Firian Rising

2. Firian

2

Firian

“Firian! Come down here!”

Firian jolted awake. Wiping the drool from his face, he ran out of his room.

He found his parents eating at the table with Brett. The room smelled like cabbage and cumin, which set his mouth watering. Mother gestured for him to sit down. Could he have dinner after all? That never happened once he was sent to his room. He glanced at Father, who regarded him with an undefinable emotion.

What’s going on?

“Something came for you today,” he said, edging a piece of paper across the table with a finger. His mouth pinched in what might have been a smile as he looked up from his meal.

Firian eyed them all as he took the note.

To Firian Kess, son of Yanon and Lithia Kess.

Firian shall come to the watchtower in Raewhith tomorrow afternoon. From there, he will be taken to the Tanyuin Academy to be tested for Ability. The presence of both Yanon and Lithia shall be required as well.

Sias Jairon

Tanyuin Head

Firian clutched the paper until it crumpled. Tested for the Academy. With his greatest dream in front of him, he felt suddenly terrified. This chance could be taken away as easily as it was given. His face went hot, then clammy. He looked up, barely breathing.

His family was all smiling—Brett biggest of all. She knew what this meant to him.

“You are going to be tested to become a Tanyu, Firian. Do you know what that means?” asked Father, matter-of-fact.

He nodded. It was everyone’s dream to live the exciting life of a Tanyuin warrior, someone who mattered. It was the highest honor that anyone could get, so it was no wonder that the boys who were not chosen—like Caedmon—were somber and moody when they had to face their friends.

Tanyu. The word tasted like adrenaline. Is it… possible?

“We’ll take you,” Father said, “but don’t get your hopes up. The Tanyu are warriors. Disciplined. Respected. They don’t take boys like you.”

Mother had tears in her eyes, happy despite his Father’s negativity. She rarely showed this much emotion. At least she believed a little in his chances.

“If” – Father scoffed the word – “they let you in, you’d have to leave everything.” He took a thoughtful bite of cabbage. Firian guessed he was weighing the merits of that idea. Father would lose a worker but also rid himself of a burden. Having a son in the Tanyuin Academy would also be a reason to be proud of Firian, maybe for the first time.

Father looked at Brett and Mother, giving them leave to speak.

“Oh, Firian!” Brett cried. “It’s wonderful. You could do what you’ve always wanted—fighting for us and flying and everyone, everyone in the Kingdom would love you…”

“Now Brett, darling, flying is only a rumor,” said Mother. “But this is amazing! Not everyone gets asked to come! They must think you’re very special.”

Firian nodded. “We’re going tomorrow, sir?”

“Of course,” Father answered. “Remember, not everyone gets chosen. But for some reason you got an invitation, so do everything you can to get in.”

Brett sniffed and kept clearing her throat. “It’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, Firian,” she said, a slight break in her voice. She wiped her shadowed eyes. “I hope they choose you.”

“We all do,” said Mother, holding Father’s hand on the table.

Firian could have said a thousand things as he walked to the watchtower with his parents, but he kept quiet, glancing occasionally at Father.

Had the watchtower always been so far?

No one knew anything about the Tanyuin arts, really, even though the others in trade school pretended to know sometimes. He grew up hearing vague stories of battles, flying, and other worlds he could reach only by closing his eyes. Sometimes he imagined that he was in a world like that, but those were just his games.

He closed his eyes to calm down. A Tanyu! The possibility was real!

Now he just needed to be brilliant enough, strong enough, and have the Talent. He had no idea how they would figure out those things, since he wasn’t sure exactly what the Talent was, but it didn’t matter. He would die if he had to go back to his schoolmates dejected like Caedmon.

He would pass, no matter what he had to do.

They turned a corner and the tall stone outpost slid slowly into view through the trees. Firian sucked in a breath.

The building grew as they approached, getting taller and taller. You? it laughed. But you’re that little boy who’s failing trade school. How can you hope to become a Tanyu if you can’t even do that?

Firian stuck out his chest as they came to the guard-flanked double doors. The walls seemed to loom not straight upward but over him as he passed through.

Even your parents like your sister better than they like you.

At that, his eyes stung, but only for a moment. He couldn’t have the Tanyu see him cry. After all, he was far too old to be crying over silly little things. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was already a Tanyu, the very best. He saw himself walking through the same corridor, except now it was filled with people, all giving him respect. They thought he was worth something. He smiled in his vision and nodded to the people right and left of him as they stopped going about their business to bow and touch their foreheads in admiration.

Then one older man looked up. Straight into his eyes. “Firian?” he asked, an amazed smile forming on his lips.

Firian’s eyes shot open and the vision fled. What was that? His imagination never talked back to him before. He had to calm down. He was far too nervous.

