The Sons of Satrina: A Sons of Satrina Novel (6 page)

Kayleigh stepped up to the stage when she saw that none of the other staff members were going to make a move and cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.  After all, she was the only other person that had prior warning of this announcement and clearly, the rest of the staff were still reeling.

So much had happened in so little time and everything was still so up in the air with no real direction. She wasn’t really sure what she should do, but she couldn’t just stand there.  She didn’t know how much she could help but she couldn’t let Kelton shoulder all of that responsibility himself.  She had to step up to the plate.  This wasn’t her job, but really, everything that concerned him was her job.  He meant everything to her and she would do whatever she could for him to lighten his burden.

This was going to be a really long night for all of them.  Even with dawn approachi
ng, she knew that they all had a long way to go.

“Everybody? New class schedules will be with y
ou at some point this evening. All classes for the remainder of the night are cancelled as of this moment, something I am sure you are all aware of by now.  And for all those of you who have just started here at the academy, we know that this is a very difficult way for you to start your time here with us.  But, I am sure that the older students will guide you to the best of their ability.

“You must all understand what this means to us all as a race and your cooperation will be
gratefully received.  There will be counsellors on standby should any of you need to speak to them in this time of great sorrow.  Also, all the phone lines will be opened shortly for you to speak to your loved ones, should you so wish.  If you have any questions, for now please direct them to myself or Professor Fieldman,” Kayleigh gestured over towards the mousey brown Professor of Lamia Matris history, who she knew that she could call on to help her out and was immensely relieved when she saw her friend give her a little nod, “As I am sure you can appreciate, all of the warriors on staff will be otherwise engaged.

“Thank you once again in advance for you cooperation and consideration during t
his most difficult time.” with that she gracefully descended from the stage and headed out, wanting to find Kelton and make sure that he was as okay as he could be at a time like this.  She knew that she wouldn’t have much time before the trainee warriors came flocking to her office to find solace. 

In a way, it was lucky that dawn was approaching in a mere couple of hours.  The daylight hours would give them all a short respite.

At least Jackson now knew why he had been feeling like he had.  He was a direct descendant of Bartholomew and he should have realised earlier that this feeling came from the death of a family member.  It wasn’t something that he had ever experienced before.  He’d only heard of the effects that it had on the bloodline.  Not that he would have ever thought in a million years that it would have been Bartholomew that had died - that he had been assassinated.  It was just too absurd to comprehend.

It was really hard to get his head around it and all Jackson wanted now was to be left alone.  You could easily tell which of the males in the crowd were the ones who were descendants of their great leader, because their expressions mirrored his own.  Lonely.  Bereft.  Desolate.  And as he watched, each of them also headed off to be by themselves. 

It was a time for private mourning.

It was a strange feeling for them all.  Jackson had never even met their leader, but the blood bond between the blood family was stronger than anything anyone could ever know and he personally felt the loss of his death like a hole in his gut.

It was obvious to all of them, even without saying it out loud, that Bartholomew had been murdered.  And they all knew who by as well - the Lamia Mortuorum.  The
y were the dregs of the earth. The lowest of the low.  How did they ever think that they would be able to get away with this?

Goddamn murderous scum.

And the consequences?  There could be so many.

A new leader would have to be appointed, with the council reigning in the absence of a leader for the time being.  The Matris weren’t an unruly bunch, but they relied on leadership to show them the way.

The warriors training would probably be upped as well.  They would need all the fighters they could get out there to avenge the death of such a great and beloved man.  But, who would train them?  They would need all their warrior’s out on the street.

And who knew what else would happen?  The death of a Matris leader was something that hadn’t happened for at least a couple of centuries.  The last time that it had happened, there had been a sudden increase in warriors.  This was another example of the vampire magic that no one had ever been able to explain.  The warrior mark had started appearing on fully grown vampire males who were of direct descendant of the leader, no matter how distant that connection was.  Males
who had been born civilian were exposed to a whole new destiny.  According to Jackson’s parents, it had been a time of great adjustment.

Talking of adjustments - everything in the school schedule was sure to change also.  There was no way that they would be able to carry on and pretend as if nothing had happened. 

