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  “Thorndike was the victim of another terrorist attack last night,” it announced. “Three are dead, including two Guardians and one civilian. Losses amount to 1,000 Gold in damages and one power shard. The Sky will never fall again.” The message ended. Around her, Sybil felt the collective mood of the crowd change to one of indignant rage. The Future Storm’s attacks were getting worse. This was the third one in a month. She did not understand the Earthlanders; their attacks always killed innocents. How could they think it worth it? How could they not understand the vital work of the Arrival?

  Making her way quickly through the crowd, Sybil made for the closest Board platform. The queue stretched down the wooden steps and Sybil waited patiently behind an old Guardian for her turn. She had heard the Boards had gotten so popular they were even considering drafting the Less Fortunate and the Beggars into powering them. But they were powered by having a string of people using the Pulse to support them. There was one every hundred meters or so and drafting in the lower ranks would probably wind up making them lethal.

  The queue before her melted away and it wasn’t long before she was next. She stepped calmly on to the metal plate, marvelling as it rose below her, but showing no trace of emotion. Students of the Drum did not show emotion. That could only be done if you were a Guardian, Less Fortunate or some other lower rank, in which case you didn’t know any better, or by a Pulse-Master, in which case you knew exactly when and to what intensity emotion was called for. Below her, the Island of Tommen passed by slowly, the Board easily avoiding the crowds that plagued the entrance to the Drum. Within minutes, its domed top came into view, gleaming in the sunlight. It was beautiful in the morning, its bronze roof and white plastered walls a perfect contrast to the hundreds of identical skyscrapers on every other square inch of land.

  The Board clattered to the ground rather ungraciously as it reached the huge wooden doors that led into it and Sybil stumbled slightly before catching herself. She shot an irritated look at the group of Fortunate supporting the Board and they glanced back apologetically. Ok, sometimes she showed emotion.

  She stepped through the huge doors and the cold air enveloped her. She was running late, she could feel it. As if to confirm her fears, a short, sharp ringing sang through the halls. That was the bell for her first class, a class which lay on the other side of the Drum. What a great start to the day. She began to pick up her pace, practically sprinting down the long hallway which stretched from one end of the Drum to the other. About three quarters of the way, she darted leftwards, up a short staircase and towards the third room on her right.

  Outside the door, she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Even here she could hear her teacher’s excited, enigmatic voice:

  “Before the War on Time, no, that’s not it, after, yes after, no wait during, yes during the War on Time there was huge damage to the-” he broke off as Sybil turned the handle and entered. He glanced up disapprovingly, his short, frazzled beard shaking as he did so. Sybil closed the wooden door softly behind her and chose a seat in the back row, trying to ignore the stares of her classmates. Students were never late in the Drum. It showed disrespect. Ok, Students were rarely late in the Drum.

  Her chair screeched noisily on the smooth timber as she took her seat, but Master Smith was already continuing where he had left off. “Huge devastation to the timeline, there was,” he continued. “Massive. That’s why it is called the War on Time, not the War for Time or War of Time or some other such derivative. No, by the end of it no one nation was fighting for a particular vision of reality, no, they were fighting for reality itself. The Seers, you see, had grown too powerful, once they’d learned to manipulate the timeline, and before anyone knew it, everything was falling apart. Families were flung to separate corners of the globe, millions perished and whole nations disappeared overnight. Literally overnight,” he threw his hands up in the air in excitement. “Entire nations destroyed and new ones born and by the end of it no one really knew who owned what or where. That was when the real fun started.” Pivoting on one foot, he span towards the blackboard and began writing down figures furiously. Around her, Sybil watched her classmates reach for pen and paper. Sybil didn’t bother. Students were only examined in five out of eight subjects of their own choosing and she wasn’t much for theory. Instead, she just listened and let the figures wash over her.