“Watch where you’re going,” said his father softly. The hard-edged sound of a voice connected to blood and flesh made him aware that he had strayed toward the left-hand wall.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, correcting his error.

A tall man in a long black coat stepped soundlessly out of the stairwell right in front of them. Mother jumped, her hand fluttering to her chest.

“Firian?” the man asked.

His deep voice resonated and the very word seemed to make Firian the best and most significant person in the room. The man’s features were severe, but his manner held something like kindness behind it. His eyes and skin were very dark, like a polished stone, both soft and hard. He wore a close-fitted black shirt and looser pants tucked into black boots. When he shifted his weight, Firian saw a sheathed knife on his belt. Even without the weapon, power seemed to flow around this deadly man.

A Tanyu. Firian would have smiled if he hadn’t been so nervous. All he managed was a nod.

Without another word, the man headed back up the narrow winding stairs, his boots barely making a sound. Firian followed, his parents trailing behind him. Up and up he climbed until they reached a room off to one side of a landing.

In the small room sat two black chairs and a desk with no one behind it. Wouldn’t it be fun to sit there… Wordlessly, the Tanyu strode to his seat behind the desk. He seemed more comfortable standing than sitting, but he still felt dangerous, sitting poised and ready to strike at the desk.

“Sit,” the man said to his parents, flicking his wrist carelessly toward the other chairs.

The man gave Firian courage simply by being in the same room. He was not afraid of his parents.

Father flexed his hand open and closed. No one ever told him what to do. Still, his parents obeyed and sat. A smile flickered over Firian’s face.

The Tanyu’s gaze shifted to him, and he remembered that this man had come for him. Would the man see through him? Judge him instantly?

“Firian,” he confirmed again.

He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

The man stared at him a moment before turning to his parents. “We don’t know how long the Test will take,” he said, turning to his parents, “and we do not know what effects it may produce in your son, nor the outcome.”

The blood drained from Firian’s head and hands. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“You must understand—many are chosen for testing, but very few actually succeed in advancing.”

Father’s lips pursed knowingly.

“I hope you have not planted false hopes in this boy. More than likely he will be sent home tonight or tomorrow. A messenger will bring him home when he is finished, or, if he passes, he will stay at the Academy. If he advances, you may not ask about him or try to contact him. Your failure to comply may have dangerous results.”

Firian shuddered. He realized he was holding his breath.

“Do you agree to these terms?”

His mother’s eyes shifted to his father nervously and even his father seemed surprised by the intensity of the terms. He shot a hard glance at Firian, and nodded.

“Yes or no?” the man asked sharply.

“Yes,” they replied, somewhat taken aback.

“Very well,” said the Tanyu. “Come with me.” He stood quickly and walked out of the room, not looking back to see if Firian followed.

“Goodbye, Firian,” his mother said, suddenly animated now that he was leaving. She reached for his scabbed hand and pulled him in for a hug. It was paper-light, as though she would break or anger him. Firian mostly felt impatience rather than love or sadness. When she pulled away, the flyaways around her face gave her the breathless look of someone returning from a fast wagon ride. Sadness and pride flickered like light and shadow in her eyes. The end result was confusion, as though she couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening.

Father stood and looked down at him, his light blue eyes narrowing. “Make sure you pass, son.” He put a strong hand on his mother’s arm to lead them out.

“Say goodbye to Brett for me,” he replied. Then he swiftly walked out of the room. His parents would not miss him. Brett would miss him though.

Once out the door, he couldn’t see the man. How could he fail already? Then—there!—he caught a ripple of black out of the corner of his eye and rushed after it down a hall on his right.

Never breaking his stride, the Tanyu looked back at him for a moment. “Quicker than most,” he said.

He couldn’t tell whether that was good or bad. The inflection offered no clue.

Questions boiled in his mind, but he kept silent as they walked, walked, walked down the hallway, upstairs, down a different set of stairs—seeming to get no place at all.

“Will your parents leave soon, boy?”

He jerked his head up. “Yes, sir. They’ve probably already left.” An oddly desolate feeling swept over him at the thought.

“Down the street by now?”

“Probably, sir.”

“Good. Precautions, you know.”

He didn’t know, but he didn’t ask. They took a sharp turn around a corner, down another winding staircase, and then out a side door into the open air. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been inside. He savored the breath of freshness in his lungs. It made him want to take off running.

They kept walking deeper into Esmeroth, the pine forest that surrounded Raewhith. The Tanyu led, swift and silent, and Firian followed.

Tree shadows began to lengthen. How much longer would it take to get there? If he asked, that might show weakness, and every move he made was important now. So he said nothing.

