Annabell's Final Academy Months

 

“Ms. Young, come see me after classes today,” Mr. Clemmons said as I walked past his classroom.

“Sure thing,” I called over my shoulder.

I was already pushing it to make it to anatomy on time. I spent too long on the range. I really hated some of the classes. I’d rather spend all my time in weapons training.

I just barely made it in the door on time. Once the doors close, they're sealed. If you didn’t make it in, you missed the class. That wasn’t tolerated here. I thought Blade training had been extreme; this was a different level. Missing class by even seconds meant a meeting with Ms. Roch. She was terrifying. She never yelled, but her presence soaked into your being in a way I’ve never experienced before. I only had to go once. That was more than enough.

“Glad to see you made it, Ms. Young,” Ms. Hellen said.

I flashed her a smile and moved quickly to my seat. Today we were covering bones. I could barely focus. She droned on and on about them. Weak spots, fracture points, striations if you are doing the breaking and mending, field fixes, and survival if you were the target of the breaking. It was all important. I knew I should be paying attention, but weapons were where my heart was.

Finally, the class ended. That was it for the day. I could spend the rest of the evening on the range. First, I had to stop by Mr. Clemmons office. He was one of the advisors. Once you completed the training, his recommendations were heavily weighted for your rankings. Better ranking meant more trust and better placement. It still felt weird to be in a secret school for Garrote training, but I was good at what I did. They all told us the field was different. I could see it to a certain extent, but that is what the training is supposed to prepare us for. I had become an expert at compartmentalization. I’m sure that’s why they called me.

“Hey, Mr. Clemmons,” I said as I walked into the room.

“Ms. Young, please take a seat.”

I dropped my books on one of the tables and pulled a chair up to the other side of his desk. I hoped this didn’t take long.

“I’ve been looking over all the notes on your cohort. You will be done with training by summer. When I got to yours, I was surprised to see your weapons logs are severely lacking.”

“Lacking?” I gasped. “I spend more time in the stadium than anyone else! I’ve been practicing to increase my draw speed, which is already the fastest in my cohort! I…”

“Annabell… That’s enough,” he said, putting his hand up. “I can see here you are leaps and bounds above your peers in precision with a handgun, rifle, bow, and crossbow. You have set record times in stripping, cleaning, and reassembling every firearm we have given you. You have also logged more hours in the stadium just this year than most do in three.”

“So, what’s the issue?”

“You haven’t logged any hours with a spear or a sword. Your hours with throwing knives and stars are pitiful, and I don’t see anything here about improvised weapons.”

“I’m not skilled in those, but as long as I have a gun, it’s not a problem.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I’ll make sure I do,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“As a Garrote, you must be infinitely prepared. Any number of things could happen to leave you unable to use one of your guns.”

“There isn’t anything I can say to convince you, is there?”

“No, there isn’t. As it stands now, you would take a very large hit to your ranking because of the deficiencies in your weapons knowledge. Your marks in most classes are very good, and a couple are serviceable. It looks like you need more hours in the simulator.”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I was one of the best students this year. I should be ranked as one of the best. Just because I couldn’t handle a sword very well shouldn’t detract from that.

“Now, now. Don’t tear up on me. Here’s what I’m suggesting: I will train you personally after hours if you’re willing. You will have a bright future ahead of you, and I don’t want to see that tarnished.”

“You would do that?” I said softly.

I had never seen him be this kind before. He was known as a hardass. He yelled a lot, demanded perfection, and very rarely smiled. Occasionally you would see him nod in approval with barely a half smile, but that was about as warm as he got.

“I don’t do it often. I refuse to waste my off time on students who are not serious about progress. I see the drive in you. What you are lacking is guidance. You are very dominating for a person so small. You charge in, make quick decisions about how your time would be best spent, and divert your energy there. It’s a good quality to have in life, but not so much in training. Give me your best, and I will help you hit top marks on your weapons final.”

“I will, Mr. Clemmons. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Take your things back to the dorms, rest up, get something to eat, and I will meet you in the stadium at 6:30 sharp.”

 

I had never eaten so quickly in my life. I brought the biggest jug I had to fill with water. I ducked out of the cafeteria as soon as I was allowed and practically ran to the stadium. It was 6 when I got there. Just enough time for me to get warmed up and lay out some weapons. I wasn’t sure what he would make me do, but I knew to be proficient with a sword, the weight of it was important. I watched one guy learn the hard way that swinging around a too-heavy sword makes you look much worse than using a lighter one.