Jackson knew that Kelton had a very special relationship with Bartholomew, and was sure to take an extremely personal interest in avenging his death.  Both of them were legends in their own rights and everyone knew more or less everything about them.  Well, at least, the public knew what they wanted them to know.  Obviously, a lot of the private stuff, like what was going on between Kelton and Kayleigh, wasn’t for public consumption.  But, it was common knowledge that Bartholomew had taught Kelton everything he knew and that he had regarded him as the best warrior that this race had ever seen.  And, right up until the end, they still had daily contact and that the leader had often conferred a lot with Kelton over the race’s issues and problems.

What were they going to do without him?

Sitting in his bedroom, Jackson felt like he was going crazy.  Not wanting to venture out of his room, he knew that staying here and staring at his own crowded four walls was just going t
o drive him to distraction. He was torn as to what to do.  Rather than staying there alone and quietly going nuttier than a fruit bat all by himself, he decided to head out to see if he could walk off this feeling of despondency.  He wasn’t one for talking but he couldn’t just sit here in his room and stew.

There was no way
that he wanted to phone home.  It would just make everything feel so much worse.  His family were staunch supporters of their leader and hearing his mother wail and sob down the phone wouldn’t help him much at all right now.  He knew now that the whole family would have been feeling the same way that he had since the death of Bartholomew and the last thing he needed was his mother banging on about another tragic loss for their family.  It was more than he could bear.

His Uncle Cyrus had been living a happy, quiet normal life until the death of their previous leader, nearly two hundred years ago, before Bartholomew came to the throne.
One night, a few days after the leader’s sudden death, the warrior mark had appeared and Uncle Cyrus had to leave his wife and kids to go out and play warrior.  Unfortunately, Cyrus never made it home.  He had died in the line of duty, protecting the race.  And this was another one of the reasons that Jackson’s family was so proud of him, that he was going to be going out there and avenging his uncles’ death.

So, no. The last thing he needed to do right now was to call home.  He’d let the dust settle a bit and call in a couple of days to see how everyone was, once his mother’s hysteria had calmed down a notch or two.

Without looking from side to side, avoiding all eye contact with anyone he passed, Jackson hurried his way down the stairs and onwards to the administration wing, which was already humming with activity.

Jackson slipped through
the crowded administration area and headed out towards the back of the main reception area.  On their orientation, they’d shown them many things, including the back garden areas which was where Jackson was planning on heading.

Trying to see out of the door, he couldn’t tell if there was anybody out there already, but decided to go for it anyway.  Being cooped up indoors
was starting to drive him batty.  Hopefully, the cold air of night wouldn’t encourage many out there tonight.

Luckily, the air was cool, immediately filling his lungs with crystal clear air.  This was just what he’d needed.  The night was turning to dawn, turning the sky a magnificent shade of indigo.  Jackson closed his eyes.  He needed this.  Time alone.  Time to think.  To clear his head.

Hearing footsteps, his eyes flew wide open and his fists flexed instinctively.  Without a single word, Kelton clapped the boy on the shoulder, nodded slightly and moved through the glass doors away from Jackson.

Jackson stared after him for a moment.  They’d had the same idea, escaping from the madness, and Jackson felt a little guilty that he’d interrupted Kelton.  Sure, the dude was a badass warrior and all that, but he wasn’t unfeeling.  He had to be going through hell at the moment.

Kelton headed back in, trying to clear his head as he went.  Seeing Jackson out there in the gardens, it made him think briefly about the kid and the possibilities that he may hold as a warrior.  After all, he sure had the build for it.  The boy was almost as big as he was.  And those dark, determined eyes stayed focused on the task at hand.  But, that would have to wait.  He had too much on his plate at the moment.

Walking back towards his office, Kelton’s mind was swamped with what was needed to be done next to avenge Bartholomew’s death.

Revenge.  Vengeance.  Blood spilling.  That was all he could think about.  Everything else would have to wait.

Jackson knew that hiding out under the night sky wasn’t actually helping him, so he headed back in to try and attempt to get some sleep. 

A thick, cream envelope slid under his door shortly after five am.  He hadn’t paid much attention to what Kayleigh had said about the revised schedule, thinking about it now though, there was no surprise that it had taken a bit of time to arrange.  He was a little surprised that they had managed to sort it out as quickly as they had.  After all, there were four different years of trainee warrior’s schedules to juggle around, and the situation with the warriors who could train them would probably be needed elsewhere at the moment.  God knows who would teach them combat now.  But, that was the least of the races concern.

