finger was raised toward her.
“To your bunk, now, Lieutenant. Tomorrow you train with the recruits.” Schrader sat once more behind his mahogany desk.
“But Sir, I…” Kira started, but it was useless.
“Butts are for the stock of your rifle. They do not belong in my office.” The angular commander’s shadow grew against the wall and the strong bass of his voice resonated in their chests. “This man”—he pointed to Thorn—“needs to learn full control of his magic immediately. It may interest you to note that these people will be going to war with the Nyctus—and soon. You are taking that responsibility on yourself, Lieutenant. If the dog is not broken in a month’s time, you will join him on whichever slum-bucket you pulled him from.”
Kira’s eyes narrowed and Thorn could see the anger darkening her face, but she maintained her composure with some effort. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
With that, she turned and left.
“Now, Stellers. Is there any thought in your head of what it is you’ve produced?” Schrader turned his attention to Thorn.
“I don’t want to lie,” Thorn began but paused as he realized that even the truth was evasive. “I…felt it happening. Inside me, but I don’t know where the power came from. When we were kids, I did it so I could survive—my book from home was life to me. But as to a plan, no sir. I had none.”
“Yes.” Schrader sighed, his anger dissipating, if it had been real at all. “Magic is a reflection of our deepest thoughts and emotions. When you are so broken, your magic, though powerful, is broken as well. It will control you before you have control over it. That makes you a danger to every soldier stationed at this base. That makes you a danger in training, on the field, or anywhere else. Do not let your emotions drive your actions, for in battle that is a sure way to never return home. Use your emotions to fuel your intuitions, and then train your actions to harness that energy into a controlled force. The snake does not strike out of anger or hatred, he strikes out of necessity. And when he does, his venom is released in a carefully measured dose to neutralize the enemy and preserve himself. If the snake were to strike out of hatred, the dose would not be carefully measured, and so the snake would drain himself of his precious venom and commit himself to a deadly fate. Measure your venom, Stellers. Keep your satchel full.”
Thorn gave a cautious grin. “Got it. Be the snake. Channel the snake. Will do, sir.”
Schrader waved his hand in dismissal, and Thorn felt as though he could finally breathe as he hurried through the door to the fresh air beyond.
4
“Get those knees up.” Narvez’s heavy black boots created a trench of their own as she paced in the viscous semi-liquid that Thorn had become well acquainted with over the past few weeks. The suctioning sounds resonated as the recruits raised their knees chest high.
“Good,” Narvez murmured. “Tear them down. Then build them up.”
The only energy Thorn had left was spent tearing his feet from the mud that grasped onto his boots. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been running in place, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue to lift his legs. They felt full of lead, and a punishing heat suffused every inch of his body.
He faltered. Narvez saw. She saw everything.
Narvez came to an abrupt stop and turned on her heel to face them with a look of irritation. “Drop!”
The recruits obeyed, dropping to their stomachs in a ragged line, hands sinking into the putrid ground.
“Now push that ground away from you in half counts—Stellers, you’ll be particularly delighted at this exercise. It’s all of the pain your body can take, but you’re using whatever magical ability you can muster. Think of it as a little vacation from running, won’t you? Now! One-and-two-and-hoooollld it. Four counts.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” the troops called back at her. “One, two, three, four.”
“Now down. Half counts. One-and-two-and-hoooollld it. Four counts.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” The group response had already begun to lose its fervor.
“One, two, three, four.” Among the shouts were groans of pain and a muted sob. Magic was hard, even if you were gifted.
Narvez schooled her features into something that appeared neutral.