Sonia

Early morning, Nessa dragged Sonia through the Academy gates, apparently ignoring the stares as she pulled the legend-girl forward, breezing by a crowd of curiosity-stricken peers. A sense of awe floated in the air. Student and also staff stopped in their tracks to stare at the young girl who looked like any other Arrowan teenager. She wasn't what they expected. She was a girl, for one. Every artistic rendering of the Avem Child had always been a boy. There was nothing about her that their Grater Barren culture had taught them to admire. She was so obviously quiet. She wasn’t a warrior. She was pleasant looking, but nothing extraordinary. No hint of brilliance anywhere.

Grater Barren might be a just a scrap of what it had once been, but scrap or no, Barronites knew something about grandeur and exceptionalism.

A single bell chimed. Once. Twice. Three times. Students scrambled into formation. Brass horns blasted aloud from a tower north of the grounds. Cymbals crashed. Students leapt to attention in lines of perfect order. Nessa had stepped into line. She began waving madly for Sonia to do likewise.

Grater Barren’s anthem blared out into the school grounds.

Following the anthem, mornings at the Academy always began with a morning exercise routine in the field south of the sculpture garden.

Coach Axion Slate called out calisthenic drills which to Sonia’s relief, she could follow, she settled beside Nessa and kept her head down. The routine was rigorous, but Sonia had been used to physical exertion, and she followed, more or less in unison with the students around her. The exercise took the edge off her anxiety, and she sank into the rhythm.

After class, Coach Axon Slate took her aside. “We’ve asked Faal to show you the school. You know him, and he’s also a ranking White Tunic. He’ll help you get used to the Academy and make sure you don’t fall through any cracks. Stick with him, and he’ll take good care of you.”

Slate pulled Faal aside and whispered something in a low voice, but Sonia could hear his final words. “Behave yourself and keep out of the shadows, all right?”

She had no idea what what Slate meant by shadows, but she glanced up to meet Faal’s stare. He stared back, gave her a terse nod and the deal was done. Faal, not Nessa, would be the one to mediate Sonia’s first days at the Academy.

He dragged her by the elbow down the walk toward the main hall. “Let’s check out the bell tower first. You can see everything from up there, but we only have so much time before the next bell, so we have to hurry.”

Faal broke into a run, and Sonia was always ready to stretch her legs. They raced across the grounds to the clock tower. At its broad brick base, a set of stone steps switched back all the way to its very top. Sonia didn’t mean it to be a race up the stairs to the top of the tower, but Faal was a keen competitor and wasn’t about to lag behind. Very quickly, they had mounted 150 feet up to the top of the bell chamber.

At the top of the tower, Sonia gasped to see enormous bells the size of a small room hanging in the chamber. Bronze, copper, brass. A set of smaller silver bells in one corner of the tower.

“Grater Barren smith work. We’re sort of famed for it—or we would be, if the rest of the world knew about us,” Faal said, his chest still heaving.

“It’s something.”

“Look at campus below.” Faal turned about to the circular windows cut into the tower. From 150 feet up, they could see both the grounds and the entire city in the near distance, as well as the school below with its sight blinding copper dome and its four wings extending out like a compass. “The south wing is our wing—White Tunics. East is Green. West belongs to the Gold.”

Sonia glanced at the fourth wing. “Whose is in the north wing?”

“Nothing for us. North belongs to Gypsum and some of the faculty. It’s laboratory space, mostly.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“The General runs a laboratory?”

“Yeah. Secret stuff, mostly. Security is pretty tight. The General keeps it here for science faculty convenience. You see the gymnasium is the separate building off of the south wing, where we do a lot of physical training. From the way you ran up the stairs, I’d guess you’re not going to have any problem with it.”

Sonia glanced at her feet and Faal fell silent, drew an uneasy breath. “White tunics see a lot of each other. Meals. Training. Classes.” His gaze found hers and seemed to probe. “It’s kind of hard to keep secrets here.”

Sonia’s throat tightened. “I guess it is.”

“That’s kind of the way it is in Grater Barren. Close quarters. People everywhere. If you’re not used to it, it gets under your skin.”

Sonia forced a smile, but didn't answer.

Faal tipped his head. “Do you get a good look at the clock in the tower below?”