The little winding paths through the thick woods finally took them to a stream. The Tanyu halted and refilled a flask that had lain inside his coat. At a motion from the warrior, Firian drank some of the water out of cupped hands, not knowing how long it would be before he would get another drink. He had to keep up his strength for as long as possible. Still the man said nothing, but he seemed to be thinking hard about something.

Firian’s burning adrenaline began to cool inside him. He needed that adrenaline—it would help him focus. Maybe all of this was just part of the test. Could he keep up, keep going, not complain, do… something right?

The shadows deepened into pools of darkness and the sky grew dim. They only stopped once the trees turned black. The Tanyu didn’t make any sort of camp. “Only one night,” he explained, as he stretched himself out on the ground to sleep.

As Firian lay down at a respectful distance, rocks and sticks dug into his back. He twitched and rolled over. This side was a little more comfortable. Underneath him, something squirmed.

He shot to his feet, electrified with disgust, and stamped the place where he’d been lying. In a frenzy, he crushed the pine needles and dirt until he was sure nothing could have survived.

A single laugh made him remember the Tanyu, who had seen it all. Firian’s insides chilled with embarrassment and fear, but he thought he saw a slight smile on his dark face. At least he wasn’t angry. “Get some sleep,” the man said.

When Firian woke up the next morning, nothing looked familiar. The stream wasn’t there, and the pine trees looked taller. He shook himself and looked around, and still had no idea how he had gotten to this part of the forest. The sensation was like dizziness. “Where are we?” he asked the dark man, who had crouched down to get something out of his pack. His long black coat draped over the ground around his feet.

The man smiled grimly and tossed him some food, a piece of dried meat and a plum. Firian took and ate it gratefully as they began to walk again, but he still felt uneasy.

They walked through the fir trees for a very long time—into the afternoon.

Firian had started to wiggle his toes to stop his feet from aching when he caught a glimpse of a huge stone structure jutting out ahead of them. It filled the spaces between the pines; battlements rose dimly into the air.

The tree line stopped abruptly and the two of them came to a clearing. In front of them stood what looked like a castle, a barracks, a fortress without banners. The Academy. Even the building seemed proud. It had none of the airy quality of castles in pictures. This was rooted to the earth like a mountain. The walls, made of solid dark stone, looked as though they had been carved with a giant’s knife, sheer sides and massive rounded battlements. For such an enormous building, there weren’t many windows. Firian was glad they had come to it in daylight.

They hiked around the left side, which must have been the main entrance. The Tanyu tugged the iron handle, and the massive double doors swung open silently toward them.

The dark man gave Firian a knowing look as they entered. Firian could never tell anyone where the Academy really was, not his family, not his school friends… He gazed reverently at the worn wooden doors. Who else had touched them?

His mouth fell open as he looked inside. Men and women in black—many of them in their teens—walked around a massive indoor courtyard with a fountain in the middle. The high ceiling drew his eyes upward. A chandelier hung from an inverted dome high above, and a railed-in second story looked down at the open area. Most of the Tanyu in the courtyard walked with purpose, like his guide, but there didn’t seem to be a rule about where they were going. A couple girls sat on the lip of the fountain, talking. Overall, the atmosphere was hushed and business-like, as though they had better things to do than socialize.

Many of the Tanyu noticed Firian. It was no more than a piercing glance, but even that was something. They almost all looked severe, focused, but not aggressive—Firian knew the difference. Their eyes burned with so much awareness that he was sure they would remember him. He was only eleven and now Tanyuin warriors knew his face. He would make sure they knew more of it. One day he would be famous, even among them, maybe even feared. He stood taller and tried to walk stealthily like one of them. The dark man led him down a hallway off to the side.

“In here,” said the man, leading him through the last door at the end. The space was large with one long table in the middle of the room. Eight Tanyu sat around it. All of them looked at him intently. His throat closed tight.

The man closed the door behind him.

“Master Jairon,” he said, acknowledging the man at the head of the table.

Firian paled at the name. The Tanyuin Head.

Master Jairon looked a little familiar. He had short graying hair, now with an iron circle over it like some kind of crown. His face was more good-natured than the man who’d brought him, but, unlike his guide, there was not kindness beneath the surface, but someone precise and dangerous. “Thank you, Master Makai,” he said. “So this is Firian.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied. His voice sounded loud and high and empty.

“Firian,” Master Jairon said again, lowering his head confidentially as if trying to spark his memory.

Then Firian remembered. “You’re the man who—!” For fear of looking foolish, he allowed the statement to drift away. Better to be silent than ruin his chances.

“Who what, Firian?”

Hesitantly, he answered. “You were the man in my… imagination.”

