Jack Templar and the Monster Hunter Academy: The Templar Chronicles: Book 2 (9 page)

I got it. I was the new kid in school. And in this school, everyone carried a sword and was trained to fight. There wasn’t going to be a cookie and punch reception to welcome me.

Any idea that our “classes” were going to involve sitting in a comfortable, warm room at a desk with a book and a professor was quickly proven wrong. The groups met out in the open, even as a dusting of snow floated down on top of us. I had a sneaking suspicion that if there had been a blizzard, we’d still be meeting outside. Obviously, this school was not interested in turning out academics. The graduates of this place needed to be tough and ready to survive, no matter the weather.

I wrapped my cloak tight around me and sat quietly in the back of Eva’s group and tried to focus on the lessons of the day and not worry about the chilly reception.

I glanced over and saw a few of the Ratlings hand up a huge tarp in the center of the field with the list of classes in the rotation that day. The segment titles that would have sounded bizarre to me only a couple of weeks earlier now all seemed strangely reasonable.

Don’t roll over and die for the undead. Defensive strategies against zombies and other undead creatures.

Here doggy, doggy. Trapping werewolves through trickery.

When less is too much. How the Lesser Creach can surprise you (and kill you) if you’re not careful. 

Demons. How to use their hellish anger against them.

Stakes in the heart and other false rumors about vampires.

At least it was better than World History and Algebra back at my normal school. I wondered how things were back in Sunnyvale and how the community had reacted to the sudden disappearance of three boys in the middle of the night without a trace. I wondered if—

“Jack,” Eva said sternly, “do you have an answer or not?”

I turned my attention to Eva and suddenly realized that the entire class was staring at me. I had been daydreaming and I had no idea what Eva was talking about.

I shook my head. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”

A few of the other kids chuckled at my expense. Eva didn’t look happy.

“I asked, what is the greatest point of vulnerability of a rock troll?”

She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. The other kids enjoyed my squirming.

“Well,” I said, “I’m not exactly sure what the technical answer is…”

“Then I suggest you listen instead of—”

“But all the rock trolls I’ve fought had bad eyesight and a terrible sense of balance. Oh, and they were dumb as rocks too, which might be how they got their name.” A few of the kids laughed. They were all leaning toward me, taking in every word. “All you have to do is give them an easy target and get ready to move when they lunge at you. They’ll over-commit and you’ll get a clear shot to finish them off. Either to the back of the neck or here, in the ribs, under the arm. But you don’t even need to do that.”

“What do you mean?” one of the kids asked.

I glanced at Eva. She nodded for me to go on. “Like I said, they can’t see well and they’re pretty dumb. Once you juke them, it’s hard for them to spot you again. If you can keep out of their line of sight for ten or fifteen seconds, then they’re likely to forget about you. Literally. They just stand there thinking, ‘Uhhh…I was trying to smush something, now what was it?’” The class laughed at my rock troll impression. I was on a roll. Or at least I thought so until I saw Eva standing with her arms crossed, looking not nearly as entertained as my new classmates.  

“And how about their other senses?” she asked. “Touch, smell, that sort of thing?”

“I guess they’re about the same as their eyesight,” I said.

“You guess?” Eva asked. “Anyone else here want to guess when it comes to fighting something that’s trying its best to kill you?”

The class turned quiet, the mood getting serious in a hurry.

“Rock trolls are cave-dwellers, so they spend most of their lives underground. But what they lack in eyesight, they more than make up for in sense of smell. Like a shark in the water, a rock troll can smell fresh blood nearly a mile away. They may be stupid, but once they lock onto a blood-scent, they won’t give up until they’re dead…or you are.” Eva locked me in a stare. “But you’re right, their lack of intelligence is a rock troll’s greatest vulnerability. Just don’t make it yours too.”

The class shifted uncomfortably as Eva and I locked eyes. Then a whistle blew and the class thankfully jumped to their feet and jogged to the next instructor.

After everyone had gone, I stopped by Eva and said, “Thanks for that.”

She grabbed me by the arm. “Give this place a chance. You’ll learn things here that could save your life, or the lives of the hunters you are fighting next to.”

