Break The Ice (19 page)

“Shool,” he says. A few of the Dinmani laugh. A grin tugs at Shinmar’s lip. “With an h,” he says, shaking his head.

“We’re missing something, aren’t we?” Dan whispers to me.

“Shool,” he repeats, emphasizing the
sh
sound. “Who knows what it means?”

Nobody answers him. Tinjen shakes his head. “Have none of you studied the old language?”

“They do not let us in school.” It’s Ti. She’s in the very front, eyes glued to the book even as she answers Tinjen. “We have asked but they never let us.”

“How do you expect to teach them anything then?” Tinjen says, looking over at Shinmar.

“It does not matter if they know the language,” Shinmar says. “They will learn it here. Shool translates to the word frozen. When linked with your Dinmow…well, watch and learn.”

Shinmar stretches his neck and holds the book up higher. His arms bulge, dark blue veins popping out from under his skin. They glow, dim at first until they’re shining, intense. “Shool.” It comes out as a low grumble, almost inaudible.

This time, the book’s pages stop swaying. They harden in place, covered in frost. He holds the book up and one of the covers snaps in half. As if it’s no big deal, he drops the book and lets it shatter into pieces.

“Try it amongst yourself. Grab anything in the room and see what you can do,” Shinmar says.

“What if we mess it up?” Ti says.

“Do not worry about messing anything up. Like many of the things we will learn here, it cannot harm your fellow students.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t work against the Dinmani?” Dan says, reading my mind.

Shinmar stops in place. He had turned around to leave the room, but he lingers a few feet from the door. Facing us, his eyebrows furrow. “Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know if the word made it this far down the chain,” Dan says, “but we’re not exactly here training for the same reason the rest of you are. If what you teach Sam doesn’t help us against that crazy bastard Tinjo, then what’s the point?”

Tinjen’s eyes light up, his nostrils flare. He makes a move to pass Shinmar but gets held back.

“Take a break,” he says and Tinjen storms out of the room. Shinmar stretches his neck before looking back at Dan. “It would be wise to choose your words more carefully. Some here might not take your criticism of Dintar’s finest soldier so lightly.”

“He has my mom and friends hostage,” I say, finally forcing myself to speak. “Dan’s right. I need to stop him before he kills them. Or anyone else.”

Shinmar gazes across the crowd of students, all standing very still in place, not moving an inch. He shifts his focus between Dan and mine, chewing on his tongue. Clearing his throat, he says, “Come up here, human. Show me that you are able to perform this rudimentary action. If you can do so, I will not have to worry about slowing down my training schedule and you will learn advanced things soon enough. Things that will help you save your people.”

Dan gives me a push forward. “I’ve seen you do way more than freeze a book,” he says.

And he’s right. I don’t know how I’ve done anything so far, but I brought Striker back from death’s door and impaled Dan’s father with an icicle three feet long. Freezing a book, that’s child’s play. So why are my hands shaking so much?

Shinmar throws me a book, and I miss it. The cover slaps my hand and falls straight down. A few of the kids laugh and my face gets hot. I never had much coordination. It always comes back to haunt me one way or another.

“Shool,” Shinmar says, as if I already forgot the word.

“I know,” I say, snapping a little too harsh. What if I can’t do it? I might as well stop now and give in to the idea that mom, Kaitlyn, Mel, Ted…they’re all dead. I shake my head to quiet the thoughts that won’t stop buzzing.

No. I can’t believe any of that. If I do, then Tinjo really does win and all of this will be for nothing. Dan’s dad, murdered for nothing.

Focus, Sam. This is easy. I hold the book out in front of me, mimicking Shinmar, and say, “Shool.”

Nothing happens and that doesn’t surprise me. My face gets a little redder and my heartbeat picks up. I don’t like saying the word, it’s foreign and unnatural, like when I brought Striker back. All of the other times, something sparked in my gut, and I acted on it.

But for Shinmar and the class’s sake, I try again. “Shool.” Still nothing.

“Kick him out of the class and let us continue.” Tinjen stands in the door, laughing at me. “He will die before the Dinmow obeys him.”