  “Twenty-two separate border wars,” continued Master Smith excitedly. “Twenty-two! Of course there could have been more, nobody really knows, indeed if any one individual Seer had done anything different we could still be embroiled in war, but of course it’s hard to know, and, by the end of it, the population of most of the world’s nations from Babel to Coral had fallen by about half. All of them!” He wagged his finger insistently at the class. “All of them! Killed by the Seers. And so it had to be done you see, the Great Silence. They had to be stopped, never mind all the needless death, there wouldn’t have been any reality left if they’d kept going. And so they were stopped, most were killed of course, but that became so barbaric that eventually it was realised that they couldn’t very well prophesy without their tongues so they were simply taken instead. And!” He waved his hands in excitement, beaming at the class. “If you’re very lucky, one day you may even see some of these tongues, preserved forever in the Earthland city of Ekriam! They hang from the ceiling of a great Temple there, forever frozen in time by the power of one of the last Seers.”

  “Now!” he shouted, changing tack and pacing towards the far corner of the room. Here he pointed at a huge, ancient map. “This map, very ancient, very old you see, shows how the Earthlands used to look before the Seers were Silenced. But, of course, as we all know, once the Seers were destroyed the Wyverns came and, with them, the Skylands, to provide a select worthy group an escape from the filth of the Earthlands, which is, incidentally, why there has never, not once, been a Seer born on the Skylands. The Earthlanders, of course, were jealous. Never happy they aren’t and they destroyed the first Island, Carthos, and this of course triggered the Fallen War, which we won, of course, and this brings me to the topic of today’s lesson: why Carthos fell.”

  The rest of the lesson was taken up with detailed descriptions of the mineral content of the former Island of Carthos, what had been learned from its destruction, the symbolism behind the memorial in the Earthlands, how many had perished… the details were endless.

  “The real problem,” concluded the Pulse-Master. “Was our trust in the Earthlanders. The Island of Carthos held our biggest Power Shard mines and many of them were controlled entirely by free Earthlanders or those who had illegally travelled here. They used this fact to dig too deep into the mines, far too deeply, completely bypassing the normal safety limits and draining the Island of the power it needed to stay afloat. Each Power Shard, you see, contains some of this energy, remove too much of them and BOOM!” he jumped up suddenly, spreading his arms and legs into a star shape. “And the Earthlanders did so. Doubtless they thought themselves martyrs or some other filthy notion, whatever their reasons-“

  The bell rang again, cutting him off. The elderly Pulse-Master looked up in irritation.

  “I guess we’ll cover it in the next lesson so,” he muttered. “I will see you tomorrow.”

  Sybil got up to leave, but before she could, Master Smith beckoned her towards the front of the class with one crooked finger. The rest of the Students didn’t make eye contact and filed out until she and the old Pulse-Master were alone.

  “You were late,” her teacher stated flatly.

  “I apologise Master Smith-” she began, but the Pulse-Master raised one hand, silencing her.

  “If it happens again, I will lock you up with Hesther for an hour. Now go.”

  Sybil shuddered unconsciously and tried not to show her dismay. Students did not show emotion. Turning away, she strode quickly from the room. She had five more classes today and she was not going to be late for another one.

  Her next
class was Pulse Observation, which Sybil hated in a very non-emotive way. The Master was a young one, who had only just graduated and clearly had no desire, nor any ability, to teach. He spent the first half of the class going on about his own research into the effects of the Pulse on different types of Orock over time and Sybil fought to stay awake throughout. She understood the importance of the substance- almost every building in the Skylands was built from it- but she didn’t particularly care how fast it decomposed when exposed to different degrees of Pulse generated humidity. The second half of the class was no better and Sybil practically staggered out of the room when it was over.