Opening the envelope and sliding out the letter that was printed on matching rich, creamy paper, Jackson was shocked to see that combat training was still included heavily in the schedule and not only included, but that their training had actually doubled.  In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been much of a shock.  Of course they would want more warriors out there as soon as possible, but who were they keeping out of the field to train them?

There was no point in trying to think too hard about it tonight, Jackson laid back on his bed again.  They were sure to find out what was going on tomorrow.

Turning out the lights, Jackson lay in the darkness for what seemed like an eternity.  Sleep just wouldn’t come to him.  All he could do was lie there and wait.

Chapter Eight.

The very next evening, Jackson awoke early again and headed out to the showers, disappointed that this time he was to find there were already others there who had beaten him to it.  Obviously he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep and had the idea of getting an early start.  It was upsetting, though.  He already looked forward to his
own time and space, but a spoil to his routine was something he was just going to have to get used to.

Oh well, never mind.  Only about another eighteen hours to go before he could get some peace and quiet.

At least the uneasy feeling was easier to deal with now that he knew the cause.  He wasn’t going crazy, which was something he was thankful for.

Keeping to himself, Jackson took a quick shower and shave and was ready to make his way to breakfast before training when his path was blocked.  Glancing up to see who was in his way, he saw Denver standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a moronic grin on his face.

“Do you need a tissue?”  Laughter bubbled in his voice and Jackson could feel his hackles start to rise.

Holding his ground, Jackson glared back.  “Move out of the way, Denver.”

“Aww, what’s the matter, big man?  What you going to do if I don’t?”  Denver paused for dramatic effect, “Cry?”

Oh, crap.  So, that’s what this was all about.  Jackson’s reaction to the death of their leader.  Denver was even more stupid than he looked if he was willing to make a big deal out of this.  It wasn’t lik
e he felt this way on purpose. If he’d have had a choice, he wouldn’t have felt anything but rage.  Bad move on Denver’s part.  Real bad.

“I. Said. Move.”

Denver puffed up his chest a little more and turned to grin at Lewis who was standing by his shoulder, trying his hardest to imitate Denver’s stance.  He failed miserably, the poor boy.  Lewis was one of the unfortunate few who didn’t naturally possess the physique of a warrior.  He was a skinny little runt who didn’t look like he could fight his way out of a wet paper bag.  The poor kid looked more like fourteen than eighteen.  Turning back to Jackson, the grin on Denver’s face sort of froze in place and he seemed to deflate a little.

Jackson turned his head slightly to check out his peripheral vision.  Something had to be up.  There had to be a reason for the subtle change in the douche bags face.  And surprise, surprise, what did he see?  A group of about fifteen trainee warriors of all ages, all standing behind him, and Jackson recogni
sed them all as some who had been affected in the same way that he had been over Bartholomew’s death.

“You wa
nt to make something of it?” a gruff voice just behind Jackson’s left shoulder barked at Denver, who now looked like he wished that he could crawl back under his slimy little rock.

“You start
on one, you start on us all.” another voice added.

Denver looked like he had lost his voice, and most of his confidence along with it.  And poor little Lewis looked ready to piss his pants.

A large trainee warrior, who looked like he was possibly in his last year of training stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jackson.  “I really think that this is the time that you should walk away, am I right?”

Ja
ckson couldn’t open his mouth. He was in total shock that Denver had pulled this stunt in the first place, and even more so that he had the backing of all of these warriors that he had never even spoken to before.  He could happily fight his own battles, but this was what the life of a warrior was like, having each other’s back.

Denver turned to check on Lewis and found the space next to him empty - Lewis had already hot
footed it out of there. The look on his face when he finally realised that he was on his own was a pure classic. 

Turning back to the warriors and looking a bit like a rab
bit caught in the headlights, Denver muttered something inaudible and turned tail and trotted out of there as fast as he could.

Jackson was totally lost for words.   Looking around at each and ev
ery one of them in turn, each nodded or bumped fists or clapped him on the shoulder, showing him that he wasn’t alone in this feeling.  That he wasn’t alone here in this school.  They didn’t judge him for feelings that were out of his control.

