Given that the ekari were all about fighting, he had expected a bigger area for the infirmary. It was a rectangular-shaped building, perhaps 25 feet or so longways, around half the size of the armory. Was armor more important than caring for the sick? Or were there so few sick people to care for?

  The room was fairly bare. It consisted of four raised beds, which looked magnitudes more comfortable than his own, a small desk, a chair, and a shelf that housed various implements such as cloth and ceramic jars. At the end of the room was a door, which he imagined housed the bulk of the medical supplies, for there was a lack of equipment in the room before him.

  He hovered at the open doorway, not wanting to intrude. Fizo wasn’t here with him this time, and he hadn’t had the chance to go into the infirmary before, so he hadn’t met the town healer. First impressions were everything, and being polite was a great start.

  “Umm, hello?” he asked. “It’s Thomas. I was hoping to get some help.” A crash of glass could be heard originating from the other side of the door, followed by marching footsteps.

  “Look what you’ve made me do now!” an elderly ekari woman yelled in a shrill voice, bursting through the door. She appeared to be almost 70. Her hair was curly gray, and she had prominent cheekbones with a pointed chin. Strangely, half of her left horn was missing. Come to think of it, he’d seen a few other ekari like that. Was it some kind of birth deformity? He doubted this old woman had sustained it fighting.

  “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?!” she barked. He didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t to blame for her clumsiness.

  “My apologies if I startled you, miss. I could help you clear the glass if you like.” She seemed to grow even angrier at the offer of assistance.

  “I don’t require any help from the likes of you!” she said with a face of… was that disgust? Yes, it was definitely disgust. “So, what’s wrong with you?” she snapped, stomping over to him and snatching his arm. “Case of malnutrition, is it? You’re thin as a rake, look at you! All you’ve got to do is eat, boy! What the hell was Zerron thinking, recruiting you?! Can’t even care for yourself!” She flung his arm away and began retracing her steps to the backroom.

  “Umm, no, it’s not malnutrition,” he corrected, trying to suppress his growing irritation. “I hurt my hand, see?” He raised his injured hand, and she glanced at it over her shoulder. “Well, a more accurate definition would be that Luran hurt my hand. He didn’t tell me that you lot can har—”

  “Oh, Luran did this?” She glided over to him, smiling pleasantly. “Such a sweet young man. He’s the pride of our village, you know.” She picked up his hand and squeezed the knuckles, causing excruciating pain.

  “OW!” he seethed, “Why did you do that?!”

  “Don’t worry. Nothing is broken—only a bad bruise. Some cold treatment, and your hand should be fine.”

  “Should be fine? Shouldn’t you take a closer look?” he asked, but she wasn’t listening. The old woman had retreated into the backroom, and just as quickly as she had left, she returned with something in her hands.

  “This is a Shiver Stag antler,” she explained. Imbue some of your essence into this and apply it to your knuckles every few hours for 20 minutes.” She pushed it into his hands eagerly, like a con artist trying to sell faulty goods.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m a very busy woman! Out you go now,” she encouraged, marching him to the door and nudging him outside. Before he could protest, she slammed the door shut in his face. Well, that could have gone better. For a healer, she sure was harsh.

  He thought healers were supposed to be kind and patient—even if he was a human. At a loss, he stared down at the Shiver Stag antler that lay in his hands. It was just a section of the antler; the entire thing would have been far too big.

  If he hadn’t been told, there was no hope in hell he would have guessed this was part of an antler. It was only the tip; therefore, it didn’t have its telltale shape, but more mystifying was its color. It shimmered in shades of blue and white, reminiscent of ice. Simply dazzling to gaze upon. He imagined the antlers in their full form were a thing of unrivaled beauty. No doubt, they would be worth a small fortune back home.

  He sighed. Lucky they weren’t back in his world. If humans could push rhinos to the brink of extinction, for, let’s face it, very average-looking horns, there was no doubt they’d annihilate the Shiver Stag population for their majestic antlers. He turned the antler over in his hands, inspecting every corner. It was fascinating. The appearance told him it should be cold to the touch. Well, freezing to be more accurate, but he found it to be close to the temperature of his skin. Only when he injected his essence would its icy power activate.

  Nobody had shown him how to use his essence quite yet, but perhaps this was something he could figure out on his own. He’d got close to summoning electricity after all. Sitting against the side wall of the infirmary, he decided to give it a try. Closing his eyes, he clutched the Shiver Stag antler with a firm grip, searching for his pool of essence within, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack… blindfolded. He couldn’t see inside himself; he had to feel it. The more he tried focusing, the angrier he became. This was very frustrating.

