School of Deaths (11 page)

Hann laughed and walked away.

“Try again,” said Billy. “You started well, but remember to guide with your left and swing from your right. The real scythe won’t let you make a false swing, it’s too smart.”

“Why not give her the beginner’s blade now?” asked Frank. “Show her the difference.”

“She’s not ready,” said Billy.

“She’s as ready as she’ll be,” said Frank. “Maybe if she learns how a blade responds she’ll understand why we’re being picky about how to hold the scythe.”

“But—”

“Billy, it’s Thursday. The test is Monday. I’m going to get the beginner’s blade.”

Billy nodded and Frank walked away. Across the room, Luc waved a massive scythe through the air. Frenchie smiled and then looked up at her. She looked away.

“Here you go,” said Frank. He held out a scythe, resting it on the ground. Suzie looked up at the immense blade.

“This is a beginner’s scythe?”

“Yup.”

The handle of the beginner’s scythe, a pole of polished black wood, stood six feet tall, rising well above her. A two-foot arc of silver extended from the top of the pole. A small red flag hung opposite from the blade.

“It’s enormous,” she said. “It’s bigger than I am.”

“It’s regulation,” said Frank. “Supposed to be bigger than you.”

“But, I can’t use that.”

“Suzie,” said Frank. “You can do this. You’re ready.”

“Go on,” said Billy. “Hold here, like I showed you on the trainer.”

Suzie counted down from the blade, placing her hands where she had practiced. Frank held the top of the pole.

“Little lower with the left,” said Billy. “Bigger pole, but same idea. Try holding higher with your right, and keep the left hand low.”

Frank let go, and she lifted the scythe on her own.

“It’s light,” she said.

“That’s the idea,” said Billy. “This blade is only ten percent mortamant. The rest is a light plastic. The pole is pure ash, but ’Mentals do something to take the weight away. Give it a try.”

The handle of the scythe was cool in her hands. The wood tingled as she moved it through the air, as if hiding some great power. She lifted the blade above her head and lowered with a hesitant swing. The blade caught on the air and jerked backward. She stumbled and dropped the scythe.

“Suzie,” said Hann, walking toward her with a snide grin. “I do trust you’ll take better care of our scythes.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, picking up the scythe. Hann chuckled, walking away.

“It’s okay,” said Billy.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You were too nervous,” said Frank. “The blade’s got enough mortamant to sense you, and to guide you. This scythe can’t cut through dimensions, but still has a will.”

“It’s metal and wood, the scythe can’t think.” Even while she spoke the words, the pole in her hands tingled in a different way. Was this scythe alive?

“It’s not alive,” said Frank, “but you still need to tell it what to do. The beginner’s blade will stop if you don’t swing right. A real scythe is even more delicate: any hesitation and it’ll stop, or bring you to the wrong place. Mastering scythes completely takes years of hard work.”

Suzie gritted her teeth and practiced during the rest of class. With each swing, the beginner’s scythe jerked out of her hands or stopped. Frank and Billy kept adjusting her hands and the way she swung, but she couldn’t get it. She glanced at Luc again. He swung his beginner’s scythe with ease, leaving a light trail of green light.

“The light’s what we need.” Billy sighed. He took the scythe from her, adjusted his hands, raised the blade, and swung. A trail of green light followed the scythe in an arc, lingering in the air for a minute.

“I’m trying,” she said.

“We’ll keep trying tomorrow,” said Frank. He took the scythe from Billy, who followed him toward the equipment lockers. Luc walked over.

“Don’t worry,” said Luc.

“What?”

“You’re a girl,” said Luc. “You’ll never do anything right.” He walked away, laughing.

Suzie dragged her feet leaving the class. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky. She heard a crow caw above her. People shoved by her, joining a crowd surging toward the boskery fields. Suzie didn’t see Frank or Billy.

“Hey,” said Jason, running toward her. “How was Applications?”

“Same as always, Frank and Billy spent the whole time teaching me to do something I couldn’t do.”

“Scythe trouble?”

“I can’t get it,” she said.

“Neither can I,” said Jason. “Everyone else got the green streak, but mine kept jerking at nothing.”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, and we have a test in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” asked Suzie. “Ours is Monday.”

“Monday? Man, I’m glad I’m not in your class.”

