School of Deaths (18 page)

“Where’s Lord Coran?” she asked, after the procession passed. They would have to wait until the parade circled the entire College, before they could leave.

“Haven’t you heard?” asked Jason. “They say he’s starting to fade.”

“Fade?”

“He’s been a Death for over ninety years.”

Wait,” said Susan, “he did look old, but—”

“Michael, in my Applications class, said a Death faded last year, one of his teachers. They had a big ceremony like he died, and even wrote his name on some monument near the Examination Room.”

“I sort of remember Athanasius, the ’Mental who gave me my contract, mentioning this. He said it’s better to fade. If you get killed, you stop.”

“You
cease
,” said Jason. “That’s what they say. No one remembers, and you just vanish. If you fade, you go to…well, you’ve been to the wall of water and the big doors?”

“Yeah. They called it the Hereafter.”

“Whatever it is,” said Jason. “Maybe Deaths who
fade
end up on the other side of the doors. But Deaths who
cease
—”

“They stop. They never existed. Everyone forgets them.”

“Right,” said Jason.

Suzie realized something. “But wait a second,” she said. “Lovethar was a Death. A true Death. And she was killed. They keep telling us how she was executed for treason, but we remember her. She didn’t cease.”

“Maybe she wasn’t certified?”

“The pieces don’t add up,” said Suzie. “She was killed, but didn’t cease. We’d forget her completely, unless—”

“Unless she faded,” said Jason. “But the story about her—”

Some of the Deaths around them had grown quiet. Too quiet.

“Yeah, what a silly joke,” laughed Suzie, suddenly nervous. “When we get home I’ll tell you one of mine. It’s about two Deaths who walk into a bar.”

Jason gave her a strange look but stopped talking. This was dangerous. If Lovethar had been killed, no one would remember her, but everyone did. What happened a million years ago? Why was Lovethar’s death played out repeatedly in history books, and even in the Styxia parade? What was the connection, if any, to the ’Mentals? Whatever was going on, she’d need to talk to the others in private. She remembered Frank’s story about Cibran and shuddered.

“Are you cold?” asked Jason, who seemed happy to change the subject.

“It is a little chilly out here.”

“How about the ’Mental who set the Death on fire? Pretty neat effect, right?”

“Yes, pretty neat,” she said.
And
pretty
horrible
how
the
’
Mentals
were
in
chains
.
What was
happening here
?

“Reminded me of your part of the mural,” continued Jason. The Deaths near them were talking about other things, but Suzie remained watchful. Tension hung in the air.

“I’m glad we’re in Art together,” she said.
Keep
it
simple
,
keep
it
innocent
.

The chatter continued for another hour. She avoided mentioning Lovethar, Sindril, or even the ’Mentals. Several times, she found her thoughts drifting to Athanasius, the first ’Mental she’d met. It seemed a lifetime since she’d met the strange goat- man. Cronk had brought her to that in-between place and he’d given her the contract.

She blushed. She’d completely forgotten the cake. How much had she been through already? She reached into the pocket of her robe and found the small bag. She’d thought she might need it on her first day of school, but hadn’t had a piece since Widow’s Peak. She pulled out the pouch and looked at the cake. She broke off a small piece and popped some in her mouth. She had nothing to be frightened of now, no reason to indulge, but having a piece now made up for the times she hadn’t eaten. They’d thrown rocks at her, sliced her with a boskery blade, and even frightened her with the albino. She’d suffered through fiery visions, burning questions, and painful ridicule. She deserved a small bite of strength.

As the cake dissolved on her tongue, courage and comfort welled up inside her heart. She stood up straighter, unafraid to confront this World of Death and its mysteries; this world where even though she was alone, she’d finally made friends. She glanced at the pouch again. A single piece of cake remained. She folded the pouch carefully into her pocket.

“Sneak that from the Hall?” asked Jason. The horn blew, and they finally started to leave the parade route, heading back into the College.

“It was a gift,” she said.

“Oh?”

“From a friend.”

Boskery

Suzie looked down from the stands. A crowd of Deaths surrounded the circular boskery field, filling six enormous grandstands. More Deaths stood around the field itself. Chalk crossed the field, dividing it into four equal quarters, each a half-acre large. In the center, a smaller circle stood. A few trees dotted the field, and a small canal, shaped like a river, cut across three of the quadrants. A twelve-foot wooden tower stood at the edge of each quadrant, forming four distant points around the field’s perimeter. Ladders covered the sides of the towers, and a platform with a bucket stood atop each one.