  Switching his attention from essence, he rather impulsively turned his focus to electricity, calling forth a surge to his free hand. A spark within him flickered to life before it was quickly extinguished, followed by flashes of images from his death on that dreaded electric chair. He staggered to catch his breath. It really felt like he was reliving the experience. The pain wasn’t there, but the flashing images and emotions certainly were.

  Another failed attempt. But he could have sworn he felt something other than electricity. A trickle of unfamiliar power, spurring deep within. Could this be his essence? He almost didn’t notice it, but it emitted a subtle warmth that was only perceptible given the shivers the flashbacks induced. He decided to give it another go.

  Clearing his mind once more, he tried generating the subtlest form of electricity. Barely a spark. And the second it emerged, he searched for the mysterious power. It flowed out from somewhere that he couldn’t perceive, and gently pooled around the now-dying electricity.

  The flashbacks ensued, but he battled to push them aside. Electricity could wait. Today, a better understanding of essence was his goal. When the flashbacks dissipated like froth from a dying wave, he was pleased to note that he could still feel his essence, even though the electricity was well and truly gone.

  Initially, it seemed to resist his will unless he called forth electricity, flowing from some unseen place to his core. But the more times he activated his power, the more control he assumed. It wasn’t simply a case of moving the essence around. For each time he summoned electricity, the essence was consumed like logs burning in a fire.

  This meant that with each new attempt, more of the mysterious essence flowed out from within. After 30 or so painful minutes summoning sparks of electricity and enduring the accompanying flashbacks and cold sweats, he gained enough control to call forth his essence without summoning electricity.

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  It felt slightly less viscous than water, and although he could not see it, he imagined it to be red, probably because of the subtle warmth it had. It was only when his painful knuckles began to pulsate that he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, activating the Shiver Stag horn.

  Time to give this a go. Anxious about his first essence infusing, he delicately controlled the flow of essence out of his core and through his arm. It was a very odd sensation. He could feel his heartbeat in his arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it sure wasn’t comfortable either. If someone had told him it was poison traveling through his body and not essence, he’d have probably believed it, even though it was traveling the wrong way.

  The anticipation was intense, and he studied the horn scrupulously as the essence approached, now reaching his elbow. At this point, it was little more than a trickle, but he dared not increase the flow for fear of losing control. He would not so quickly forget his all-or-nothing approach to electricity, which ended in extreme discomfort.

  As the first few drops of essence edged into the horn, the tool remained lifeless, with no indication of its fantastical nature. Yet as he continued to inject the mystifying power, the horn’s temperature dropped, becoming cool, then cold, and finally, freezing. He was so amazed by the experience that it took him a while to realize he had to turn his essence off. Fortunately, the flow was slow, so it took but a moment for it to become still.

  He raised the antler to eye level to inspect it. It glowed a soft frosty blue, and as he breathed into it, his breath became condensation. What a marvel. This was one of the most incredible things he had ever experienced. If only Lily could see this. He let himself smile. She would have loved this.

  Fuelled by his victory, he yearned for more. He needed to overcome his block for electricity, and he needed a guide. Who that was, he had no idea, but he figured the best person to ask was Akesh. As the combat instructor of the clan, he was likely to either be his guide, or at the very least, be able to direct him to them.

  Thomas was relieved to find Akesh still in the training area. He had been at the infirmary for rather a long while, and the last thing he wanted was to go off on an hour-long search.

  Most of the warriors had retired from training for the day, but a few lingered, such as Krag and Elarissé. Krag had his back to him as he approached mid-spar, but Elarissé had him in fuel view. She snarled in his direction like an animal and he threw up a middle finger. She became puzzled, clearly not knowing what it meant.

  “How’s the hand?” Akesh inquired, not breaking eye contact from the duelling pair across the training field.

  “It’s okay. Thanks for asking. I’ll add you to the tiny list of people who actually care about how I’m doing. It’s, oh, I don’t know, about four strong currently,” he stated matter-of-factly. Akesh gave a muted laugh, still not turning to him.

  “Patience. Patience,” he counseled. “It will take time, but if you are persistent, you will cement yourself as much a part of this village as anyone. Perhaps more, if you can live up to Zerron’s expectations.”

  “But how can you be sure, master?” he questioned. He’d heard some of the others call Akesh master and thought he’d try it on for size. It felt ridiculous. He regretted saying it the moment the word left his lips.