Anger flares up in my chest. I can do this, but I don’t understand why it won’t work. If anything, I want to freeze the book to shut Tinjen up. The shaking in my hands intensifies and a droplet of sweat trickles down my neck.

“Concentrate,” Dan says. He hasn’t moved from where we stood together. He crosses his arms, face stern.

In two blinks, I wipe my mind clear. I don’t think about the class around me or the word that’s supposed to be key. I recall the memory from outside Dan’s cage when four rogue Sunjin attacked at once. I killed all four without having any issues. That sense, the urge to follow my instincts, that’s what I need now.

It starts in my stomach, same as before, and spreads upwards. The nauseating sensation calms my heart and draws the blood out of my cheeks. It surges down my arms and into my fingertips. Without saying a single word, the book freezes over, faster than in Shinmar’s demonstration. And, before I even let go, the entire thing explodes into bits of ice and dust, leaving nothing but two frozen book covers pinched between my fingers.

The students all stare at me, eyes wide. Ti drags her hand down her face and leaves it hanging there. “He did not speak the incantation,” she says. “He did not even say the word.” Her puzzled look turns to amazement and she claps, joined immediately by the others.

“Give me some time to catch the others up to your level,” Shinmar says. “You will learn what you need then.”

Shool. Druga kal. Lenti muhn. The list goes on and on. All words I won’t remember, and I can’t figure out how the Dinmani do it. Somehow, at the end of every day, they’re able to recite back everything they learned to Shinmar. Dan and I sit in the back. I can’t get over how fluently the words sound from them, yet still so alien to me.

Even though I can’t keep track of the words, I’ve performed every last thing Shinmar taught over the past two days. Even the ones that Tinjen failed on his first few tries. I’ve yet to see him get so mad.

On the morning of our third day of training, I lie in my bed and stare at my phone. Six percent of the battery left. I scroll through the texts from Kaitlyn, attempting to read every last one before the phone shuts off. Whether it’s because I miss talking to her, or I need motivation as each lesson gets tougher, reading them helps.

Dan moans and rolls onto his side seconds before somebody knocks on our door. Before I answer it, I have an idea about who are on the other side. Since first showing us a welcoming side, Ti and her friends haven’t pushed us aside, even after it became clear that I surpassed everybody in the class. A human beating the Dinmani at their own game.

I open the door, and Ti laughs at something Loch said. “Did you hear that?” Ti says. “Loch says he bets Dan’s still sleeping. I told him no way, but it looks like he’s right.” Everybody laughs together, and I join in.

“When did you start speaking like us mangy humans?” Dan says, rolling out of bed.

“We don’t care anymore,” Loch says. “It’s easier and we actually like humans. Well, some of them.” More laughter.

“I wish I could say the same about Dinmani,” Dan says, walking up behind me and pushing everyone out into the hall. Once the door closes behind him, Dan adds, “Where are Boon and Zen?”

The laughter dies. Ti scratches her forehead. “They thought it best to go in alone today. Not everyone is warming up to you guys so easily.”

“Two less names I have to remember. Fine by me,” Dan says. He smiles, but I recognize his tone. He’s upset. Probably angry.

“I heard a rumor about today’s lesson,” Ti says. “Shinmar’s letting you eat break…fast today. Must be something special.”

“It’s breakfast,” Dan says. “One word.”

The others laugh, but I’m lost in my own head. Could today be the day we learn how to get back home? How to actually stand a chance against Tinjo? I only hope it’s as easy as the stuff we’ve learned so far. If opening a portal back to Earth takes as much energy as freezing a book–

“Sam, you coming to eat with us?”

I snap out of my trance and look behind me. They’re all standing at the mouth of a hallway leading to the dining halls. “What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Zoned out,” Ti says. “Weird.”

Fly and Loch both laugh. Dan turns his head sideways. “After all the things I’ve heard you guys say over the last two days, that sounds weird?” he says.

Everybody goes up and grabs a tray. Not many people sit at the tables today. I guess we’re the only class allowed to eat this early. I pile the food on my tray that won’t taste horrible, even adding in a piece of the bacon Dan warned me about.

Ti gets to the table first. Fly, Loch, and her all sit on one side, Dan and I on the other. Nobody says a word. I shovel food into my mouth, happy to eat anything right after waking up. Ti reaches for her drink but elbows Loch’s instead.