The four boskery teams walked around the center of the field, each staying in their assigned quadrant. Suzie could hardly make out which team was which. The Gray Knights were in gray, in the nearest quadrant to her grandstand. The Dragon Seekers, wearing bright red were opposite; the orange-clad Widow Makers and blue Giant Tamers paced in the other quadrants.

“You understand the rules, right?” asked Jason, who’d been coming to the games.

“Sort of.” She glanced at the double-bladed boskery scythes in each player’s hand. With ten players on a team, eighty blades gleamed in the sunlight. She remembered the blade Frenchie had used to attack her during try-outs. The memory stung, even if the wound had healed.

“A referee will drop a ball into the center. That ten-yard wide circle in the center is no-man’s land, a free-for-all area. Each team has to try to get the ball out of that area and into the other team’s goals. If you get it in a tower other than yours, you get one point. If your team makes all three of the opposing goals at least once, you win automatically. If no one gets the other goals, the team with the most points after three hours wins.”

“All right, I get that. But why four teams at once?”

“To watch more players at one time; don’t forget that the older kids have to do this to prove their scythe mastery. Besides, having four teams at once is fun. Teams can join forces against other teams, as part of their strategy. Each team puts one player at the base of their tower. They’re like the goalie, they protect the tower. If no one scores and time runs out, or if time runs out and it’s a tie, the four Protectors face off in the center. The last one standing wins the game for their team.”

“Last one standing?”

“Boskery blades paralyze you for ten minutes if you get hit. Like what happened to you back at try-outs. That’s what makes the game tough. Every player has a double-bladed boskery scythe; one hit from any of them, and you’re down.”

“Those things hurt like hell,” she said.

“I’ve heard,” said Jason, “and one last rule. You can be in your quadrant or the center any time. After the whistle blows, you can only have four Deaths in an opposing quadrant at any time. That’s a big challenge, and I’ve watched a lot of penalties. When a player breaks that rule, they lose their scythe for ten minutes.”

“You mean they have to play without a way to defend themselves from the other blades?”

“Exactly.”

Suzie’s respect for Billy and Frank grew. This was a painful, difficult game. It might be required, but they’d still made it this far.

“Frank and Billy will be trying to score goals on the other towers?” she asked.

“Billy will. Frank’s the Protector.”

A whistle blew and the stands quieted. A referee wearing white and yellow rode to the center of the field atop a large white horse. Suzie recognized his dour expression. It was Hann. Other mounted referees stationed themselves around the massive field.

“Here we go,” said Jason.

The four teams readied their scythes. Suzie couldn’t tell who was who, but she saw the blades glinting, eager to strike. One player from each team moved toward their home tower. As he came closer, she recognized Frank. He looked nervous, though perhaps she only projected her own apprehension.

Hann yelled something she couldn’t hear and blew his whistle again. He tossed a large ball into the air and spurred his horse away. A group of players raced toward it, their blades whirling in a circular motion. One of the Giant Slayers fell to the ground, and a Widow Maker picked up the ball. Two Dragon Seekers darted forward, catching the Widow Maker between their blades. He fell with a scream, clutching his side. The Gray Knights started forward but fell back as four Dragon Seekers stormed into their quadrant. A fifth Dragon Seeker ran into the Knights’ quadrant followed by Widow Makers and Giant Slayers.

Hann rode over, blowing his whistle.

“A foul this early?” asked Suzie.

“It’s strange,” said Jason.

One Dragon Seeker waved at the crowd as he handed his scythe to Hann. One of the other players tossed the ball to him, and the group of five made their way into the quadrant. Six Knights started attacking, but a group of Widows and Giants struck back. In minutes, a dozen Deaths lay sprawled on the ground and the Dragons were running toward the Gray Knights’ tower.

