Suppliant

  Chapter 24

  My classes that morning are quite interesting. All of my professors show concern about my situation. I’m sitting by Zeke in Powers class when Professor Dylan makes the announcement that we will be pairing off to test our powers by throwing orbs.

  I feel more nervous about this than I am about running laps around the courtyard. That is saying something because everyone knows that I am a horrid runner.

  I sit back and watch others throw orbs before I gather up the nerve to practice.

  Zeke comes up behind me to practice throwing his orb against the protected wall. I hope that there’s no one on the other side of the wall; who knows if one of the orbs can filter through.

  It’s magically protected. He places his hand on my waist and puts his nose close to my ear. I feel a shiver run down my spine, and my body starts to react, causing me to shift away a little bit.

  Stop peeking. I mentally check my wall to ensure that it’s intact. It’s crumbled a little around the edges, so I put some extra focus into it.

  “Just let your power run free; feel it, pull it toward your hand, and let it go,” he says, still closer than I like to coach me.

  I try to focus on his directions.

  It’s hard to focus with Zeke being so close to me. I can feel his breath on my neck, hot and heavy. I can feel his pulse speeding up and mine matching it.

  Then I feel the magic. He’s so sneaky, he knows that if he gets this close to me that my body will react. He knows that it will cause my power to rise up in me when it feels his. It’s like a white--hot flash. It burns brighter now that I share it with two others.

  It makes me nervous. It’s addicting. My powers have been growing at an exponential speed since I arrived. What will happen if I can’t control it? The last thing that I want is for anyone to get hurt.

  My palms start sweating, and Zeke backs away. You can do this. Just focus on your power. Feel it pulse through you. I can feel it. Tell it what to do. He’s coaching me from afar now.

  What is that supposed to mean? How can I tell it what to do? I can’t make it rise up when I want. I feel overwhelmed. How can I do this? It’s too much to take in. I feel tears tight in my throat. Don’t let them out. Don’t show weakness.

  I take a deep breath. Take this one step at a time. I feel my power rise up again and know that it’s been waiting to be released. I know that it will feel amazing to let it go. I look at the wall and decide to let it go.

  I picture a white orb flying toward the wall. It starts to pull toward my fingertips, and I let it. At the last second, doubt sets in. What if it isn’t as big as everyone else’s? What if it’s the wrong kind of orb? What if someone gets hurt?

  My fear of failure starts to take over, but it’s too late. I can see the white orb slipping out of my fingertips. I curl my hand up and try to stop it. Some of it’s already gone, but most of it gets absorbed back into my body.

  I feel a shock. It’s like sticking my finger in an electrical socket. It brings back memories of being in the vision when Jessice was shooting the red orb at me, but my orb is much more powerful.

  The pain takes over, and I feel my eyes roll back. I feel my knees start to give way, and I reach for Zeke as the darkness takes over.

  ...

  When I come too, Zeke and the professor are the first things that I register. I look around and realize that the whole class has stopped and is looking at me. I glance at the wall and find a large black spot where the tiny orb hit.

  My immediate thought is how grateful I am that I was able to contain it. After shooting just one small orb, my spot is the largest in the class, and others have actually shot tons more.

  “You must have tried too hard to shoot an orb. It seems like you tapped out your powers trying to get that one large one off. Next time, just let it go, don’t try to build it so big,” the professor says.

  I look at Zeke, who’s smiling. He knows that I tried to stop it, and that I had only used a tiny portion of my power to shoot that orb. It could have really hurt someone. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could have killed someone that was unprepared.

  I must have this ability for something great and will have to be careful how I use it.

  I stand up and Zeke walks with me to get a drink of water. The commotion is gone, and others are back to the wall, shooting orbs. I take a moment to really look at the others shooting their orbs. I can tell where the impacts are on the wall, but I can’t see the orbs.

  How are they shooting clear orbs? Mine was white.

