In the Face of All Evil- 2

Students squirmed in their seats eagerly anticipating the lecture.  From the front of the crowded lecture hall the professor began to start the class.  Orion however, was not there, instead Orion was late. After repeatedly losing his direction,Orion quietly opened the classroom door and tried clandestinely take a seat in the back row, but before he could successfully sit down the professor noticed his tardiness.

“Young man standing in the back row, please come to the front of the class.” Simultaneously all the students’ heads turned to stare at him, their expressions a mix of amusement and pity. This was not the class to be late to. 

Orion knew it was useless to argue; he placed his books on his desk and marched toward the blackboard. The closer Orion walked the more the professor appeared less intimidating. His white hair tumbled down his small frame, his hands shook with arthritis, and his knuckles appeared painfully swollen. 

            “What is your name young man?” the professor asked.

            Orion swallowed, still conscious of the students gaping at him. “Orion Lambros”    

              “I see,” the professor replied raising his eyebrows, “rumor says the king will make you the next chief judge.  Orion was conscious of this rumor; he had heard it himself the day he arrived, when he walked into the university’s courtyard only to hear the bitter whisperings of envious courtiers of the King. But not desiring to bring any additional attention to himself or his current situation, Orion stared down at his feet and lied, “I was not aware of such a rumor.” He mentally traced the granite tiles with his eyes; each square carefully cut by a stonemason’s coarse hand. The stones were dark, dark like Melantha’s hair but more notably strong like her stolid personality.  Orion licked his lips letting his mind wandered back towards the last time he had spoken to her, four years ago, before she had been sent away to boarding school. She had been so strong then too. Suddenly the professor’s surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder jarred Orion’s hypnotic fantasy.

            “But surely you must have some idea of such rumor, given your age,” the professor said, then turned towards the class, pointed at Orion’s face, and continued, “I am willing to wager he cannot even grow a mustache.” The class laughed but the professor in a wave of his gnarled hand, curtailed their laughter. The professor then addressed Orion, putting his hand under the young student’s chin forcing Orion to meet his beady eyes. One student seated in the front with extraordinarily black hair move to tightly clench his fists, but Orion could only notice him as the professor forced Orion’s eyes to meet his own puffy ones.

 “I am also willing to wager you just want to sit down and be ignored for the rest of the class?”

Orion nodded, defeated. “I apologize for being late to your class Professor.” The professor’s face remained emotionless, the consequence of decades of witnessing bloody warfare, the product of giving the commands to send the young foot soldiers into the battle first. Quieter, feebler now, Orion’s voice was hardly a whisper, “I am truly sorry,” he swallowed as the color rose to his cheeks, “it will not happen again, please.” The professor took one more look into Orion’s desperate expression then turned toward the class.   

            “Class,” the professor announced as he stepped away from his young student and stared at the group of pupils with bloodshot eyes, “I want to demonstrate the first lesson of warfare to you.” Now fully engaged in the class discussion the rest of the students, except the one with exceptionally black hair, edged forward in their seats.

“Show no mercy.”

 “Excuse me?” Orion stammered.

“Get out,” the professor hissed as the corners of his thin lips curled upwards. 

More than anything Orion wanted to protest, to shout at the injustice or the professor’s evident lack of understanding, but his days with Donovan had taught him to control his emotions well. With all the dignity Orion could summon he respectfully left the room.

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They were at a funeral, Melantha’s mother’s funeral to be precise. In the end Kira’s hallucinations were victorious. The images of psychosis were too frightening for even their creator to manage. She drank poison one night while her daughter slept peacefully by her side.  Although Melantha was not supposed to be near her mother Lander awoke to the Melantha’s terrified cries of “mama.”  