I took a deep breath. She was right. I nodded and said, smiling, “Pay attention and listen up. Got it.”

“Or I’ll kick your butt,” she said.

“Yeah, like that could happen,” I grinned. As I turned to follow my class to the station, I got a swift kick to the backside. I spun around and Eva gave me a wink.

“Don’t get a big head. I’ll always be able to do that.” She turned and barked orders to her new class congregating in front of her.

I jogged to catch up with my group, already feeling better about the day.

The rest of the morning’s training segments were fast paced and did not waste a minute. Each class started with a lecture and ended with a practical exercise, either weapons practice or some kind of physical activity. Everyone else was used to the exercises and knew exactly what the instructor wanted the instant he or she asked for it. Meanwhile, I was bumping into people, moving left when everyone was going to the right, going right when we were supposed to go left, and generally making a mess of the drills.

After Eva’s class though, the rest of the group seemed to warm up to me a little. At least they stopped glaring at me every time I made a mistake.

On the last rotation, our group went to the werewolf class. As we jogged over, I saw that the instructor was Daniel.

“Great,” I said to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” a young boy, no more than ten, replied in a soft English accent. “Daniel’s by far the most talented hunter here, but he’s tough on his classes.” I glanced over and saw that the boy had a freckled face and a shock of bright red hair poking out from under the hood of his cloak. “Xavier’s my name, by the way.”

“Jack,” I replied.

Xavier giggled, “I know who you are. Everyone does.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m making friends so quick.”

“Don’t you know?” Xavier said. “Oh, that’s funny. Really funny.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Don’t you see? They’re scared of you.”

“What?” I asked in shock. “Why?”

“The Reg who defeated Ren Lucre in battle? With no training? With no help? Are you kidding me?” Xavier asked.

“I had plenty of help,” I said. There’s no way I would have survived that night by myself.”

“Still, there’s the whole Ren Lucre thing,” Xavier pointed out.

“I got lucky is all,” I said.

The boy leaned in closer to me so that our shoulders were nearly touching. “Tell me, is it true that you fought Tiberon in the forest on the way here? Did you really see him? What he was like?”

“Alright,” Daniel’s voice boomed over us. “Settle down or I’ll feed your toes to the mug-wumps and turn the lot of you into Ratlings.”

Clearly, no one thought this was an idle threat because the group fell totally silent and scrambled to sit in a perfect semi-circle around Daniel. I sat on one of the far ends, hoping to stay out of his line of sight.

“Welcome to the most important class of the day,” Daniel intoned. “Yes, all the classes here at the Academy are important in their own way, but what we discuss here most directly affects your chance of survival once you walk through those walls. While a small fraction of you might see a shaman-demon or a bone-wraith ever in your lifetime, every one of you will see a werewolf. Why? Because one of the most dangerous and malicious specimens in the world lives in the woods right outside our front door.”

As if on cue, a baleful howl rose up from deep in the woods and echoed throughout the walls of the Academy. Daniel smiled, pleased with the dramatic effect.

Xavier leaned over to me. “I don’t think he’s right about that. Werewolves are kind of my thing and I think Tiberon isn’t really a werewolf at all.”

“Really?” I whispered back. “Then what is he?”

“I’m trying to figure it out. He’s something different though. Possibly even unique. Aquinas lets me use her library and I found a book that…” Xavier’s voice trailed off as Daniel’s shadow suddenly loomed over us.

“Did you have something to say, little man?” Daniel asked. “Something more important than the lesson I’m giving?”

Xavier looked at the ground and shook his head.

“What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear that,” Daniel said.

“No, sir,” Xavier mumbled.

“Not good enough,” Daniel barked. “On your feet, boy.”

Xavier started to stand up but I pulled him back down and stood up instead. “It was my fault. I asked him a question,” I said. “Don’t pick on him.”

Daniel’s eyes darted over to me. “Don’t pick on him?”

“You might ask some questions from the class instead of just lecturing us. Xavier here has a theory about Tiberon,” I said.

Xavier slinked down, trying to quietly sneak away.

“Is that right?” Daniel asked, a smile on his face. “I’m sure we’d all love to hear it. Come on, Xavier. What’s your theory?”