This was what he had been looking forward to about becoming a warri
or.  The extended family.  It was only his third day here and yet he already had all these people that he could turn to.   It was something more than friendship. Something much more deeply ingrained into each warrior.  The bond between warriors was indescribable.  They would fight to the death for one another, take a bullet, jump into the line of fire for one another.  Even Denver would be protected like he was family, no matter how much of a dick he was.  He was one of them, after all.

“Hey, man.”  Jase jabbed him in the ribs and Dylan pushed his way through the trainees who were still milling about and Jackson was pleased to see that he still had his friends by his side also.  It would really be a lonely place here without friends to rely on, as Denver was sure to find out, sooner or later.   Friendship had its own place.  Different to a warrior bond, of course, but just as important.

“What you gonna do, Jax?  You gonna stand there blubbering all day?  Come on, let’s go.  Trey’s waiting for us downstairs.”  Dylan chuckled at him.  Jackson and the rest of them knew that there was no malice in him and the comment slid by as harmlessly it had been said and they turned to head out for a bite to eat before they hit the combat rooms.

Jackson wasn’t too surprised to see a non-warrior Professor waiting for them as he entered the class and he took his seat at the back of the room with the rest of his crew.  They all waited in patient silence until Professor Fieldman cleared her throat and took centre stage of the class.

“Well, boys, I’m sure you can all appreciate that this is a unique situation for all of us and that we will all have to work together to make our way through it.  All of the warriors are in strategy meetings at the moment, so I will be overseeing your class for the time being.”

There was a small snigger from the front of the class and anyone would have bet money on it that it had come from Denver, but Professor Fieldman simply glared at him very briefly before continuing, “So, today, we have some trainees who are in their final year coming here to assist us.

“They will be coming in to run through some of the finer points of your basic training with you.  Please, co-operate to your fullest ability as this is not only about you and the start of your training, but their graduation date had also been brought forward.  This exercise will count towards part of their practical training.  All classes have now been accelerated. 

“We need our warriors.” she said, calmly but with emotion clouding her eyes. 

And, on cue, in walked about a dozen trainees, all of them in their final year and built like stone walls, and all of them had been in the bathroom earlier this morning, standing solidly behind Jackson. 

Each and every one of them made a point to either wave or nod at Jackson and to turn and glare menacingly at Denver.

Well, this should be fun!

Walking around the room to each of the new trainee’s, Professor Fieldman handed out a brand new information pamphlet, explaining in more detail the changes to the combat training routine for the time being as deemed appropriate by the council.  As she walked from student to student, she informed them all that their parents had been informed of the changes and that they should all read it in its entirety in their own time. Informing the families of the warrior’s plans was a mere formality.  They were adults and in control of their own lives.  And, they wouldn’t have a say in this, anyway.  Graduation times would be reduced, training would be increased, new exercises introduced by the council as they saw fit and schedules would be changed. That was that.  No arguments would be offered.

“
Right, boys.  It’s time for you to pair up and show us what you’re made of.”  Professor Fieldman stepped back to let the older trainees get to work.

Jackson collapsed into bed in total exhaustion.  That had been the most physically exhausting day that he had ever had in his entire life.  They had combat training for a full ten hours and every single muscle in his body screamed at the exertion.    He wasn’t even sure that he could make it down to dinner. He didn’t have any more get up and go in him.  It had long since gotten up and gone hours ago. 

Every part of his body ached with an intensity that he had never felt before, but it was satisfying.  This was what he was here to do and the sooner he was trained up, the sooner he would be out in the world kicking Mortuorum ass.

He was surprised that the extended combat training had really taken it out of him so much.  He‘d thought that he would have been fit enough to keep up but those guys sure had shown them all up.  Man, it had been a really, really hard day.  Their new schedule meant that they had been in combat training with the nearly graduated student’s non-stop. Well, except for a few short intermittent breaks to quickly cram some food down themselves, but that was about it.  They were already working them to breaking point.

They’d spent their day getting pummelled and his body was screaming out for a little relaxation.
  Even though it had all been minimal-contact, he still ached all over. The foam padding only absorbed the initial sting of the hit.  Jackson was at his physical peak, so how some of the other guys had survived it was a mystery to him.

All he wanted to do now was to sleep, pre
ferably for an entire week. Within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, he was out like a light.