The cup falls onto Loch’s lap and he jumps up. “Shru kag,” he says, wiping the thick, green liquid from his pants.

Ti and Fly laugh, but Dan flinches. He straightens up and calmly flattens his shirt. “What? Isn’t that one of the words you learned to banish a Sunjin or something?”

Loch shakes his head, grinning even though his pants are stained green. “No. It means…” He looks at the others. “I don’t think there’s an English translation.”

“It means fuck off,” Ti says.

Dan laughs out loud. “That’s right. I forgot we’re sitting at a high school lunch table.” He takes a few bites from his plate and struggles to talk through the food. “Speaking of English, what are the odds that Sam and I come to a different planet and you guys speak our language?”

The others look at Fly. “What, you guys do not remember the story?” he says.

Loch shrugs. “You studied history the most.”

Fly puts down his fork and takes a drink. “One of our oldest legends tells the story about a great Dinmani warrior discovering a new land. He brings his soldiers to the planet and they take over, layering the places they go with ice to mark their progress. On their journeys, they run into a species that can speak. Or they had the ability to speak but no words yet.

“At that point in time, the Dinmani had ushered out the old language in place of something easier to understand. They called it the new language, but throughout time, you humans renamed it English.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dan says. “Your ancestors travelled to Earth, caused an ice age, and then taught the cave men how to talk?”

“More or less,” Fly says. “That was a long time ago, and it seems the humans have created words that we do not use.”

“Like zone out,” I say.

“And Google,” Fly says, trying to pronounce it right.

“I stand by that comment,” Dan says. “If you had Googled the melting point of plastic, I wouldn’t have burned your floor.”

“We mostly use the old language to express anger now,” Ti says. “A small way to keep it alive.”

“And an easy way to say things without getting in trouble,” Loch says.

A new group of Dinmani enter the dining hall through the large wooden doors. They trickle in, two at a time. The last one walks through the door and, for a split second, a small crack opens up through to the other side.

Standing by himself is the surviving brother.

I can’t lose him again. For the second time, I leave our table without a word.

Ti calls after me. “Where are you going? You only have five minutes until training.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, not sure if it was loud enough to reach the table, but I don’t care. Even though the doors closed already, I keep my eyes glued to them. They open up while I’m still five steps away. A lone Dinmani wanders in and nobody waits on the other side.

I slip through before they shut and look around. Two Dinmani talk close by but neither are him. I run up to them and say, “Did a Dinmani walk by here seconds ago? Tall, thin, blue.”

They both look at me through wary eyes and a tight expression. I knew the blue part wasn’t necessary but couldn’t help myself. One points down a hallway next to him. Neither say a word.

Racing past them, I follow the hall and slide around the next corner, slamming into somebody. Our chests take most of the impact, but our foreheads collide, too. I rub mine, trying to shake the spots out of my vision.

“Woah kid, watch where you are going next–” He stops talking when he sees my face. “It is you.”

Out of breath, I stare back at him, not sure what to say. I was eager to catch up to him both times, but now I can’t remember why. “Your brother,” I say, trying to start somewhere.

His face shrinks, a solemn expression taking over.

“I don’t know what to say,” I say.

“There is nothing to say. He made his choices. So did I.”

“You mean…Tinjo didn’t kill him?”

He scratches at his ear. “He did. Sort of. Tinjo made an offer and Tilo took it when I turned and ran.”

“Tilo,” I say, learning his name for the first time.

“I am Silo,” he says.

“What offer did Tinjo make you?” I say.

“Freedom. Peace. But we already have those things here on Dintar. Tilo always wanted more. I do not think he expected to become a sacrifice in his first week.”

So he didn’t believe in Tinjo’s cause for the destruction of Earth. He only wanted to be a part of something bigger, and it got him killed. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” I say after a long pause.

“You should get to class,” Silo says. “Shinmar does not like students running late.”

I turn back to the dining hall. I want to say more to Silo, but I can’t think of it now. At the corner, I look back for a second. Silo stares down at his feet, lost in some distant thought. “You helped me out once,” I say. “I still owe you a favor, if you ever need anything.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

The dining hall isn’t empty, but nobody still sits at my table. I hurry back through the doors and retrace the route to the training hall. It doesn’t take me thirty seconds to get there, but before I open the door, I know I’m late.