  “Master, is it now?” Akesh asked, looking his way and raising an eyebrow with a warm smile. “I’ve not even begun teaching you yet, so you can’t call me master. That title instead would have to fall to Luran.”

  “Now that, I won’t be doing,” he affirmed, crossing his arms defiantly. Akesh turned his direction back to the duelling pair.

  “Besides, Akesh will do. I would never be so arrogant as to require anyone to call me “master.”

  “Very well,” Thomas acknowledged, returning to his previous line of questioning. “How can you be sure that they will accept me? I don’t know much of the history of you and the humans, but from what Fizo did tell me, it’s riddled with bloodshed. How can you expect me to overcome that? I fear such hatred won’t go away no matter how long I stay.”

  Akesh sighed, looking past the dueling warriors as if to cast his mind back.

  “We ekari are many things, Thomas. Passionate—certainly, stubborn—most definitely, but we are also fair. We find it difficult to adapt to big changes, and your arrival here is perhaps the biggest change this village has ever seen. So while you can’t expect to win everyone over in your first few weeks, you very much might in a few months or years.”

  “A few years?!” Thomas sputtered out. He wanted to launch into a verbal attack. A few years was far too long! He couldn’t sit around for a few years while groups of people badmouthed him from behind his back and tried to hinder his integration. He wasn’t at school anymore! But he bit his lips to prevent such an outburst. It was rude, and giving in to this desire would achieve nothing.

  In fact, it would likely lessen Akesh’s view of him, which he certainly didn’t want to do. While he appeared stern, the man was quite likable, and a powerful ally. He needed to keep him on side, so he selected his words more carefully.

  “A few years is rather a long time. I’m not sure I can wait that long. What can I do to make them accept me quicker?”

  “It’s simple,” Akesh explained, “Get stronger and fight for us. That’s all there really is to it. After your little display with Luran earlier, it’s abundantly clear you have the mind of a warrior. Nice strategy by the way, going for the wrists and exploiting the rules. Can’t say I expected that.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

  “You saw that, huh?”

  “Of course I did. It was quite the amusing show,” he trailed off. “Your skill with the sword is, of course, abysmal,” he continued, motioning with his hand, “but that can be sharpened. A keen mind is much more difficult to acquire. Prove yourself as a fellow warrior in arms, and all will have no choice but to accept you as one of their own.”

  Thomas dwelled on the idea. He was no stranger to violence. Mixed martial arts unlocked a side of him that he didn’t know he had, but this was different. In this context, a warrior killed, and he had no experience with that. Could he actually kill if it came down to it?

  “When you say prove yourself as a warrior… I take it you mean I have to kill?” he asked, pressing the Shimmer Stag horn more forcefully into his bruised knuckles. Akesh looked at him out of the corner of his eye before focusing back to the duelling warriors.

  “There’s more to being a warrior than taking life,” he explained. “Look around you. Look at this village,” he said, outstretching his arm. “Everyone here is happy and safe. And that is only made possible by us warriors. If we were to cease to exist. This village would topple. Maybe not in a week or a month, but eventually it would fall,” he said, smashing his fist into his cupped hand.

  “Our existence is vital for the survival of our people. Do we kill when we need to? Of course, but our primary objective is to protect, and there is nothing more honorable. Each of us would give our lives for this village. If you can do the same, you might as well have orange skin and horns, for you’re as much an ekari as anyone.”

  Akesh certainly had a way with words, skirting over the whole killing thing. To be a protector, well, it spoke to him on a fundamental level. He may not have fought with steel, but he was fiercely protective of his sister back home, and being separated from her ached his heart in a way that he couldn’t quite describe. It was like a part of him had died.

  If he couldn’t protect her any longer, maybe he could protect them.

  “What about her? Will she accept me?” he asked, pointing to Elarissé. Akesh turned his head to view the red-headed woman.

  “Without question,” he answered. “She has more reason to hate humans than most, so go easy on her… but her hatred will relent given time. She puts on a tough front, but there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

  He studied the fierce woman as she struck Krag’s shield repeatedly, trying to force her way through. The unyielding ferocity reminded him of her attitude towards humans. Despite what Akesh said, he couldn’t imagine a world where she would accept him.

  “Very well, then,” he said, sighing. “I will just do my best, I suppose.”

  “That’s all we ask,” Akesh maintained.

  “Speaking of trying my best, I’ve hit a bit of a wall with my electricity training. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. You guys seem to have an expert for everything, as I understand it. I’m curious. Who is going to teach me how to wield electricity? Is it you or someone else?” Akesh adjusted his belt buckle,

  “I’m afraid we don’t have anyone for that.”