‘Get him!’ Fyn shouted as both boys fell to the ground.
Kellor rushed in and Annev pivoted, roundhouse-kicking him in the face. Kellor stumbled, blood gushing from his beak-like nose. He shook his head, trying to recover, while Brinden regained his feet.
Annev sprinted towards the building in front of him, ran up the wall and backflipped over Brinden’s charging form. As he arced down, he kicked the surprised avatar in the back of the head. Brinden stumbled, crashed head first into the stone wall, and dropped to the earth. Annev landed softly on his feet, knees bent and ready to strike.
A whirring sound drew his attention and he half turned to see a spinning projectile flying towards his face. Annev ducked, raising one arm to protect his head, and the kali stick glanced off the crest of his forearm, skittering across the dusty road as the second stick whirred towards him. Annev threw himself onto his stomach, narrowly dodging the spinning weapon, and realised too late it was a feint. Fyn pounced, a knee in Annev’s back forcing the air from his lungs. He coughed, pinned and unable to breathe.
As Annev struggled, the rest of Fyn’s gang gathered round, cheering as Fyn smashed Annev’s face into the hard-packed dirt. Stunned, he tasted dust and blood. He tried to writhe free, but was kicked into submission.
‘Take his other glove!’ Fyn bellowed.
Annev felt Myjun’s phoenix glove slip from his arm then heard Kellor laugh as he tossed it to Fyn.
‘Now you can touch dirt like the rest of us,’ Fyn snarled. They flipped him over and Fyn grabbed a handful of soil, jamming it into Annev’s mouth, forcing it down his throat. Annev swallowed some and choked on more, Fyn’s weight still pinning him down.
‘You like that?’ Fyn whispered, leaning close to Annev’s ear. ‘Now you know what it’s like. Unable to move. Unable to breathe.’ He moved his hand so that it covered Annev’s mouth and nose, cutting off what little air the boy had. Annev’s eyes went wild.
‘Now you know how it feels,’ Fyn said, eyes gleaming. ‘You’re not like the rest of us, Annev – you’re worse. You’re an acolyte. And tomorrow, when you and your friends fail the Test of Judgement, you’ll be stewards. You’re going to sleep in the Academy like everyone else, and instead of preaching every Seventhday, you’ll carry our laundry and scrub the garderobe.’
Annev choked, gagged and bucked, desperate to breathe. His vision dimmed and his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but he couldn’t free his limbs, and Fyn’s hand was like a vice on his mouth.
He’s killing me, Annev thought, the world darkening. I’m going to die here.
‘I could spare you the shame of becoming a steward,’ Fyn said, echoing Annev’s thoughts. ‘I could end you, right now.’ He tightened his grip as Annev struggled, watching Annev’s eyelids flutter closed. Then he leaned in close. ‘Or I could let you live. Then, when you become a steward and Myjun marries me, we can laugh about how special you thought you were.’
Myjun.
Annev’s blood surged at her name and the idea of her choosing Fyn, the eligible avatar, over Annev, a disgraced steward. His eyes bulged with a sudden fury, imagining that betrayal, and a tingling sensation ran up his left arm. He felt a distant part of his mind unlock.
With a tremendous burst of energy, Annev jerked his head from Fyn’s grasp, smashed the crest of his forehead into Fyn’s nose, and spat gritty mud into the avatar’s face. Stars flooded his vision as he yanked his right arm free and punched Jasper in the face. He struggled to pull his other arm free, but Brinden held him tight.
With a roar, Fyn slammed his fist into Annev’s cheekbone, splitting the skin and cracking his head back to the ground. Annev blinked, stunned, as Jasper pinned his right arm down once more. Fyn wrapped his meaty hands around Annev’s neck and began to squeeze.
‘I should kill you,’ the boy snarled, blood dribbling down his face, his chest heaving as he crushed Annev’s windpipe, ‘but if I did, I wouldn’t get to torture you. Every day. For the rest of your life.’ He let go and backhanded Annev across the face. Annev gasped, grateful for the blow, which granted him a breath of air.
Fyn snatched the fallen phoenix glove from the dirt. ‘I’m keeping this.’ He pressed his full weight against Annev’s stomach and chest. ‘I doubt Myjun will mind. Anyone who’s too weak to hold onto a gift like this doesn’t deserve it. Besides, stewards wear tan. Nothing but tan.’ He bounced roughly on Annev’s chest, making his ribs creak with pain, before getting to his feet.
Annev coughed and curled up, struggling to bring air back into his tortured lungs. He barely noticed as Fyn picked up his discarded kali sticks. The rest of the gang were jubilant, punching Fyn in the shoulder as they walked away.
‘Happy Regaleus!’ Jasper whooped.
Against his better judgement, against every instinct telling him to stay down, Annev slowly, stubbornly, got to his feet, watching Fyn walk off.
‘It bothers you because it’s true,’ he whispered.
The boys stopped, slowly turning in place. ‘What did you say?’ Fyn asked, his voice cold.
‘I’m better than you,’ Annev continued. ‘That’s why you’re so angry. I’m better than you.’ This time he raised his voice, shouting so that the whole village could hear. ‘I’m a better avatar, Fyn – and you know it! That’s why Myjun likes me. That’s why you can’t beat me in a straight fight without help. You’re afraid of me – and you should be!’
Jasper, Brinden and Kellor stared at Annev, mouths open, then looked to their leader. Fyn glared, his fists shaking with ill-concealed rage.
In spite of his pain, in spite of the insanity of what he had just done, Annev found himself grinning as Fyn’s fury poured from him in a primal scream. The boy charged, kali sticks held high overhead.
Annev met the attack head-on, stepping under and between two wild swings before Fyn crashed into him. The kali sticks fell as the two students rolled to the ground, grappling with each other.
Within seconds, the larger boy’s strength won out and he pinned Annev. He slammed his fist into the side of Annev’s head, then reached to choke him, but Annev was quicker and blocked Fyn’s attack with his right hand. The avatar latched onto Annev’s wrist and twisted his hand backward until it gave a sharp crack and Annev yelped in pain.
Fyn dropped Annev’s wrist. ‘Sorry,’ he growled, without a trace of apology. ‘It was an accident.’ He looked down at the bloody, muddy boy, snorted and stood up.
‘You better get that looked at, Annev. It’d be a shame if it kept you from competing in tomorrow’s test.’