Chapter Eleven #2
It surprises me when I realise that he’s watching me as closely as I’m studying him, so it stands to reason that he’s at least been listening in this class and taking it seriously.
He suddenly strikes out with his left fist, and I move just in time to miss being hit by it.
A bubble of excitement fills me at the prospect of a proper fight.
I strike back quickly, knocking his head to the side and feeling impressed when he just shakes it off and instead of getting mad that he got hit like so many people tend to do, he just keeps his cool.
We exchange attacks for a while, both of us sticking to using only our fighting skills.
For me, it’s because if I use one gift in a combat situation, the others tend to want to come out and play too, and whereas usually I can hold them back, with my magic behaving oddly at the moment, I don’t want to risk it.
I’m not entirely sure why my opponent isn’t using his magic.
Either he likes to fight the traditional way, or his magic is not the kind that can be used in a combat situation which is entirely possible, but I’m guessing reasonably rare at the academy since our whole education is pretty much based around combat.
If that’s the case, it means he must have some mad fighting skills to get accepted, even if he has his parent’s money behind him.
I’m beyond curious, so I step it up, moving quicker and more precisely.
He blocks as many hits as he takes and lands a fair few on me, which is pretty fucking impressive.
I start to strike out with my right hand before changing my mind and bringing my leg up to kick out at his stomach.
I’m distracted momentarily as his previously dark green eyes flash white, signalling him as a seer and a pretty fucking powerful one if he can use his gift with such preciseness.
The distraction costs me, and I end up on my ass.
He grins down at me, clearly proud of himself, as he holds out his hand to help me back up.
I take it and return his smile as he lets go as soon as I’m standing, “It’s pretty impressive that you use your gift to predict your opponent's next moves.”
His grin broadens, “Thanks, I’m still working on it. You managed to get quite a few hits through.”
“Not as many as I normally would,” I reply honestly, “if you ever want to practice and help me learn to defend myself against your particular skill, let me know.”
“Sure, that would be great, actually. Everyone else tends to avoid me,” his smile never leaves his face, and I get the feeling that he’s more amused by that than hurt.
“Why?” I ask bluntly because, other than the guys, he’s the first person I’ve actually been remotely interested in talking to, and I’m curious.
“Because I come from poverty, I used my skills to get in here and not mummy and daddy’s fucking money. I’m here on a scholarship,” he answers defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at me.
“They’ll all be fucked if we actually have to go to war,” I shrug.
He blinks at me in shock for a moment, clearly expecting a different reply before that broad grin of his settles back on his face, and his posture relaxes again.
“I couldn’t agree, mo . . .” he stops midsentence and simply freezes.
I wait for him to finish his sentence, but his eyes cloud over white, and it becomes clear that he’s having a vision.
I step back slightly and wait. I’m used to witnessing Kill having his visions.
What I’m not used to though, is the sudden breeze that whips around him, lifting his shoulder-length silver hair and tangling it around him.
His feet slowly lift from the floor as the wind continues to circle him.
“Whoa,” I mutter in shock.
“Alright, everyone, step back. He’s having a vision!” The instructor yells, moving everyone back to their own spaces again.
“Fucking orphan freak,” someone mutters as they walk past me back to their mats and more people than not laugh at his comment.
Without looking in their direction, I send a thread of my air magic towards the voice and grin as I then hear the satisfying thud and grunt of someone landing on the hard on the floor.
“I saw that,” Mayhem says quietly as he comes to stand next to me, his arm brushing against mine, something that I shouldn’t be aware of as much as I am.
I simply smirk, choosing not to respond and feel the others move over to us.
The instructor glares at us but considering we’re the only ones currently looking out for the guy having a vision, he seems to let it slide.
In theory, his magic should protect him if someone tries to attack him while he is vulnerable but in reality, that can get a bit iffy, so it’s best to watch out for him.
Although they all do as they’re told and go back to sparring, most of them still shoot curious looks this way.
They may hold a certain level of disdain for him and think that he’s beneath them, but they’re still nosy fuckers.
“Is he okay?” I ask, glancing at Kill before my attention goes back to a still floating, white-eyed guy with his hair whipping around him in such a frenzy that he might actually have to shave his head to get the knots out.
“He should be. It looks like he’s having a pretty fucking severe one.”
“I’ve seen him get a vision in class before. Usually, his eyes just flash white, maybe a slight breeze, but nothing like this,” Loki adds with a frown.
The guy drops to the floor suddenly, landing hard on his knees, and the guys and I rush over to him to help him back up.
He lets us pull him to his feet, his hands shaking, and all of the colour drained from his face.
I’m hoping that’s from the toll the vision has taken on him and not because he’s seen something horrendous.
“Are you alright?” Kill asks, “That looked like a big one.”
He brushes his hair back from his face, his hand getting stuck in the tangles, and he gives up with a frown, his eyes darting everywhere like he’s still in the vision. “I, fuck,” he replies and then rushes towards the door.
“You can’t just leave!” The instructor yells after him, not bothering to ask if he’s okay.
“I need to see the Headmaster,” the guy yells back, not even pausing in his stride as he pushes his way through the door.
“Pretty big coincidence that Magnus warns us of the Head Seer calling all the royals to the palace, and then he has a vision like that and rushes to see the Headmaster,” Storm points out grimly.
“We could try and ask him what he saw?” Loki suggests.
“We could, but I doubt we’ll get anything out of him. We all know how secretive Seers are,” Reaper replies, shooting a glance at Kill.
“Speaking of, have you seen anything?” Rival asks Kill.
“You know I wouldn’t be able to tell you specifics even if I had, but no, I haven’t seen anything. Nothing that would mean the need to involve the royals.” He pauses for a second before continuing, “But the Fates may have deemed that this vision wasn’t one that was necessary for me to see.”
“Fair enough, I guess we can try to catch up with,” I frown, “shit, what’s his name? Do you guys know?”
Mayhem smirks, I’ve just spent most of the lesson fighting with this guy, and I don’t even know his name. Damn, my people skills are rusty.
“It’s Zev,” he answers me.
I nod like I knew it, and I was just testing them; judging from their amused looks, I don’t fool any of them, “Right, Zev. As I was saying, we could try and catch up with Zev and see if there’s anything he can tell us.”
“There’s no harm in trying. I want to talk to him anyway, he’s fucking strong, and I don’t understand why he’s been put in some of the lower level classes,” Reaper frowns.
“What do you mean? I didn’t realise you knew him?” Storm asks.
“I don’t, not really, but I’ve seen him around, and other than this class, he’s in the bottom set for almost everything. Just from his use of his gift fighting against Farren, I can tell that’s not right.”
“He said the other students have been giving him shit because he’s lowborn,” I sneer at the phrase, “is it possible that the teachers are doing it too?”
“They shouldn’t, but too many of them have forgotten the original purpose of this academy and now take bribes from various nobles, so it wouldn’t surprise me,” Reaper replies.
“Well, add it to the list of shit we need to talk to him about,” Storm grumbles.