Xavier stared at the ground. “I don’t…I mean, I think…”

“Come on,” Daniel said. “Out with it.”

“I don’t think he’s a werewolf. Not in the classic sense anyway,” Xavier’s voice steadied as he gained a little confidence. “The journals describe a wolf with the white cross all the way back to the founding of the Academy, back when the Citadel was built. We all know werewolves never live more than a hundred years, usually a lot less. So knowing that, how could the same werewolf be here all that time?”

“Simple,” Daniel said. “It’s not the same werewolf. The white cross is just a genetic trait passed down the line.”

“It’s too perfect to be a genetic trait,” I said. “I mean, it’s like it was painted onto his fur.”

Daniel stared at me, open-mouthed. In my eagerness to prove Daniel wrong, I’d let slip a crucial detail about the night before. “How would you know that?”

“I was as close to him as I am to you. Closer, really. I was touching him.”

Daniel grinned, suddenly confident that he had caught me in a lie. ““Impossible,” Daniel said. “And what were you doing touching him? Looking for ticks?”

“No, I was pulling out the bolt Eva put in him.”

The rest of the class exploded in a new round of chatter. Daniel spun around and shouted, “The next one who speaks goes into the Cave of Trials. Understand?” This got their attention. Everyone quieted down and looked away.

“You helped a werewolf escape? If true, that would be grounds for a tribunal to consider your banishment from the Black Guard,” Daniel said.

“You’re missing the point,” I said. “I think Xavier is right. Regardless, he certainly isn’t the malicious monster you’re making him out to be.”

“No, he’s a werewolf,” Daniel spat, his face turning red. “And, like all werewolves, they’re evil and can’t be changed.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, raising my voice.

“How dare you challenge me in front of my class?” Daniel shouted. “Especially when you know nothing about the subject.”

“I know enough.”

“My family has hunted werewolves for over four hundred years,” Daniel shouted. “How could you possibly know more than I do?”

“Because I know,” I shouted.

“How?”

“Because I was raised by a devil-werewolf,” I shouted. “And she died trying to save me from Ren Lucre.”

I’d gone this far, so I decided it was too late to turn back now.  I got up and pointed my finger at Daniel.

“So don’t stand there and tell me they’re all evil and can’t be changed because you’re wrong. You’re dead wrong.”

I suddenly felt the stillness all around me. I spun around and saw that all the groups on the field had stopped what they were doing and stared. A hundred pairs of eyes bored into me.  They had heard everything. I turned back to Daniel. “That’s how I know,” I whispered.

I felt tears well up. No one moved and there was no place to hide. I tried to hold it in but I knew within seconds I was going to cry in front of the entire Academy.

Just then, a bell sounded from the meal area, bright and cheerful, completely opposite of the mood on the field. Still no one moved.

“All right, you lot. You heard the bell. Lunch time, on the hustle.” It was Eva who broke the spell and sent the young hunters in training scrambling toward the lunch tables.

As the crowd ran by us, Daniel continued to stare at me as if I were a foreign object that he couldn’t understand. Something about his bearing stirred a new emotion in me. I wiped away the tears that had been right on the edge of rolling down my cheek and took a step toward Daniel. Gone was the pain from thinking about my Aunt Sophie’s sacrifice for me. Instead, all I felt was anger. And, from the look on Daniel’s face, he felt exactly the same way.

I felt a tug on my arm and saw that it was Will. I disengaged from Daniel and let Will pull me away. As he did, Eva stepped in front of Daniel and blocked his path as he moved toward me.

While she talked to him in hushed tones, Will and I walked to the tables filled with food.

“You’re making friends quick here,” Will said.

“You seem to be doing OK,” I replied, sounding harsher than I intended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will said.

“Nothing,” I said, feeling miserable for myself. We stood at the end of the line in silence. By the time we reached the food, the trays of chicken, vegetables and pasta were picked over fairly well. T-Rex was in the kitchen, away from the serving line, so we weren’t able to talk to him.

Bacho stood behind the younger Ratlings, barking instructions to them. When he saw me, his face lit up and he stepped forward, knocking the Ratling server out of the way with his hips.