Ashes And Bones - Chapter 2 Of Our Pas

Chen poked at the bland food on his plate with his utensils quietly. Seated across from him, Xiang was going off on one of his tangents. He lost track of the many concerns his friend had. It could be about the continuous drills, complaining about their tasteless meals, or the restriction of leaving the academy walls without the authority of the council. His particular favourite topic was his theory as to why they weren’t to instigate their own investigations.

Even Chen found it odd, but he dared not question it. There had to be a reason for it. There just had to be. Was it really because they weren’t ready? He lowered his hand down and gently drummed his finger against the wooden table. That excuse could only work for so long, he thought to himself. When would they be ready if not now?

“Hey? Are you even listening to me?” Xiang interrupted his thoughts.

“Huh?” he tilted his head up in confusion.

“No, of course not,” his friend said rolling his eyes with a sigh, “Can you pay attention? I was asking you what you thought of that new kid?”

“Am I supposed to have an opinion on him? This early?” Chen countered.

“It’s weird,” Xiang protested, “No one, I repeat ‘no one’, enters the academy past the age of seven. Since when does the board accept new students into ”

“He arrived with a council member,” Chen interrupted, “That suggests that it wasn’t the board’s decision. Even so, I’ve never heard of another academy before. And if he’s been placed in Class A, he can’t be a novice.”

“Where else would he have come from? There’d have to be another school somewhere. He must have some formal training.” It did make sense if there was another school, Chen thought. Yet, he couldn’t rake his mind of another name.

Turning his head to the side, he glanced across the rows of tables, his eyes easily finding the fair-haired boy amongst the other students. Since the class, he had changed into his training attire. He now sat silently alone, his elbows gently resting on the edge of the table as his eyes flickered across the layout of the dining hall.

Chen couldn’t decipher if it was an interest or something else entirely. He couldn’t remember the first time he had set foot in the hall. He couldn’t even recall the first time he entered through the wire gates. The first distinctive memory he had, was the moment he had met Xiang.

Xiang had been sitting in the courtyard, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around his skinny legs. His clothes were patched and his hair messy and littered with dust. A solemn expression was on his face as he sat on the fountain’s barrier.

The sky had set and lit by the warm glow of the sun. There was a warm breeze running through the greenery, carrying the smell of honeysuckles. The honey, fruitlike smell was carried in the wind and over the years had grown to be a familiar scent. While Chen had welcomed it, Xiang appeared to be wrapped in his own world.

Chen was faced with the dilemma of ignoring or approaching him. At the time, he didn’t know why, but he had walked forward, his hands resting down by his side as he walked up to the young boy, casting a shadow over his slender frame. The boy hadn’t even moved.

“Excuse me?” Chen had spoken, breaking the silence that hovered over them. There had been no reaction. He had resorted to another method; that method being poking the boy. “Excuse me?”

“What do you want?” he had snapped.

“It’s getting late; you shouldn’t be out here,” Chen informed. He remembered how Xiang had huffed in response, still refusing to look at him.

“What do you care?” he had attempted to then swat him away with one dust-covered hand. Dirt and grim was captured beneath his short nails. “Leave me alone.”

“Are you new?” Chen proceeded to further question the boy.

“So, what if I am?” the stranger had mumbled. Sighing, Chen had turned around to leave. He’d assumed that he didn’t want to speak. He could understand that. Many of the students who came were homesick. It didn’t last long though.

“I guess, you miss your family,” Chen had paused, “But this is for our families.” He stole a glance over his shoulder. The boy sitting on the edge of the fountain had turned his head towards him. The first thing that had caught him off guard was the fact that the boy had two different eye colours. The second was what he uttered next.

“My family is dead,” was all he said. “If I was meant to protect them, I didn’t do a good job.”

“Chen!” Xiang’s present voice shook Chen from his thoughts. He peered up at his friend, staring at him dumbfounded. “You looked like you were lost in thought. What were you thinking about?” Xiang had an eyebrow raised mischievously. The corners of his lips were tilted up in amusement as he leaned forward.

“Nothing,” Chen dismissed, shaking his head.

“Liar,” Xiang laughed. He folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his tongue in thought. “I know you Liu Chen. Come on, out with it.”

Allowing his gaze to shift once more to the new student, he came to see that the table was now empty. He shifted slightly, inspecting the area, but quickly realised that he was nowhere in sight. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly returned to his conversation with his friend.

“Just thinking,” he started, “About when were first met one another. Yijun has joined at a much older age. We grew up together.”