“I’m going to fail.”

“Suzie, even if you don’t get pass, you’ll keep trying. It’s one test. Remember, we’re only here a year.”

Suzie looked up and forced a smile. “I guess you’re right.”

They let the crowds pull them along, away from the buildings of the College, and through the Ring of Scythes. South of the Ring stood an immense stadium Suzie hadn’t noticed before. Jason led her through the crowds, past the stadium, and toward a small field surrounded by sparse trees.

Groups of boys stood in the center of the field talking. Frank and Billy stood near Frenchie at the edge of one of the groups.

“Any idea how this game is played?” Suzie asked.

“None,” said Jason.

“It’s not a game,” said a voice behind her. A short boy with beady eyes pressed his way next to her.

“I’m Karl,” he said. “I’m a third year, and you’re Susan Sarnio. Are your friends trying out?”

“Yeah,” said Suzie. “I don’t want any trouble,” she added.

“Don’t worry, I’m not one of the girl-haters. I feel sorry for you.”

“I didn’t ask to be here.”

“Neither did any of us, but here we are. Who are you here for?”

“My housemate,” she said, “and a friend.”

Billy, Frank, Frenchie, and two other Deaths separated from the main group and put on black padded suits. Jason pushed past some of the crowd to get a better view.

“How do they play?” asked Suzie.

“Four teams try to score points with a ball,” said Karl. He glanced at her and raised a bushy eyebrow. “But they won’t be doing that today. This will be pure scythe work, trying to pick the best players. I’m already on a team. This is mostly for second years or those who didn’t place last year. You used a scythe yet?”

“Sort of, but not successfully.”

“Well, a boskery blade is different from other blades. It’s a different blend of metal, different feel. I think the ’Mentals make ’em. Whatever they are, they’re some of the toughest scythe blades to wield.”

Frank and Billy emerged from the crowd and each picked up a scythe. But they weren’t normal scythes. Each boskery scythe had two enormous blades curving from either end of a single handle, like an enormous “S”. Frank spun the handle, and the blades whirled like a circle of steel. Billy swung his toward Frank, and Frank blocked one of Billy’s blades with his own.

“Those are the scythes?” asked Jason, turning back to her. He gave Karl a puzzled look.

“Yes,” said Karl. “The try-outs will be the captains trying to get past the newbies. If they can block long enough to stay on their feet, they’ll at least make the first cuts.”

The Deaths on the field formed lines. A stocky Death Suzie didn’t recognize went first. He swung the scythe in a circle, like Billy had done. As he swung, Frenchie and another tall Death ran toward him, swinging their blades. The boy blocked a few swings, before Frenchie’s blade hit him on the leg. The stocky Death collapsed on the ground without moving.

“Next,” said Frenchie.

“What did they do to him?” she demanded.

“He’ll be fine,” said Karl, “though he won’t make these cuts.”

Billy was next.

Suzie pushed her way through the crowd. What had happened to the first boy? His body still lay on the ground. Billy stepped over him, walking to a clear part of the field.

“Somebody help him,” she yelled. “He’s hurt.”

No one listened to her. The crowd roared for Billy. He raised his scythe and swung, forming a circle with the blades. He danced from side to side as the two Deaths charged him. The Death on the ground wasn’t breathing. Would that happen to Billy?

“Stop!” Suzie screamed. She broke through the crowd and ran onto the field. Karl and Jason tried to grab her, but she pushed past.

Everything seemed to freeze. Frenchie raised a hand and the Deaths stopped. Billy watched warily, still swinging his scythe. A moan escaped the body of the stocky Death, who rolled on the ground where he had collapsed.

“What’s this?” shouted Frenchie. He glared at her, his dark face flush with rage. “The damned bitch wants to stop the try-outs? Who told the slut to come onto the field?”

“Go back,” mouthed Billy, lowering his scythe. She glanced at Frank.

“Look at me when I’m talking,
girl
,” snapped the bully.

“Leave her alone,” said a voice in the crowd. Was it Karl?

“Who said that?”

No one responded, and every eye turned to her. Where were the teachers? Where was Sindril? The only adult around was Stevens, sleeping in the stands.

“That’s what I thought.” He snarled, motioning the other tall Death to come over and the two whispered to each other.