  Outside, she made her way to her favourite class: Higher Level Destruction. The class was located in the training grounds, rather than within the Drum itself, and Sybil could feel the excitement building within her as she made her way towards it. She liked destroying stuff – she was good at it and it was very satisfying. She was one of the first to arrive and she stood impatiently in the middle of the clearing, waiting for the others to file in. It was bright outside, away from the shadows of the skyscrapers and Sybil enjoyed the warmth the sunshine leant her body. On the wind, she could smell smoke emanating from the charred remains of the last training session. In one corner of the clearing lay eight mysterious cages, each covered with a brown canvas cloth. This was more like it.

  “We are moving beyond simple binding and fire based techniques today,” the Master began, a plump middle aged woman with scorch marks on her short, green dress. It was probably the most inappropriate thing to wear to a class on Higher Level Destruction, but that was Master Sooth – she lived for inappropriateness. “Today we will be learning some basic punishment methods.” Behind her, the cages began to shake noisily, a familiar squawk emanating from them. Stepping towards them, Master Sooth pulled off the canvas covering to reveal eight Wyverns, each crammed into a separate cage, their eyes panicked and crazed.

  “You might think the area you are most likely to use these techniques would be in interrogation, but that is not actually the case,” continued Master Sooth, wagging a finger at them as if they had suggested it. “In fact, these techniques can only be used on Wyverns as human minds are strangely closed to such attacks.” Beside her, the Wyverns collectively hissed at the Master, some even reaching crystal claws through the cage, vainly trying to reach her.

  “Wyvern’s are fiercely intelligent creatures,” the Master continued, ignoring them. “And they are not tamed easily. But they are a crucial part of the Arrival, without them we would be blind. Not to mention several miles too high. We have tried feeding them well, we have tried housing them in palaces, we have even tried giving them a measure of freedom- but they do not seem to respond to kindness. Indeed, they are more likely to fling a kind Pulse-Master to their death. They are treacherous creatures. They do not respond to direct pain either- we have tried it. You can beat them, you can poison them, you can even set them on fire- they will be no more obedient to you and, when the moment comes, when you need to trust them most, they will abandon you. Then we developed these punishment techniques.”

  The low beat of the Pulse rose for a second and Sybil watched as the Wyvern’s instantly cringed away from the edges of the cages, backing into a corner and shielding their faces with their wings.

  “These are some of the most advanced techniques you will ever learn in Pulse Destruction,” Master Sooth continued, her face impassive. “You are not simply destroying physical matter, but a mind. Such techniques vary from inflicting imaginary pain…” Behind her, one of the Wyverns suddenly began to convulse, its mouth opening as it squawked in agony. “…to creating living nightmares…” Another one of the Wyverns suddenly began screaming, its crystal body straining against the cage, its talons crashing and twisting against the bars as it flung itself against it in a panic. The Pulse-Master turned to the third Wyvern in the row of cages. “…to creating false memories…” The Pulse surged in Sybil’s ears for a second and then fell again, as before her the Wyvern collapsed to the floor of the cage in despair, its eyes broken, its body seeming to almost melt away before her eyes.

  “By far the most effective method, however, is the removal of memories,” concluded the Pulse-Master. “And it is this that we shall focus on today. Any another punishment, though more complex, is just as crude as the threat of a physical beating. The punishment may last a moment, but the promise of release will outweigh this cost for most Wyverns, no matter how well trained. The threat of memory loss, however, is different. The beasts know that you can take this from them no matter how fast they try to shake you off during the Arrival and most will do anything to avoid the pain of forgetting who they are. So,” Master Sooth clapped her hands, beaming at the class. “Who would like to start?”

  Sybil felt a shiver of revulsion run down her spine. The idea of destroying someone’s identity…

  “Sybil,” Master Sooth called, interrupting her brooding thoughts. “You are usually very adept in this class. Would you like to try first?”

  Sybil felt herself nod and step forwards. It was an automatic, instinctual reaction and she cursed her body for betraying her. In a very silent, non-emotive way of course. Master Sooth beamed at her.

