Chapter 4 – Part 1 – Attack!
A burning pain in Anrui’s shoulder wrapped icy fingers around his chest and heaved him out of the calm warm river of his dreams, depositing him on the cool sweat-coated sheets of his bed. It took a moment for him to realize where he was; back in the real world, back at Lockwood. Unable to locate his sarong easily at hand – the washers must have been in again – he wrapped himself at the waist in his top sheet, the Regulator went to lean at his window sill, absently rubbing at the raw skin of his shoulder, the newly placed tattoo of an Arbiter aching sharply. The enchantments surrounding the mark weren’t supposed to take their toll for another three days, but that didn’t mean he was protected from sleeping on the raw skin of the tattoo. The promotion had come as a surprise, leading Anrui to feel there was something ill going on with the Regulators.
As usual, lessons were going well. Call stamina had improved among the Blackcards, and some had begun to learn how to Shape ice, fire, and other rudimentary substances from the Mist they now commanded. It wasn’t enough, however. Something left Anrui Frost feeling like there was just too much going on behind the scenes that he didn’t know about. Some of the students were beginning to stand out. This, too, was good, but again, there was that tingling in the back of Anrui’s neck.
A tingling like Antimagic being used somewhere close.
A cold, rushing sensation filled the Arbiter as he turned from the window, and he closed his eyes against it just as the first flashes of a Nullstorm ripped across the sympathetic field in the barracks, striving to shake the enchantments that coated most of the surfaces there. Far away, he could hear the sound of stone exploding – some of the inferior Athama bursting from the rapid loss of their magical charge, like jellyfish come up from the depths too fast. At his own bedside one of his oldest bangles, a honey calcite bracelet bearing a fragile water enchantment, popped and crackled, and it was all Anrui could do to hold the thing together under influence of will.
“Alarm!”
The scream was surreal, and it sent the Regulator out of his door and into the hallway with nothing on but his new, raw tattoo and the bed sheet tied around his waist. And the single Bangle he always wore about each wrist. The poor old calcite bracelet he had been trying to keep together splintered and exploded as soon as his attention left it.
“Come on, you lollygaggers!” The call was from Grale, the lone Moorish Regulator, who was ushering initiates out of their long rooms with a speed all his own. The Moorishman stopped in front of Anrui for a moment, long enough to flash a telling frown at the pale mage, before scuttling off again to claim his own Greencards from the ranks. Anrui bristled.
“Blackcards!” he boomed, raising a fist like a beacon. “To me! Lockwood Academy is under attack!”
Kintere and Rhayd were first out of the barracks, having been the last to enter most likely, after another round of drinking in the public house. Well enough they looked awake, and each had his Athama at the ready, even if their clothes did look somewhat dishevelled. Mireya was with them, keeping sharp pace behind the pair with her own Athama in its holster. Good, here at least was one group who knew how to work together.
Anrui beckoned the trio to him and streaked out from the barracks like an ivory arrow-shaft. In the quadrangle between barracks, practice halls and the armoury, dozens of blackened figures are already being engaged by the few students who were foolish enough to break curfew. The Regulator narrowed his eyes and hissed.
“Gault! It’s the Gault!” The man spun back momentarily, calling to his students, “They die just like men! Break them up and take them down! But if you see an enemy in mahogany, leave him for the Regulators! Do not engage the indigo ones!”
Some of the delinquent students were already down, leaving the dark assassins to break into pairs and spread out in the face of the entire barracks bearing down on them. Rhayd and Kintere were first into the fray, the smallish nobleman swinging his huge amethyst Athama as if it were a mundane sword, spewing flame from the blade as he went. Clearly, he had chosen his element of ease, which made Anrui proud even in the face of threat. Kintere, however, was bearing his two long iron rods like truncheons, bludgeoning the heads of those that came near him with vicious abandon. Behind the pair, that girl that followed them around was huddled, brow knotted, focusing on Rhayd. Perhaps shielding him – Anrui had not known she possessed such stern talent. That would have to be explored later on, when there was time.
“Emura,” Anrui bellowed, beckoning one of his three upperclassmen to him. “Get the cards, most of them are here. We’ve got to stay together – the Gault work better one on one.”
“I got it,” the black-maned student grinned. “They don’t like a mob, do they?”
“No chance,” Anrui agreed, retrieving a heavy club and a long knife from one dead invader. “Keep the young’uns together, we’ll get through this. Kintere! Rhayd!”
The tall tribesman paused, raising his brows at his tutor. Rhayd did not look back, but the girl broke her stare and looked at Anrui squarely, clearly not in her element.
“Keep out front, these bastards don’t seem to like you too much!”
The tall boy nodded, and continued forging ahead like a boulder rolling down a steep slope; relentless. The girl went back to her study of Rhayd’s back, as the young noble redoubled his efforts, coating his long sword in bright, flickering flame.