The leader laughed and the others peered around at each other in muted astonishment. “Very good, boy! You’re right. I saw you there as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come, come!” he cried, not answering the question. “Sit down if you like.”

All of chairs had armrests, a small luxury for someone who grew up poor. He chose the most comfortable-looking one close to the door and sat down. His guide sat opposite him.

Master Jairon leaned back in his chair.

“It is an honor to get so far,” said a woman, who looked too young to have her short, wavy, white-gray hair.

“Quite an honor.”

Firian nodded wisely, laying his arms on the rests. He noticed as he looked around that the others all wore dark rings each with a pinpoint red stone.

There was a pause.

The dark man, Master Makai, spoke. “Do you know how many people have come into this room thinking they would succeed?” he asked in his low voice. “Nine hundred and sixty-one in the last five years alone. You make nine hundred and sixty-two. And do you know how many stayed? Hmm? Ninety-five—ten of them were eleven years old at the time.” He relaxed in his seat. “This age is beginning to lose the Talent, Firian. Years ago, there were many who were gifted enough to become warriors in the Tanyuin arts. Now there is a surprising lack.”

Firian listened attentively. He’d known his chances were slim; the odds didn’t deter him.

Master Jairon continued the explanation. “The Khelê founded the Tanyuin Academy when they were still new.”

Firian knew about strange-looking Khelê—no two alike, and they usually had tattoos as well. They visited Raewhith sometimes. The white-haired woman was probably one of them.

He continued. “We were a branch of the Exmorei. You’ve heard of the Exmorei? They were the Khelê elite. Religious at first. Then over time they broke into factions. The Tanyu were the stronger branch, appointed for defense.”

That sounded a little familiar. Exmorei… Wasn’t that a secret organization?

“The Tanyu are the only ones who test those who wish to join, who require Talent. The Amir care only for the Sacred Scroll, for study. They are still loyal only to the Western Kingdom, but we have broken free of those constraints and help anyone in need of our great strength. The Tanyuin Academy is the greatest lasting organization of the Exmorei in the world.”

There was a pause.

“Are you beginning to see what you’re trying to do, boy?” the dark man asked. “Only the best have even been allowed to see this building, much less be tested. People know who we are, but no one knows what we do for them. You don’t even know what we do.”

Firian’s stomach felt sour and he swallowed roughly. Master Jairon watched him closely. His face and neck felt hot.

The dark man continued, relentless. “Only the best. Only the best, Firian, get to know the secrets of the Tanyu. Every person who passes inspection must be deadly focused, extremely gifted, and willing to pledge their loyalty to the order. We are… almost like our own race. Not anyone can join us. Very few do—the chosen, you see. The best are usually trained for at least thirteen years. Are you able and willing to practice intensely, every day, until you are twenty-four years old?”

Twenty-four? That seemed very far away. But it still would be better than facing everyone at trade school again. At the end of those thirteen years, he would be a Tanyuin warrior. Yes, he could wait if he had to.

His guide watched him intently. Firian’s hands shook and he could hardly breathe, but he managed to keep his face still. A deep silence covered the room and he suddenly wondered if he was supposed to answer the question.

“You must realize that you’ll probably prove worthless like all the rest,” said a large blond man to his left before he could give his answer. “Can you live with that?”

Firian was about to say I already do, but someone else spoke first. “Tests have broken people’s minds before, boy.”

“So what chance do you think you have?” finished Master Makai.

No face seemed especially friendly toward him, not even the leader, so he found no comfort there. There was no Brett to look at him with sympathy. All the warriors waited for him to speak. He felt horribly unqualified to say anything, but he knew he had to. All the warriors were now silent, waiting for him to speak.

“I think I should take the test before I decide that,” Firian replied stoutly, dry-mouthed.

Master Jairon laughed. “And spirit too!” he cried suddenly. “Take him away!”

Immediately, the guide got up from his seat and jerked his head for Firian to follow. Again he was out the door following the man, bewildered. He could barely feel his legs as he hurried off.

Had they dismissed him without even testing him? His heart thumped fast and heavy in his chest. Before, he had learned to deal with failure, but not this time. This was his one chance to get away, to get out and become something great. If they denied him his only chance for freedom without even testing him…

It was not a long walk this time. They came out into the hall, then up a large, curved set of stairs that led to the second-story hallway he had seen from the courtyard. Doors lined the left side and a short railing closed them in on the right. Below, students still meandered around the indoor stone courtyard.

Misty tears started to fill his eyes before he remembered to stand up tall.

They stopped. The man produced a key and unlocked one of the rooms. Inside the very small chamber was a bunk on the left, a dresser on the right, and a window. Firian turned to the guide. “What is this?”

“This is your room. Congratulations. You passed the test.”