CHAPTER FIVE

Training Montage

“Get up, Number Two!” I said as I pulled my friend up from the wet ground. “Come on!”

It had been raining in the hour before dawn, and the mountain path we hiked across every morning was now a treacherous, slippery, road that was double the difficulty of most days — and those were usually pretty grueling already.

“Get up,” I urged, “or you won’t get breakfast again...”

Breakfast had become our lifeline for enduring the morning drills, and the thought of missing it was enough to push Number Two back on his feet. Although he was still slow as hell in getting back in line.

“Hey! Hey! We’re on our way,” the tall, tan-faced, skin-headed Sergeant Schmitt chanted.

“Hey! Hey! We train like hell every day,” the other kids chanted, although most of them were just mumbling along to our drill sergeant’s booming voice.

“I can’t hear you, rugrats!” Sergeant Schmitt yelled. “...To be strong and tough, the soldier’s way!”

“To fight our foes and make them pay!” I yelled, although my voice barely carried over to the front of the line.

“Louder!” Sergeant Schmitt ordered.

The others groaned but raised their voices anyway. “Hey! Hey! We’re on our way!”

Yep, it was as bad as it sounded. Sadly, this trek to the summit of Mt. Eigen was just the beginning of our daily drills.

Over the past year, the major and his cronies began training us in what he called, “The art of warfare.”

They took away our playroom and toys, replacing them with child-sized uniforms and a new classroom where we would learn more advanced magic. It was pretty much the ‘Hogwarts’ dream of my previous life’s childhood, but that was only in the afternoons. The mornings, well, let’s just say I gained a newfound appreciation for my bed which had become my refuge from the hellish physical training.

Number Two stumbled, and I caught him by the arm to keep him standing.

“You can do this.”

But I could see that he was faltering once more — and he wasn’t the only one. Number Seven and Number Eight were beginning to lag, and I couldn’t blame them for it. Six-and-a-half-year-olds may have sturdier bodies capable of an hour’s worth of vigorous aerobic activity, but we weren’t meant to jog the two miles it took to get to the top of Mt. Eigen, and then jog the extra two miles back down to the institute’s outer walls.

Even more frustrating, Major Heinrich expected us to do it all within two hours. Anyone who couldn’t didn’t get breakfast, and we all desperately needed that carb load-up for the rest of morning training.

Thankfully, I wasn’t alone in encouraging my crib mates. With the help of Number Three, Four, and Five, we kept the rest of our friends from falling on the wayside, ensuring that the seventeen of us would all reach the top of Mt. Eigen and back with two minutes to spare.

Yes, you heard right. Seventeen, that’s how many of us were left. The ‘Others’ as Major Heinrich liked to call them, had been cast away a few months ago. I didn’t know where, and I could only hope that they had been adopted by a nice family that didn’t demand their children be ready for war. The alternative, that they’d been left somewhere to fend for themselves or worse, was too heartbreaking to consider.

“You gonna eat that?” Number Seven, the buzz-cut kid with the pudgy face and the overly aggressive attitude, asked.

I glanced down at the half slice of bread I’d moved to the edge of my plate. I couldn’t eat it anymore as my insides were rumbling, which they often did after a hard run.

“You can have it...” I pushed my plate toward him. “I’m... full.”

“You can have these, too,” Number Three piped in.

She offered Number Seven her bowl of chopped vegetables. And this earned her a scowl from Number Four, who in the last year had become something of a group disciplinarian.

“You need to eat those, Three,” Number Four chided.

“Don’t want to,” Number Three complained. “Seven can have them.”

The girls began their usual roughhousing bit — pulling at each other’s blonde locks and poking each other in the ribs in a playful, endearing way — although they weren’t nearly as energetic as they were a year ago.

The training’s really gotten to them...

I could see it in the way their smiles barely reached the corners of their mouths. My crib mates — my family — were beginning to fray, and I honestly didn’t know how to help them because I was having just as hard a time as they did.

“If you don’t want it,” Number Five plucked Number Three’s bowl from the table, “then I’ll find a use for it.”

He brought the bowl over to one of the guards who watched over us — a guard whose love for veggies Number Five had discovered after he’d worn the man down with daily questions — and traded him the bowl for a thick bar of chocolate which Number Five then brought back to our table so he could split it with the rest of us.

Seriously, this kid’s a real lifesaver...

A bar of chocolate might not be enough to fill the stomachs of seventeen kids, but all our faces lit up at the nail-sized pieces he placed in our palms. Even this small piece livened us up, giving us that much-needed boost in spirit we required for what came next.

I high-fived Number Five as we got up from the table. “Nice one.”

“Don’t want you to lose before I beat you in sparring,” he grinned.

“Dream on,” I grinned back.

We high-fived before we joined the others who were filing out of the cafeteria.

1st Lieutenant Weber, Major Heinrich’s chief aide, that same blonde and green-eyed soldier I’d met back when I first opened my eyes, led our group from the cafeteria, past several similar-looking wooden-paneled corridors, through the expansive backyard, and then into the gymnasium where we’d once entertained the primarch and his cronies.

Inside the arena, we began the next portion of morning training; Arcane Meditation. It was the only part of our daily regimen where I could relax as our supervisor was none other than my old pal, Captain Wolf.

“I can hear you snoring, Number Eight,” Captain Wolf called. “It’s meditation. Not nap time.”

We all tried hard to hide our smiles because Major Heinrich didn’t like it when it looked like we were having a good time. In his words, “Pain and suffering are the foundations which will build you up into the future champions of the state!”

Honestly, I had to resist the urge to sock him in the head with a transfigured dagger every time he spouted nonsense like that.

