Page 15 of Phixmery

His voice is as smooth as honey as he addresses us for the first time. “Cadets, I have two rules. My word is law: if I say jump, you jump; if you don’t, well, we have permission to punish you any way we please until you’re obedient little soldiers. That includes any regular punishment or maybe something more…creative.The second rule is: unless you’re dead, you don’t have an excuse to not perform any task we require. Do I make myself clear?”

We answer with a resounding, “Yes, Sir.”

“You will address me as Sergeant Craven. This male to my left is Sergeant Driscol.” He gestures to the giant male, and then to the red-haired male to his right. “Sergeant Verlice.” And then to the female and male behind him. “And these are Sergeants Hemming and Featherington.”

He places his hands on his tapered waist. “We are going to start with hand-to-hand combat. No magick, as I want to see what we are working with and how hard you’re going to make my life this year.” He and his wing begin moving across the training yard, and I glance at Rozen and Ember who shrug as we hurriedly follow behind them with the rest of our squad.

Nerves take root in my stomach. I just know this is going to be catastrophic for me. We arrive at a sand pit, a massive area that has been magically cleared of snow, and the ten of us gather around while Craven’s wing waits impatiently in the center for us.

“You and you.” Sergeant Craven gestures blindly at two of our squad members. “In the center and give me your names and magick type,” he grunts and then strides off to the side with the others. “Oh, and a reminder to Vopn Fö, keep your magick in check. You’re not permitted to use the advanced boost you get in combat.”

A few groans go up around the arena but I let out a breath of relief. At least that’s something I don’t need to worry about. I’ve never seen a Vopn Fö in action, but I’ve heard stories about how formidable they are from my father. I blink in surprise, trying to recall the details of the memory, but it slips my grasp, so I try to focus again on the task at hand.

Two males enter the ring and nod at each other. The taller of the two has deep purple eyes and long, brown hair tied neatly in a ponytail at the base of his neck. His hair is tucked behind the points of his ears and his slim face is set with determination. “I’m Cadet Bren Hayes, Szellemi,” he states firmly.

The other male is slightly shorter but has the same slim build—the one I’ve noticed trying to get away with sneaking in line for extra food—but has long blonde hair that’s tipped with a blue that the early morning sun brings out. He glances around the arena and his neon blue eyes are lit with amusement before he turns back to the wing leader. “Lennox Adair.” He winks at the female, Sergeant Hemming. “And I’m a water Elemi.”

The wink earns a glare from the Sergeant and a growl from the males in her wing before Sergeant Verlice hisses out the order to begin.

Hayes and Adair are instantly at each other in a flurry of punches and kicks, although Adair seems to be able to dodge more swiftly, reminding me of how fluid his element is. The air is thick with the scent of adrenaline and it’s contagious as others begin cheering them on. I watch with a small grin on my face. Maybe this lesson won’t be as bad as I’d thought it would be.

I scratch my sternum down along my stomach again. Maybe it’s the cleaning solution for my clothing?

My eyes drag back over to the wing leader and his two companions, but what I don’t expect is Sergeant Verlice staring at me with a furrowed brow, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he rubs the upper side of his thigh. My cheeks flame and my eyes snap back to the fight in front of me. It’s the most uncomfortable feeling, being caught looking at someone, but it doesn’t seem to faze him one bit as I feel his gaze drilling into the side of my head like he can see what’s in there. I hate this feeling they are inciting in me, this urge to challenge the three of them but to submit.

I brush it off because they are powerful males in their own right, but something primal within me tugs, and I do everything in my power to suppress the annoying feeling, instead opting to watch them out of the corner of my eyes.

They’re dangerous, that’s why I can’t keep my eyes off them. A survival instinct.

The sparring match comes to an end with Adair as the victor, and Craven gestures to two more silently before crossing his arms, brooding and waiting. This time a male and female enter the center and introduce themselves.

The female has dark red hair, woven into intricate plaits along her scalp and adorned with wooden beading. All the strands are tied back into a high bun with not a loose strand to be seen. Her tanned skin is decorated with silver scarring, much like the giant in Craven’s wing. “Zoela Spade, Vopn Fö,” her lyrical voice announces succinctly.

“Gregor Ellis, also Vopn Fö,” the male growls out as he flexes his fists with a scowl etched into his face, his yellow eyes narrowed on the lithe female in front of him, waiting for the order to begin.

At Craven’s cue they begin. Spade uses her smaller and quicker frame to weave around him and dodge his attacks, which only seems to anger Ellis. Something I’ve noticed since being here at Phixmery is that you can tell who’s Vopn Fö because they seem to carry themselves with indifferent anger, always ready to use their magick at the drop of a hat, and these two are constantly bickering with each other.

“Keep your magick at bay, Cadet Ellis, or your squad will be cleaning my dragon’s teeth after his dinner tonight,” Driscol snaps, and the charge that was in the air dissipates.

Ellis crouches and takes a breath and it seems almost physically painful, but Spade uses that opening to swing her leg, her boot connecting with his temple with a resounding thud. He falls to the ground completely unconscious while Spade stands over him with a smug grin before moving to the outskirts of the ring next to Evera, and they titter and laugh together.

Craven shakes his head at the male sprawled in the sand. “Hayes, Adair, move him out of the ring and then you two next.” He gestures to Evera and myself.

My mouth instantly dries up as I move on shaky legs to the center.

“You got this Ravina!” Rozen encourages.

I give him a shaky smile and shake out my sore limbs a bit before turning to Wing One and addressing Craven but not meeting his or the others gaze. “Ravina Solace, Fire Elemi.” And I’m thanking the fates that my voice doesn’t give away my nerves that are making my stomach cramp.

Unable to resist the urge, I meet Craven’s gaze full on and I vaguely hear Evera introduce herself as a fire and earth Elemi, but it doesn’t matter to me. For some unknown reason I take an unconscious step towards him. I’m taken back a bit and not prepared when he cues the fight, breaking our eye contact. I whip towards Evera and just manage to evade her right hook but manage to fall on my ass.

“Are you sure you’re a fire Elemi?” she sneers. “Cresida said you were a null, and I’m really starting to think she’s right if this is the way you fight.”

She throws another punch, hitting me in the face as I stand and stumble back, although this time staying on my feet, shockingly, and I feel a strange pressure in my head but I just brush it off as a side effect of being punched.

This time though, when she gets in close enough, I ball my hand and swing up towards her face, but my attack bounces off her forearm and she swings for my gut, knocking the wind from my lungs. Before I can even recover, Evera flips her black hair over her shoulder and smirks, and the last thing I see before darkness takes over is her fist flying towards my face.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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