I pull the handle, slow at first, trying to slip in without anyone noticing. I make it to my spot next to Dan before Shinmar says anything. He’s standing on a newly constructed stage centered in the training area.

“Now that everyone has arrived,” he says without looking at me. “Let us begin. Today is a unique day. Typically this type of training would wait until you are all older, wiser, and in an actual need to learn the material. As we have some guests with us, our schedule takes a curve.

“None of this information is pertinent for you to learn today. Because of that, feel free to leave if you choose. I expect you back tomorrow when we pick up with our normal lessons.” Shinmar crosses his arms and waits. A majority of the class walk out. Many of them glare at Dan and me as they pass. Do they blame us for ruining their routine? If this were on Earth, they would thank us.

By the time the room settles again, only a handful of students remain. Dan and I haven’t budged from our spots in the back. Ti, Loch, and Fly stand together near a table, leaning against it. Tinjen, to my surprise, doesn’t leave. He sits on the stage’s edge, looking out at a distant wall.

Five or six other students stand around in the middle, but none of them look too sure about staying. When Shinmar says nothing and stares down at them, they all retreat to the exit. He tries the same technique on Ti and the others, but they refuse to move.

“Alright,” he says. “It appears the rest of you wish to stay. Six is more manageable than thirty.”

“Why didn’t you want them to stay?” Dan says. He must have picked up on something I missed.

“Crime on Dintar is low for a reason. What you are asking to learn…it is very dangerous knowledge for a Dinmani to possess. I do not teach these skills by choice. If not for Shindrow, you would not even know they existed. You can thank his persistence for today’s lesson.”

I walk closer to the stage. “Teach us quickly, and we’ll get out of your hair.”

“I have no concerns that you will certainly
get out of my hair
,” he says, mocking my words. His usual tone, calm and nurturing, replaced by obvious distaste in the absence of the class. “You will have this one day to learn what I plan to teach you. No more.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dan says. “How’s he supposed to–”

I hold a hand up, and Dan stops talking. One day means I’ll be back on Earth faster than I thought possible. One day until I can rescue Kaitlyn. “Stop wasting time then,” I say, eyes locked on Shinmar’s. “What do we start with?”

Shinmar shoves the props off his stage. He throws a table over the edge and kicks a few chairs after it. “Up here,” he says. “Tinjen, down.”

Tinjen doesn’t hide his contempt for me. His eyes are tight, lips pursed. If his body let him, I’m sure he’d glow red from anger. Promised student, assigned instructor for what he knows, picked after a human.

I pass by him, surprised when he doesn’t slam my shoulder. The stage isn’t very high, so I jump up. My foot catches an overhanging curtain, and I stumble onto my knees. Laughter fills the room behind me.

“You too, Sunjin,” Shinmar says.

Dan hesitates. “Why me?”

“Like I said, these work against Dinmani. You believe I am putting myself in the way of his attempts?”

“Don’t they work against Sunjin, too?” Ti says.

A low growl comes from Shinmar’s throat, only loud enough for me to hear. Ti didn’t bother speaking properly in front of him. It takes some will power for me not to grin.

“They are equally effective against others, but I cannot properly teach a class if a failed trial incapacitates me, can I? Now, if you want your friend to learn anything today, get yourself up here.”

Dan climbs up without another word. He takes his place across the stage, fifteen feet away from me, putting Shinmar in the middle of us. There’s some sweat spotting on Dan’s forehead. He’s nervous.

Or maybe he’s remembering the last time I used my Dinmow on a Sunjin. On his father. A chill shakes my body.

“To get started,” he says, “you need to prepare your Dinmow. Warm it up so that you do not end up hurting yourself.”

“How do I do that?” I say.

“That is like asking me how you breathe. It is not something I can tell you how to do.”

Dan shakes out his hands, his face a mixture of red and pale. Is he more angry than nervous? He almost looks sick. He clears his throat. “Trust your instincts,” he says. “It’s worked in the past. Remember at the mountain?” His voice cracks a little at the end.