As I was finishing my stretches and getting ready to grab weapons, Ms. Roch walked in. Her eyes flared slightly as she marched over to me with cat-like grace. She fixed me with the stare that made your soul run cold.

“It is after hours. Students cannot be here without permission. Explain yourself,” she said. 

Her words felt like barbs. The students all speculated it was some trick of spirit magic. I didn’t care how she did it; I just couldn’t stand it trained on me.

“Well, I had talked to… uh,” I started.

“It’s alright, Jacelyn,” Mr. Clemmons said as he entered. “I had planned to put the session in the system before we started, but it seems Ms. Young is early.”

She kept her gaze on me a few seconds longer. I swallowed hard, and my hands started to sweat. She turned to Mr. Clemmons.

“Will this be regular?”

“Yes. Most likely until she graduates. I will try to keep the times updated for you. However, I’m not as on top of things as Ms. Young seems to be. If you see her here, it’s probably at my request, and I will be happy to verify if need be.”

“Very well. You are a lucky student. Clemmons must see something in you. Don’t take it for granted,” she said before turning on her heel and gliding back outside.

“I should have known you would be early. From now on, you can access the stadium whenever you want, day or night, as long as your other marks don’t slip. The caveat: outside of student hours, you cannot use guns, bows, or crossbows. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Then let’s get started.”

He grabbed a few of the smaller knives and demonstrated. He tossed it up a foot or so, caught it by the tip of the blade, and flung it across the room at a target. He hit it dead center. The first time I tried to catch it, I sliced my finger. He used his air magic to close the wound, but it wasn’t completely healed. I would be done for the night if we told the healer I had been injured. It took almost an hour for me to hit the target at all. Mr. Clemmons was more patient than I'd ever seen him. I, on the other hand, kept cursing my inability to get it right.

“Your emotions are blocking your talent, Annabell. Block them out. It’s just you and the blade. Make it an extension of your being.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. I pushed away the anger and the frustration. I pulled everything I had ever learned about meditation together. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there. He didn’t interrupt me at all. When I opened my eyes, I tried again. I hit the target. I didn’t hit dead center, but closer than I had before.

It took less and less time between throws for me to get it. I spent every minute I could on it for two weeks. I could hit the center about 80% of the time now. Mr. Clemmons was ready to move on to other skills. He said I could always practice knife throwing more, but we only had four months before rankings would be decided, and I needed to raise my proficiency in other areas.

 

I spent every moment I could in that stadium. I took in everything Mr. Clemmons said. I would not let anything hold me back from ranking high. After four months of grueling training, I got a genuine smile out of him. He looked proud. It felt like the greatest achievement of my life. I couldn’t wait until the ranks were posted. It could be anytime now. I heard a commotion in the hallway and bolted out.

“They're posting them now!” someone called out.

I took off. I needed to know if all the work I put in kept me in the top 10. There was a crowd of students around the giant poster Ms. Roch was pinning to the wall. I squeezed through to her right. As she stepped away, I scanned the names.

Second. I placed second. I couldn’t believe it. My blood was pounding through my veins, and I had to blink several times. I expected it to be high, but I knew my classroom marks needed work. I scanned the marks for all 50 students. I blew almost all of them out of the water on practicals. The only thing stopping me from the top spot was that woman destroyed my classroom marks and came in just a little below me on practicals.

I still couldn’t believe it. I slipped out of the throng of students and took off toward Mr. Clemmons's room. I barely remembered to check if he was teaching before I flung the door open.

“Second,” I yelled. “I ranked second!”

“I heard,” he said with a smile. “I’m proud of you, Annabell.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your training, Mr. Clemmons. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“You did all the work; I just gave you guidance. You and you alone made this accomplishment,” he said. “I’m not your instructor anymore. We are colleagues now. You can call me Jason.”

“I still very much appreciate your help, Jason,” I said, trying it out.

I flung my arms around him and gave him a quick hug. He was surprised and didn’t know what to do with his hands. When I stepped back, he still looked concerned.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first,” I said.

“It’s fine. I’ve just never had a student, current or former, hug me before. Congratulations, Annabell. You will achieve great things.”