  The white orb is the strongest, and hardest to master. It takes most with power several centuries to build up their strength to shoot white. Great, he’s listening in again. I’m going to have to get used to this.

  “You should try again.” He bends close to my ear again, “This time, let it all go. You could have seriously hurt yourself with that.” Like I need a reminder; my body is still zinging.

  We approach the wall again. I wait patiently for my turn and watch Zeke throw off some orbs. It’s like second nature to him. He’s so relaxed, like he has done it his whole life.

  I have. I was raised differently than you. My parents started training me at birth, but don’t worry. My orbs are still less powerful than yours.

  I wish they weren’t. You can have my responsibility, I think.

  I step up again and feel a little pride when I realize that I am able to call on my power without assistance. I must be improving.

  I direct it toward my fingers again and feel it pulling there. I can see it growing. I can picture it soaring and hitting the wall. I hope my aim is good enough.

  A second before I release it, I hear some commotion. I turn my head to see what all of the fuss is about and notice some other students arguing about who has the biggest orb. They are playing tug--of--war with a book.

  My power peaks, and I feel it release. It’s amazing. It feels so good to let it all go. A smile lights my face at my release, and then more commotion breaks out.

  Zeke grabs my arm, and I realize that it isn’t pointed at the wall anymore. When I turned to look at the students, my arm changed direction and is now pointing at the window. It must have been one of those reactions like when you sneeze, your eyes close involuntarily.

  My heart sinks. What did I do? I look to where my hand is pointing, and on the ground is the professor. Oh my goodness. What did I do?

  I feel color come to my cheeks. The tears are back in my throat, but they are there for a different reason. Sorrow takes a foothold in me.

  The class rushes up to aid the professor. There are several students huddled around his limp body when Zeke grabs my arm, pulling me closer.

  “He’s not breathing. Someone get help.” The student is checking his pulse. I can tell by the grim look on his face that the professor doesn’t have one.

  Anger fills me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I let this happen? Two students rush off to get help.

  I bend down to feel his pulse for myself. There is none. He’s dying. When I touch him, I can feel his soul slipping away. I reach down inside me, and my instincts and power take over.

  I push the other students away. “Step back,” I bark. I place both hands on his chest and close my eyes.

  I can sense his soul leaving. It’s being ripped from his body. I can feel the excruciating pain. I picture my power wrapping around his soul, coaxing it back into his body.

  To my amazement, it’s working. I can feel Zeke lend me his power, and his strength comes along with it. His hand is placed on my shoulder.

  The professor’s soul is returning, and it’s still a little ripped. I dig a little deeper and pull on all of my power. It’s mending his ripped soul. It has returned to his body and I’m stitching it up when the other professors arrive.

  I can see them in my peripheral view, but choose to focus on my task at hand. When the last bit of soul is stitched up, I double check with my power to make sure that everything is i
n the right place.

  Then I send a small jolt through his body. White sparks fly around him.

  “Step back, Layla. We need to take him to see the Shaman, and fast. He will die.”

  I hear them, but don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying. His heart starts beating and his breath returns slowly.

  “Move, Layla,” one of the professors yells at me. This time I listen. My instincts are telling me that he’s completely healed, and my body is aching all over. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to do that.

  I rise to my feet, and the other two professors pounce. They both bend over him, and his eyes fly open. He begins coughing and starts to sit up.

  “What’s going on? They told us that you were dead. There was no pulse and no breath,” one of the professors says.

  “How is this possible?” the other one chimes in.

  The professor sits up. His coughing subsides, and someone pushes a glass filled with water in front of his nose. After he downs it, he looks at me.

  “I am so sorry. It was an accident. I got distracted.” This time I can’t hold back the tears as they begin to stream down my face. I’m so disappointed in myself, and it doesn’t help that I can feel the disapproval of the entire class weighing on me. My energy is completely drained.

  I can hear the professor trying to talk, but it’s too late. I have already turned and am running.