Now the action was closer, and Suzie saw faces. Frenchie ran with the ball, holding no scythe. Two Dragon Seekers flanked him, another ran in front. A Widow spun his scythe behind Frenchie, but one of the Giants knocked him to the ground. Frank braced himself, spinning his boskery blade, as the group approached. Billy and two other Knights circled around, but a group of Giants and Widows were attacking each other. Frank leaped in the air, swung the blade, and a Dragon Seeker fell to the ground. Frenchie put a hand on a ladder. Frank spun around, but another Dragon had hidden himself on the other side of the tower. He cut Frank’s leg, opening a gash. Frank yelled and fell to the ground, clutching his leg. The Dragons flanked the ladder as Frenchie climbed.

Billy broke free from the melee but it was too late, Frenchie scaled the tower and tossed the ball into the bucket. Hann blew his whistle and everyone stopped. The players started back toward the center, looking suddenly tired. Fourteen stayed where they were on the field, still paralyzed.

“A point that soon,” said Jason. “That’s unusual, and a bad sign for us.”

“He got the penalty on purpose,” said Suzie. “That was planned.”

“I agree. They’ve come to win.”

Hann rode to the center, still holding Frenchie’s scythe. The paralyzed players, including Frank, hadn’t risen yet. Hann blew his whistle and tossed the ball into the air.

“We might have a chance here,” said Jason. “Frenchie’s still in penalty.”

Billy seemed to be thinking the same thing. He ignored the ball, and struck two Dragon Seekers down, running toward Frenchie. He spun the scythe, whirling the blades into a circle of silver. Frenchie ran away, tripped and fell. Billy snapped the scythe right onto Frenchie’s back.

“Yes,” yelled Suzie.

“No,” said Jason. “They’re distracted. This is bad.”

He was right. The Giants grabbed the ball, deep in Widow territory. The Widows had taken the heaviest toll from the first brawl, but now two of them staggered to their feet. The Gray Knights continued to attack the Dragons as the Giants stormed farther into the Widow quadrant. Two Widows ambushed the ball-carrier at the canal. He collapsed into the water, but managed to throw the ball to a teammate before he fell. Another Giant slashed one of the trees. A branch fell onto a Widow Maker, and the Giants walked to the tower. Only their Protector remained, against three of the Giant Slayers.

“Slayers. Slayers,” chanted a group in the stands.

The Protector spun his scythe, lunging toward the Giant with the ball. He tossed the ball to one of the other three, as the third nicked the Protector’s foot. The Protector fell to the ground and the Giants scored a goal. Hann blew his whistle and the Deaths started back toward the center.

“Slayers one to Seekers one,” said Suzie. “Knights aren’t on the board yet.”

“Maybe that’ll change, look at Billy.”

She followed Jason’s outstretched finger and looked at her friend. Billy stood on the far side of the field, huddled with two Widow Makers. “What’s he doing?” she asked.

“I’m guessing he’s trying to form an alliance. The two teams that are down, against the two leading teams.”

Hann dropped the ball in the center of the field. Frenchie still lay face down, and the others walked around him. A Giant grabbed the ball and tossed it to his teammate. Three Gray Knights converged, and tossed it to Billy. Billy threw the ball to a Widow.

“Did he throw the ball away?” asked Suzie.

“I don’t think it was an accident.”

The Widows withdrew into their own quadrant, where all of their players ran. As they approached their goal, the Widow Protector tossed the ball to Billy, who grabbed it, leaped onto the ladder, and scored an easy goal.

“Knights will probably do the same thing in reverse now,” said Jason. “They’re trying to even the score.”

Frenchie rose as Hann dropped the ball. He took his scythe back from Hann and started running. Dragon Seekers and Giant Tamers shouted to each other. The Knights withdrew to their quadrant, with a small group of Widows, but the play didn’t go as planned. Seven of the Dragons, followed by seven of the Giants, stormed into the quadrant. Hann rode after them, but three players from each team dropped their scythes and kept running.

Billy turned around, holding the ball, frowning with confusion. He started to throw to one of the Widows, but the scythed Giants and Dragons were too many, they mowed down the Widows and half of the Knights. Billy broke into a run, toward the empty Giant Tamers’ quadrant. A pack of Deaths sprinted after him. Frank shouted something to the team. Four other Gray Knights ran after Billy. Hann rode over, carrying a pile of boskery scythes. He took one of the scythes from a Knight, but the remaining three ran into the crowd of still unarmed Dragons and Giants. Many fell. Billy reached the Giant’s tower, held the ball in one hand, and swung his scythe. It hit the Protector on the foot and he went down. Billy scaled the tower and scored.