“He’s hurt,” said Suzie. “Someone wake Stevens. We need to help him.”

“Stay still, slut,” said Frenchie. “If you’re on the field, you must want to try out. Here.” He took the scythe away from Billy and handed it to her. Billy looked stunned. He wants to make the team; he won’t say anything because of that. The idea flitted into her head, but didn’t give her any comfort.

Suzie put her hands on the scythe. What choice did she have?

Be
strong
. The words reverberated like crystal, ringing in her head. Her body warmed with gentle flame. No one else had heard. In the back of her mind, a flash of fiery green eyes appeared for a moment.

She gripped the scythe, and tried to spin it like Billy. The handle was heavy in her hand, but the blades didn’t resist her the way the beginner’s blade had. In fact, the entire blade spun easier than she had expected.

Frenchie lifted his own double-bladed scythe, took one swing, and struck her leg.

Be
strong
. She heard the voice again, but far away, like a distant echo. The world exploded into pain. She saw nothing, sensed nothing. Her body fell to the ground, shriveled and useless, every muscle writhing in agony.

“Stop,” someone said. Bodies above her moved in slow motion, dancing through a fog. Was that Frank? Someone was fighting Frenchie. People were yelling. People were laughing.

Each beat of her heart brought new pain. Her blood poured through her veins like rivers of fire, burning their way through her enfeebled body.

Her corpse.

She had died. The Land of the Dead. People came here to die. Death was painful. And the noise.

“Suzie?”

She opened her eyes.

“You okay?” Frank held out a hand.

“What happened?”

“You got nicked by a boskery blade. They paralyze you for five minutes. It’ll hurt for a while, but the worst is over.”

“The try-outs?”

“Canceled,” said Billy, leaning down. His eye was blackened.

“Your eye.”

“At least I didn’t get bladed like Frenchie. He’s still down. All hell broke loose when Frank tried to stop him. We’ve both received an invite from the Gray Knights, a different team. The Dragon Seekers aren’t taking anyone.”

“I’m sorry I messed things up.” She groaned, trying to move her leg. Her skin was heavy, like it was covered with tar. Every inch of her body hurt.

“Stay still,” said Frank. “Go slow for now. You did us a favor. We’re both on a team and don’t have to play with that jerk.”

“Besides you made him look pretty bad,” said Billy, “like the idiot he is.”

“What is going on?” shouted a deep voice.

“It’s Hann,” said Frank.

“Great,
now
the teachers show up,” muttered Billy.

Suzie closed her eyes again. The world didn’t make sense, but at least Billy and Frank were happy. She floated down a river of pain. Her body ached but her heart beat with a new vigor. She was weak, she was alone, but she had friends.

She looked up through a strange haze of fire and shouting. Far above her, looking down, was a pair of glowing green eyes.

Be
strong
, the eyes seemed to say.

I’m
trying
, she whispered back.
I’m
trying
.

The Albino

Suzie awoke the next day with a splitting headache. Her legs moved slowly, and her entire body throbbed with pain. She stumbled into the kitchen and poured a glass of juice.

“I’ll get that,” said Billy. A dark circle ringed his eye. “Sit down, and try to go easy. You might want to skip your morning classes.”

“My leg,” she groaned.

“Getting your first boskery blade is tough,” he replied.

“Frenchie’s a jerk.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah, I guess he is. He wasn’t so bad last year, but seeing his brother here changed him.”

Jason yawned, sitting down with them.

“Hey Suzie,” said Jason. “How’re you doing?”

“I’ll live. Did you guys come straight here after the try-outs?”

“Had to,” said Jason. “Frank carried you. You were out cold.”

“Here,” said Billy, handing her some toast. “Eat and lie down. You’re allowed to stay here if you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“No, but you’re hurt. Same thing,” said Billy.

“When you play boskery, does it always hurt like that?” asked Suzie.

“Yes,” said Billy. “But once you’ve been bladed a few times your body gets used to it. First time’s always the worst. I could barely walk for a day and a half after my first time last year.”

“Last year,” said Suzie. “Were you sad when you… When you had to stay?”

“This place is my home now.” He paused. “Yes, I was sad. Jason and I should be getting to the Hall soon. Try to get some rest.”