Page 72 of Validus Vale Academy 1
After the first game, I come to understand that Ludo has a massive vocabulary—apparently GLAIVE is some kind of medieval weapon—and I know I’ve found the best Boggle opponent of my life.
The thought flashes through my head that I want Ludo and I to still be playing games together in fifty years time. It’s a powerful, golden feeling, similar to the one I had when meeting the twins; like we were destined to be life-long friends... or maybe more.
Amid all the classes, training, and word games, I’ve tried to spend a good amount of time in the library, where Mr. Quinlin and I are also becoming fast friends.
"So, the earth-whisperer basically used the land's energy to power Validus Vale? Like the land was a gas station that the academy could fill up on?" I asked Mr. Quinlin, trying to understand.
He gave me a gentle but firm look. "That's a rather disrespectful way of putting it, Theo."
"Sorry," I mumbled. "It's just… do you think it's respectful for the academy toforcethe earth to do its bidding?" I frowned, the thought bothering me. "I would have thought an earth-whisperer wouldn't do something that benefited humans at the expense of nature."
"Manisa part of nature," Mr. Quinlin countered, “but I see your point. However, the whole thing will soon become sadly moot. The innate energy in the land has been waning for decades now. Not just in Validus Vale but the world over.”
Today I have a double study period, and I have decided it’s finally time to ask Mr. Q some of my most burning questions, in a roundabout way, of course. “I’d love to learn more about earth-whispering being considered innate magic, or innate magic in general, I guess.”
“Well, dear,” Mr Quinlin says, pushing his glasses a little further up his nose, "an innate ability is something you are born with, like blue eyes, or in your case, silver-gray. An earth whisperer seems to be born with an inherent sensitivity to the Earth's energies. But it still requires cultivation, practice, and understanding to have more than just a connection. Think of it like a musical instrument. Some people are born with a natural ear for music, but they still have to learn to play.”
“Does that mean all innate abilities can be cultivated into something stronger and more powerful?” I ask, feeling a little panicked that I might have rocket-fueled skills inside me.
Mr. Quinlin cocks his head to one side. “I’d assume so, but for actual answers, you’ll need to hit the history books once more. Obviously, no one has been born with actual innate magic for centuries.”
“Oh, I’d like to do that. Perfect topic for my next paper. Where should I start?” I make a note of Mr. Quinlin’s suggestions, and am surrounded by piles of history books when Johnny DeVille slams his hands on the desk in front of me.
“Where’s my team, dud?” he demands, his voice rough, almost slurred. His eyes are wild and unfocused.
Is he drunk?
I blink, then quickly shut the book on ancient forms of telepathy I’d been studying. “Uh, hey. I still haven’t heard anything from Donovan. I’ll let you know if I do.” Saying that seems the safest course of action. Johnny’s fingers tap on the table, and his mind is heavy and muddled. What is up with him?
I decide to do something I rarely do. I push my way into Johnny DeVille's brain. He may be Elite, but the aura around his thoughts is as soft as jelly.
—Fuck, if the team keeps losing, I’m done for. He’ll kill me, fuck—
There is absolute panic in there, and even though Johnny’s never been nice to me, I feel a stab of compassion. “Er, good luck on the match this weekend,” I tell him.
His head jerks up. “Gonna need more than luck, dud. Way more.” —Where the fuck can I score? I NEED more Augmentis? Fucking Manu, fucking Max—
Whoa. Augmentis? It’s a highly illegal performance enhancement drug. Was Johnny in withdrawal? And Manu, the supplier?
Johnny slides into the chair opposite me. I watch his hands clench and unclench. Gods, I wish he’d just go away; he’s vibrating with white-knuckled nervous energy. “First the twins and fucking Larsen—now Manu. They’ve all fucked me over. I’m dead,” he mumbles.
Larsen? Maximus was on the team, too? Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I get a memory from Johnny—of Donovan.
—Sorry, man. We just gotta go. My fate is not with Fateball, it’s with a silver-eyed goddess in England—
And then I can see the twins. What is happening? I get vocals from brains, not images. I’m lost in the vision of my beautiful boys, seen through Johnny’s eyes. The memory moves on, and now, another huge guy enters the blurry scene and stands alongside the twins.
—We can manage without you two pussies—the vast, wild-looking man laughs. He has an accented voice like Alexis’, making me think this must be his cousin. The twins are laughingand turn to go. Johnny watches Maximus wrestle his arms around them both.—Before you peace out, I found something beneath the laundry, totally wild, I’ll show you—
The images cut off suddenly. “Fuck!” Johnny slams his hand hard, and a second later, Mr. Quinlin scurries over. “Quiet in the library, please, and if you’re not studying, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The Fateball captain’s eyes become dull, like he’s giving up the fight. “Whatever,” he mumbles, scraping back his chair.
“Everything alright, dear?” Mr. Quinlin asks, full of concern as his eyes dart between Johnny’s departing back and me.
“He’s upset because he lost his best team members last year.”
Mr. Quinlin tuts and shakes his head. “Imagine getting so worked up oversports.”