Sonia shook her head in denial. “It survived the fall into the abyss.”

Sonia started. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not Barronite technology, though. The clock was taken from an Arrow city during a military campaign.”

Sonia held her breath.

“Do you know any people who fought in that war?”

Sonia swallowed. Her mother seen combat then. “No. I mean—I guess some of my people must have fought in the past, but I don’t know anything about it.”

Faal’s eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t forget your people—especially the people who fought and died.”

Sonia shuddered, but let Faal’s judgment hang in the air unanswered.

“I’ll show you classroom’s after lunch, but right now you’ve got a meeting to get to. We should probably get back.”

Sonia blinked. “What meeting?”

Faal shoved a short, hand scrawled schedule under her nose. “You’ve got to see the shrink on the third floor of the south wing.” He pointed to the Academy doors. “Name’s Helstone. She’s supposed to be an expert in trauma and very good. Maybe she can help you remember your past.”

Sonia closed her eyes tightly. It seemed there really were no secrets in Grater Barren. She gave a last glance out of the window toward the Academy. No secrets for anyone outside of the north wing, maybe.

*

Administrators and staff occupied the third and highest floor of the Academy on the south wing Sonia wrapped her knuckle on a door marked with a metal plaque indicating psychiatry. Minutes later a Doctor Hellstone with a narrow face and long fingers ushered her into a seat. And there they sat observing each other for several nervous moments before the woman spoke. “Did you consent to an exam?”

“Do I have a choice?” Sonia asked.

“No.”

“Then of course, I consent,” Sonia said.

“Savvy.” Helstone grinned and Sonia got the sense that the woman’s expression was what her Green Guard training would call out of school. This Dr. Helstone was a wild card.

“Don’t worry, you’ll pass,” Dr. Helstone leaned forward in her chair. “I wanted to see you, and I had to push a little—the fact is, they were going to hand you off to my colleague, Dr. Moss, who I have only the barest professional respect for—please don’t repeat that. The point is, I’ve been so eager to meet you. You can’t even imagine.” At this point, tears pricked the corners of Dr. Helstone’s eyes.

Sonia started. “Are you all right?”

The woman wiped her eyes. “Barely, my dear. Barely,” she said, and gave a nervous smile. “You understand. We’re all trauma survivors in Grater Barren. It seems high irony that you should have to be evaluated by a coterie of psychiatrists, all of whom struggle in various stages of PTSD recovery themselves. That means a number of things, but it also means we’re too interested—too intensely obsessed with you because of what we’ve all been through ourselves. Let me say this up front—my door is always open to you for anything you want to talk about, but this is not a counseling session. I’m going to be selfish. I want to talk to you not as a counselor, but a mother who has lost her son, but who can never quit searching.”

Sonia started. “I’m very sorry.”

“My son was among the first group of refugees who left the city at the warnings of the prophetess.” She paused, and seemed to struggle to contain her emotion, “I loved my son. His name was Jule. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Sonia blinked. “No. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I knew it was unlikely.” She forced a slight smile. “He was blond like you are. And his eyes. You and he have the same eyes.”

Sonia’s hands flew to her eyes. “Everyone in Grater Barren has the same eyes.”

“In color, maybe. His were exactly like yours. Exactly the same shape.”

Sonia glanced away. “I don’t know.”

“I believe you. Do you remember your mother?”

“I—I, no. I don’t. She died when I was born.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. And I’m sorry I have to ask. I don't like to be selfish, but I wanted to push you a little. I have so many questions. We all do. And you must have a few answers. I sense you do.”

Sonia tried to control her breath, which was coming faster. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more—”

Dr. Helstone exhaled. “I understand, but I had to try. You also have the look of my younger daughter. She died when she was very young. Before the fall.”

Sonia looked desperately away from those hope-probing eyes, “I wish I could help you.”

“Don’t—I’m going to diagnose you with PTSD and memory loss. It will spare you the difficulty of being constantly questioned about your past, but you’ll need to come see me again after you’ve had a little more time to adjust. You’re also welcome to come and see me voluntarily. It might help.” Helstone held out a card of paper with her address printed upon it.

Sonia took it, hand trembling.

“I would be so happy if you would come.”

Sonia nodded and promised to visit, though she lied.