Thankfully, Captain Wolf wasn’t as anal.

“I’m not a fan of this type of harsh training... it’ll only compromise you guys in the long run,” he’d admitted to me during one of our one-on-one lessons.

Although there was nothing Captain Wolf could do about it but give us a lighter time whenever he was in charge of our training.

“Clear your minds... And I mean blank slate, Number Seven, not whatever it is you’re thinking that’s making you drool,” he said.

Once more, we all found it difficult not to giggle out loud. It wouldn’t help if Major Heinrich — who watched us like a hawk from his perch in the stands — saw us acting like the kids we were supposed to be.

“Concentrate,” Captain Wolf urged.

At only age six, we were all pretty adept at harnessing the natural energy around us by using our sparks as an anchor. The sparks of magic streaking around our bodies like barely visible auras were something one rarely saw even among adult arcanists. At least that’s what Captain Wolf admitted to me after he first held class.

“With a focused mind, you’ll be able to gather even more natural energy into yourselves, but take care not to lose control and let the magic run wild.” Captain Wolf sighed immediately after he said this. “I just said not to let it run wild, Number Two.”

Despite his potential, Number Two was probably the least talented of our group because his magic often went and did things he didn’t intend for. Case in point, the sparks popping up around him that zapped the kids brave enough to sit on either side of him — me and Number Five.

They didn’t hurt much, just the light sting of a needle prick. But getting stung repeatedly made it harder to concentrate.

Combine Number Two’s inability to control his power with the fact that he was the weakest among us physically and he often got yelled at by Major Heinrich — which was happening right now.

“Why are you so incapable of managing the simplest tasks, Number Two?”

“I... I... I’m sorry, sir,” Number Two answered meekly.

“This is not how a future champion of the state is supposed to act.” Major Heinrich lowered his face so he could glare at the thin, frail boy whose shoulders shivered slightly. “Be exemplary, or be pruned like the rest of the rotten fruit.”

It was a pretty familiar scene to us now, although none of us laughed at Number Two’s expense. And the frowns plastered on our faces told the story of how we also felt the hurt he experienced.

Cut us some slack, man... we’re six-and-a-half, for fuck’s sake.

“You’re disrupting the class, Major,” Captain Wolf cut in.

Major Heinrich’s icy glare drifted over to Captain Wolf and remained there for a fraction of a second longer before his face morphed back into stern disapproval.

“A little more discipline in your class will do these children some good, Captain.”

It didn’t sound like a reprimand, more of a not-so-polite suggestion. No, even the major knew better than to get uppity with a war hero who was rising quickly up the ranks.

The meditation period ended all too soon, however, and we moved on to the next lesson; Arcane Combat — the bread and butter of one who sought to become an arcanist of the military.

“Come with me, Number One!” Number Three called.

Ignoring Number Five’s look of protest, she grabbed my hand and then dragged me to one of the rubber mats strewn across the arena’s hardwood floor. And although I gave Number Five a resigned shrug, I secretly preferred Number Three as a partner as I was pretty much the only one apart from Number Four who could endure her attacks without feeling like I’d been shoved face-first into the scariest river rapids ride on Aarde.

“Be gentle,” I whispered.

“Never,” she replied gleefully.

Yep, she was still pretty much the same adorable little monster she’d been since I first taught her about the spark.

Arcane combat... sure, it sounds dope, and hearing the words may give one the idea that a training montage was about to begin, but my adult brain found it challenging to even think of hurting these innocent six-year-olds. It was a future therapy bill I didn’t need.

It’s why I always fought defensively, and why I usually let my partner for the day win —except for Number Five, that is. Beating him in a match and then listening to him jokingly promise a comeback victory was one of the highlights of training.

Captain Wolf led this session too, although Major Heinrich and his cronies often walked between our mats to observe us. And they were always jotting down any noticeable mistakes that might earn us a reprimand later on. I’d actually lost my midday resting privileges because they noticed how often I lost a match, not that they realized I was doing it on purpose. I was always careful to show off before I lost.

“The goal today is to push your opponent out of the mat without touching them physically,” Captain Wolf explained. “You’ll earn demerits for any physical—”

“Hold a moment, Captain,” Major Heinrich interrupted.

Major Heinrich stood just by the outer edge of our group of mats, and he wasn’t alone.

The tall man had a well-built physique with muscles threatening to burst out of his all-black uniform. He had short, brushed-back, sandy hair, pale blue eyes over a hawkish nose, and thin, cruel-looking lips above a prominent jawline.

It took me a few seconds, but I eventually recognized him as the general who’d visited us along with the primarch back during the previous year’s inspection.

“General Hauser is here to visit, and he...” Major Heinrich gave the general a wary sideward glance, “...wanted to see how the children have improved over the past year.”

Standing shoulders straight and chest out, General Hauser had an impressive aura about him. And it was a wonder how I hadn’t noticed him before now.

“I want to see more action than simply pushing each other out of their mats, Captain,” General Hauser said in a booming, hearty voice. “Show me what these children can do.”

“Perhaps a display of their true combat potential would be more to your liking, sir,” Major Heinrich suggested.

“Agreed,” General Hauser nodded. “One by one, though. I’d like to witness each fight personally.”

Then he pointed a stubby finger at Number Two’s and Number Seven’s mat.

“I would also like to see that one,” his gaze was set on Number Two, “face your strongest student, major.

Oh, for fuck’s sake...

I knew what was coming next, and I could almost see the gears turning rapidly inside the major’s brain. Soon enough, he was dragging Number Two by the arm toward my mat — and that’s how the most painful moment of my second life began.