“I suppose we were really young, huh?” Xiang licked his lower lip. “I was a jerk back then.”

“You’d just lost your parents,” Chen spoke slowly, careful of where he trod. “I mean, it was understandable that you were upset and angry.”

“You know,” Xiang’s voice softened, “I don’t actually remember that much of my parents. I think I had a sister. Maybe. I remember faces and feelings, but no actual memories.” Xiang leaned back, propping one arm on the back of his chair. “That’s not really true; I remember the fire.”

Chen knew the fire that Xiang was talking about. It had taken a while before he had told him anything. When Xiang had first told Chen about the fire, he had found Xiang, soon after his thirteenth birthday, in the target practise zone.

Arrow after arrow had been sailing through the air to sink deeply into the target set across from them. He didn’t know how long Xiang had been in the training room, but he had only assumed it had been a substantial amount of time due to the fact that his arms were quivering each time he pulled the arrow back in the bowstring. His muscles were tense and beads of sweat were matting his hair against his forehead.

The arrow he released had sailed over the target, missing it completely and scattered across the floor. Without any care, Xiang had thrown then the bow to the ground and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. A scarlet shade was dusted across his cheeks and had become apparent he was not wearing the safety equipment.

“You alright?” Chen had approached him. Xiang kicked the toe of his boot at the upper limb.

“Stupid thing,” Xiang muttered. He bent down, grasped the grip and hurled the bow harshly across the floor. “What is it good for?” the question had been rhetorical. Their surroundings had been still for a moment. Nothing moved. The particles, floating in the air all but hovered where they were. It was a few minutes before anyone had uttered another word. And by that point, the two boys were sitting on the ground.

“Want to talk about what’s going on?” Chen murmured, his arms loosely placed on his knees.

“A council member approached me today,” Xiang had started. “I’m allowed to begin field work now. He was congratulating me; said it was my duty and that I would be making my family proud.”

“They would be,” Chen uttered.

“I know. And I’m going to make sure their death wasn’t meaningless,” Xiang had vowed. “It was because of a mage that they had died. Them and a dozen other civilians. They were trapped in the church and burned.”

“Xiang ”

“The guardians caught him though,” Xiang had persisted. “He received the punishment befitted for him. But even though he is gone, he stole my parents from me. How am I supposed to make them proud if they’re dead?”

That had been a question Chen still couldn’t answer. How was he supposed to make them proud of they weren’t physically there? They couldn’t be proud of anything if they were dead. He couldn’t say anything though, it would do more harm than good.

“Hey come on, we’ve got to get changed,” Xiang said suddenly, standing up from the table. Following suit, Chen relinquished his cutlery unhurriedly and began clearing his station before exiting the dining hall.

Their afternoon was dedicated to training despite the gloomy weather. Rain would spit from the sky as they ran. The wind stung Chen’s cheeks and the icy air burned his lungs. His blood pumped through his body, causing a pinkness to touch his cheeks. He had since lost track of where Xiang was, the boy had fallen behind moments beforehand.

A figure unexpectedly darted past him, the silver coloured hair unmistakable. Yijun was composed, barely panting as he continued at his consistent pace. Chen wasn’t given much time to take in the surprise before he had finished the lap. Students trickled in behind him, misty breath filling the air. The ones who had finished were stretching out their limbs while waiting for the remaining stragglers to finish.

“I hate laps,” Xiang puffed by his side. The mahogany haired boy was stretching his arms behind his head. His golden topaz eye was hidden beneath loose strands of his hair, leaving his chocolate brown eye exposed.

“You hate everything,” Chen uttered, bitterness lacing his tone. His eyes were narrowed, glued to the back of Yijun’s head.

“That’s not true,” Xiang tilted his head back, stretching his hands to the sky. “I must like you if I keep hanging around you.”

“That’s very comforting,” Chen responded in a monotonous voice. The boy dropped his arms down by his side and like the rest of the class, filed indoors for the rest of their training.

‘Simple training’ was not as simple as it sounded. And by no means was it any less energy draining. It consisted of a lot of course work and activities that tested their endurance. The air was sticky with the scent of sweat and echoed with the sound of grunting and heavy breathing. On top of it all, their trainer was hollering orders and degrading insults at them.

There were the rare instances where he would actually compliment someone; Chen was normally on the receiving end of that. However, to his surprise, their trainer hadn’t so much as glanced in Chen’s direction. Instead, his eyes were focused on Yijun as he all but danced around his partner, evading each attack. It was then Chen came to realise the new student certainly was experienced.