Orion did not give any attention to the funeral services. His young mind had wandered from watching the dragonflies with oddly transparent bodies to an occasional toward Melantha. She had refused to sit with her family in the congregation. Instead she chose to stand underneath a large tree whose leaves were turning yellow, her back toward the funeral, her eyes scanning the distance.  Perplexed at her behavior and incredibly bored with the dragonflies Orion finally resolved to swing his feet back and forth on his chair, much to the annoyance of Donovan. At last, after what seemed like ages of sitting the speakers ended their eulogies and the family arose to speak to attendants. Although Donovan was a Chief Judge and supposed to be disconnected from emotional matters, it was appropriate for him to give his consolations. The Chief Judge joined the crowd leaving his young charge alone. For a moment Orion thought it would be better if he obediently waited for his teacher to return, but he quickly decided against such an idea. Quickly, Orion came up with a reason to speak to her: he, like Donovan needed to offer his sympathies to her.  Bravely the young boy slithered off his chair, pushed his red hair away from his striking green eyes, and walked toward the tree.

“I offer you my condolences,” Orion said, reciting the phrase he had often heard Donovan say during times of sadness.

Melantha’s grief quickly turned to indignation, “Did he tell you to say that?” she snapped.

“No,” Orion angrily retorted, but immediately he regretted becoming angry at her. Uncomfortably Orion shifted his weight from side to side. He looked down at the grass, not sure what to say next, and remained quiet. He was not expecting het to be anger.  

“I miss her Orion,” Melantha sniffed as tears dripped down her face into her matted black hair.  

“I know,” Orion replied simply but the remark didn’t seem to suffice. Melantha’s expression still appeared vacant and cold. “She loved you.”

Melantha nodded in agreement but continued to stare out towards the dark mountains. Their darkness seemed to enchant her. Their far-off wilderness, full of untouched potential and beasts only heard about in fables, gave her comfort in ways no one else could understand. From his place beside her Orion watched Melantha’s wild violet eyes piece through the fog to find something new in the distance, something that gave her peace. In that moment, Orion longed to see what she did; he wanted to know why the darkness of the beyond fascinated her. Why did she choose to stand underneath this tree and stare outward into the uncertain realms of the mountains, when her family grieved together? Suddenly, Melantha slid her strangely warm hand into his. Orion could get in trouble for this. Quickly Orion glanced over his shoulder only to find Donovan very busy still consoling the family. Happy that his teacher was preoccupied, Orion adjusted his hand in Melantha’s causing their fingers to intertwine. Together they stood hands clasped tightly and both gazed towards the wild, unforgiving mountains as the gray fog rolled in around them.

            A large hand coming toward Orion’s face brought him halted his memory. From his seat outside the classroom, Orion craned his neck upwards to see who the hand belonged to. Standing in front of him was the student with the exceptionally black hair.

            “Professor Stavos is an idiot,” he said tossing his head backward.

            Orion smiled as the dark haired student helped pull Orion to his feet.  The dark haired student was a fearsome man to behold.  His entire presence displayed sheer strength. At over six feet tall, Orion barely reached the student’s shoulders. The student’s muscles were clearly outlined despite the long black robes the university students were required to wear. On his right lapel the student wore a small pin with an overlapping archer’s bow and sword indicating he was part of the military combat school.

            “I’m Basil,” he said grinning.

 “I’m Orion.”   

“Nice to meet you Orion,” Basil replied as he handed Orion a stack of books, “you left these in class.”

“Thanks,” Orion said graciously taking the books from the bear-like hand. “I thought I would never see them again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Basil responded, “Red-eyed Stavos is always hard on new students the first day. He thinks it will make them tougher.” Orion, nodded, unsure of how to continue. Until now he usually had just been left alone by others because they were either too jealous or too indifferent to care about him. But Orion did not want to ruin a chance of friendship.

            “I thought it was just me,” Orion said.

            “No, you should have seen what Stavos did to me on my first day. He made me stand in front of the class the whole hour in a skirt on because he thought I ‘gossiped like a woman’.”

Orion laughed, “I supposed I was lucky then.”

Basil nodded, “You’re assignment is in the front, I think it has something to do with frontal assault tactics, but I am not sure.”

Orion stomach sank, it was the first day of class and already he was confused, Donovan would not be happy.

Noticing Orion’s disheartened expression Basil continued, “There is a group of us who meet in the library to study. You should join us.”

“Thanks,” Orion replied, thankful to have found someone to talk to, “I will.”

And it was in this moment that Orion’s true education began.

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