  “This is one of the most complicated techniques you will ever learn,” she told her. “Which is why only Students and Arrival trained Guardians are taught it. Now, follow my beat.” Sybil felt the Pulse-Master’s beat rise, marvelling at how she subtly accentuated the sound so it would be easier for all of the Students to follow. Soon, it was thundering in her ears, displacing all other sound and dulling her other senses. There was nothing but the beat. In front of her, the Pulse-Master gradually changed the flow of it, directing it towards the fourth Wyvern in the cage, the beat quieting, but speeding up. Sybil could feel the power move through the air like a thick treacle, bellying its rapid tempo. Before her eyes, there was a sudden flicker of light and then abruptly the beat disappeared. Sybil stared. The Pulse never just stopped. In front of her, Master Sooth studied her expression.

  “Embrace the Pulse,” she commanded and Sybil obeyed, allowing it to fill her own mind, rather than listening to the Master’s beat. “You cannot hear my Pulse,” she continued, “because it no longer exists in this reality. Instead, it now resides within the Wyvern’s mind, where I can manipulate it as I see fit. This is the first step for any punishment technique which involves psychological destruction. Now, follow it inside this creature’s mind.”

  Sybil obeyed, inexpertly trying to copy the beat of the Pulse she had witnessed only moments before. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she concentrated furiously. Within moments she had caught the beat, and she directed it quickly at the Wyvern’s mind, plunging towards what seemed like a bright, endless tunnel. She dived deeper inside, her ears listening for the familiar sound of the Master’s Pulse. Suddenly, a burning pain seared through her and she staggered back, feeling her Pulse reflecting away from the Wyvern and dissipating in the air. Gradually, the beat faded and Sybil fell to the ground in pain, clutching her head and gasping for breath.

  The Pulse-Master looked sternly down at her. “That was sloppy Sybil. You completely misguided the direction of the beat. For these advanced techniques, simple things like volume and tempo are not sufficient. You must consider direction and entry points. If you get it wrong, you’ll just make it easy for the Wyvern to fight back. Try again.”

  The rest of the afternoon was spent practicing the technique and an hour later six of them had managed to enter the Wyvern’s mind for at least a moment- Sybil included. As the bell rang, Master Sooth sighed in frustration. “Well, I guess one class would have been too much to hope for. We will get to the actual punishment at a later date. Goodbye.”

  As the class filed out, Sybil could not help but look back in pity at the Wyverns who stood trapped in the tiny cages. She hoped they had some respite before the next training session. ‘Pitying the Wyverns is dangerous’, she rebuked herself. ‘They are treacherous c
reatures.’

  Her next few classes went by in a blur: Advanced Healing with Master Yuki, Higher Level Construction with Master Tenmen and Preparation with Master Baker. It was evening as Sybil slowly made her way home, exhausted. Wearily, she stepped on to a Board. She didn’t even glance at the groups of Fortunate controlling it as the metal plate shuddered from group to group across the open air. Her head felt like it was about to explode. The Healing Class had really pushed her, there were just so many details to remember when putting somebody back together. It was far easier to just blow them up.

  She felt something wet on her lips and she knew people were staring at her. She wiped the blood away with one sleeve. She tried to ignore their questioning looks as she stumbled from the Board platform towards her home. She tried to ignore her own questions. Did Seers bleed like this? Her head throbbed like there was someone drilling into it. She stopped to lean against one of the buildings, allowing her hand to sink into it. She didn’t know what the nosebleeds meant. She didn’t know anyone else who’d ever had them. No one in the Skylands anyway… But her birth-mother had come from the Earthlands, one of the last before the new immigration laws had come in. The Drum had almost refused to accept Sybil as a result and she’d had to work twice as hard for her place. She ducked into a nearby alleyway, trying to get a hold of herself. Spots danced in front of her eyes and she felt her mouth go suddenly dry. Her head swam with nausea. The blood dripped from her nose, down her lip, caressing the curve of her chin. It hit the ground before she could catch it. Her head exploded in pain, her vision blurring and the world spinning around her.