His reflexed were incredible; his partner was unable to lay so much as a finger on him. Red-faced, Yijun’s opponent rounded his weapon, towards Yijun who lifted his arm, thrusting it to the side without a sign of struggle. The other student stumbled, his ankle giving way and landed on the mat. Yet, that did little to stop him from scrambling to his feet, all the while resting the majority of his weight on one foot.

“That’s enough,” called their instructor, “Liu Chen, where are you my boy?” At least Chen hadn’t lost the fondness his trainer had for him. His chest seized at the sudden unfamiliar idea that someone else would gain his approval. A selfish thought.

He stepped forward, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. His eyes darkened as they looked up at the boy. Yijun’s face, however, held a softness. His silver hair stuck to his forehead, but his muscles were relaxed. He was eerily calm. Chen didn’t know what to make of it. It was as though Yijun was in a world of his own.

“Perhaps you will be a better match for Mister Zhou,” he stated, walking in Chen’s direction. He felt the older male’s shoulder brush against his own. “Don’t disappoint me.” His voice was low and harsh. Chen felt like he had been shoved forward into action, drawing out his weapon.

He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t worried about Yijun. Nor was he intimidated by him. Their coaches voice was nothing but muffled noise as he permitted them to commence their battle. Chen’s feet left the floor with only one objective in mind. But nothing could prepare him for the drastic change of Yijun’s style. No longer was the defensive, now he instigated the attacks.

He was fast, Chen thought. His eyes darted across space, catching short glimpses of silver hair. His grip tightened on his weapon. Left. Chen spun his blade around, allowing it to collide with Yijun’s. The new boy didn’t stay long in the position, opting for another attack. Down. The blade winked in the light, prompting Chen to move back.

Yijun was kneeling down, the sword an extended attachment of his arm. There was a mischievous glint in his green eyes that taunted Chen. The dark-haired boy advanced forward. He wasn’t as fast as Yijun, he quickly found out. The boy had twisted his body out of the way, rising to his feet. Up. The next bout came down in an arc-like motion.

Chen pivoted on his heel, forcibly crashing his sword against his opponents. He didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the attack, lifted his leg and swung it around. His foot came into contact with Yijun’s leather armour on his side, ultimately catching the boy off guard. His strength gave him the upper hand. He was able to throw Yijun off balance.

The boy fell to his knees, his blade skidding out of his hands. That was typically the point where others would yield; submit. To his surprise Yijun abandoned his weapon and lunged for Chen’s legs, bringing him down to the mats with him. The air was knocked from his lungs, a choked cough escaping the back of his throat. His elbows rubbed roughly against the mat, and sweat clung to his clothing.

Scoffing he tossed his weapon from his own hand. He would fight fairly. If Yijun wanted a fist fight, then that was what he was going to get. A fire grew in the pit of his stomach, fuelling an intense rage that burned within his body. Beneath his hands, he could feel the bones of the other boy’s body. Behind him, he could hear the chatter of students who were obviously watching wide-eyed.

“Stop,” the trainer called. Both boys were looking at each other, chests rising and falling swiftly as they caught their breath. There wasn’t a trace of disapproval in their coach’s voice, but rather a newfound admiration. “Well, it would seem you have met your equal.”

Equal. The word was like venom.

“I think we’ve all had enough for today,” the man continued. “Chen, I believe it is your turn to pack up. Yijun, I would like to speak with you privately. The rest of you, get out of my sight.” It was rare, that he would call students by their first name. In such a short time, Yijun had stood out. Curling his hands into fists, he watched as Yijun stood, his forest eyes shining with self-satisfaction. Right then and there, Chen wished to continue their brawl.

Instead, he swallowed his pride and rose to his feet. Not once did he dare look in Zhou Yijun’s direction. He had a job to do, he reminded himself. While the rest of the class proceeded to head towards the change rooms, Chen started on tidying up the gymnasium.

In his mind ran the previous fight, contemplating each decision he had made. Was he too predictable? Was he too rash in his choices? Perhaps, but with someone as fast as Yijun, he didn’t have the opportunity to dawdle on his own thoughts. He trusted his body to react; his countless years of training to defeat his enemies.

When Chen entered the change rooms, the sound of water dripped in the distance. He rubbed the back of his neck, stopping when he emerged in the centre changing area. Like always, the shelves lined the walls, currently empty of most student’s belongings. To his disbelief, there was however one person remaining.

Currently just standing in their formal uniformed pants was Yijun. His damp hair clung to the back of his neck as he pulled down his shirt. While it wasn’t odd, what was strange was a mark etched into his skin just by his right shoulder blade. A frown formed on Chen’s face as he stared at the circular mark that appeared to have some form of star inside.

He didn’t manage to obtain a close look as Yijun turned. The fair-haired boy drew his shirt across his shoulders calmly, all the while watching the other boy. Chen lifted his eyes to meet his gaze. It was difficult given everything, but he knew better than to dwell on it. He opened his mouth to inquire about the tattoo but found that the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.

“Yijun isn’t it?” he found himself saying. The boy simply nodded his head in response. “Chen. Nice work out there today.” A small grin tugged at the corners of Yijun’s lips, but once again the boy nodded his head quietly. Yijun turned to grab his tie, keeping his back to Chen.

Chen’s gaze found its way back to Yijun’s shoulder which was now covered. There was something both familiar and foreign about it. It almost appeared that it was of runic design, he thought to himself. He shook his head, dismissing the thought entirely and moved in front of his shelf.

He pulled out his uniform, holding the limp fabric in his hand. He brushed his thumb across the cloth, biting his lower lip. Peering over his shoulder once more he saw Yijun fixing up the cuffs of his sleeves. His tie was now neatly folded around his neck. It was as though he had done it a hundred times before. Just like in training.

Chen knew he shouldn’t be bitter, but he couldn’t help the feeling of irritation rising in his blood. He hadn’t been bested in a battle for years, not since he was a young child just beginning. Suddenly, this new student appears without a word of where he was from and manages to humiliate him. What was the council trying to prove?

He didn’t beat you, he told himself quickly.

Did this mean he thought that if the battle continued that Yijun would? He shook the very thought from his head. Angrily he yanked on the remainder of his uniform on, watching from the corner of his eye as Yijun exited the change rooms. Chen forced himself not to watch. Watching would only feel like he was letting Yijun get away with it. He was determined to show him who the better pupil was.

Chen took a breath, closing his eyes. Yet, on the back of his eyelids, all he could see was the symbol that was drawn on Yijun’s skin. He hummed quietly in thought to himself. There was only one place he could think of that would have the answers he was seeking.

While walking through the library aisles at the end of the day, Chen recounted what he had seen in the dressing room. Xiang stared at him with his signature eyebrow raised sceptically. Softly, Xiang exhaled in laugher.

“Let me get this straight. You walked in and ogled the new guy?”

“I didn’t ogle him. I just happened to notice the mark on his shoulder is all. Do you think it could be some kind of brand? Like, is that what they do at the other academies?” he whispered.

“It could be,” Xiang shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t the Magi have symbols embedded on their skin?”

“Yeah, but I hardly think the council would have trained mage child. If it is a mage mark, it would mean he is in league with them,” Chen explained. “Either that, or he’s under their influence.”

“That’s a theory,” Xiang nodded, “To tell you the truth, I haven’t heard him say anything. It’s like he can’t speak.” Chen blinked, thinking back to the short encounter in the change rooms. Even in private, when Chen addressed him, Yijun didn’t utter a word in response to him.

“So, what do you think?” Chen stopped in the aisle. He folded his arms across his chest as he looked up at the taller male. Xiang ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“I think you’re annoyed,” he responded, not missing a beat in his words. Chen promptly shot him a cold look that would have frightened anyone else if it had not been Xiang. “Wow, scary. Look, if you think it’s a cause for concern, you can bring it up to the council’s attention,” Xiang offered. “If he is, then the faster they get rid of him, the better.”

“I need more information before I go to the council; I don’t want to make a fool of myself,” Chen stated. He rested his weight predominantly on one of his legs, his attention not on Xiang but rather the array of books that surrounded them. “Starting with a little research.”

“Research? You’re willingly studying?” Xiang exclaimed. There was no way to tell what direction it came from. A sharp ‘sh’ cut them off of their conversation and caused Xiang to promptly to mock them.

“You’re such a baby,” Chen muttered, shaking his head. He continued walking down the aisle, sliding his hands down into his pocket.

“I’m older than you, if anyone’s the baby, it’s you,” Xiang’s voice called behind him. “Where are you going?”

“To find a book on ancient runes.” Xiang stood still, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

“He’s officially lost it,” he mumbled to himself, “You know we have an assessment coming up! Don’t you think you should be preparing for that? Chen!” Chen just lifted a hand up and waved it off. The burgundy haired boy sighed heavily and placed his hands on his hips. “Of all the ”

“Sh!”

“Oh, bite me.”