The Black Stars by Dan Krokos Read Free Book Online Page A

he knew what Tom meant. Mason didn’t feel prepared either. Only a few months ago they were trying to take back the Egypt from Tremist hands.… Now they were here to learn from them? All the while executing a secret mission that Mason didn’t know how to begin.
    They followed the line through turn after turn. The walls in each section were made from different materials: some walls were polished metal, some were stone, some were glass, many of them glowed softly, providing dim ambient light. It was comfortable, warm, and inviting. Mason took that as a good sign.
    Soon the line on the floor began to pulse faster, which probably meant they were getting closer. Mason’s heart rate began to rise along with the line; thankfully he no longer wore the mechanism that so helpfully warned him to keep his vitals in check. The tail of his jacket touched against the back of his thighs weirdly, distracting him. Focus, Stark. You’re behind enemy lines.
    The line ended at a large set of double doors carved from dark alien wood, with whorls and spirals in the grain. If he unfocused his eyes slightly, he could just make out the details of some ancient battlefield depicted in the whorls, but as soon as he thought he saw something, his eyes would refocus.
    Mason and Tom stopped in unison.
    â€œUh … do we knock?” Tom asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Mason replied. He lifted his fist to knock, then lowered it.
    â€œWell we can’t just stand here.”
    â€œI’m thinking —”
    The doors opened under their own power, cutting him off. Before them was an enormous hall, with rows of benches to the left and right of a central aisle, almost like in an ancient church. A very wide ancient church.
    The rows were filled with rhadjen, Tremist around his age, some younger and some older. On the left side of the room, some wore their hair in high ponytails, like Reckful did. Over half of them had dark red hair, and their black robes had crimson accents on the collars and wrists. To the right of the aisle, the rhadjen were like the familiar Rhadgast he already knew, like Merrin and the king—mostly purple or violet hair, with purple accents on their robes. As far as Mason could tell, the hair colors were natural, and having purple hair did not necessarily mean you were Stone, especially since Merrin had purple hair; she was not a Stone, or even a rhadjen. Maybe once you chose a side, some were more likely to dye their hair to fit their new identity.
    At the other end of the hall, a Tremist stood on an elevated platform. He wore neither red nor purple, but gray, like Mason and Tom. Two more Tremist were with him on the platform: the red one sat near his right, the other on his left. They were clearly the heads of each group of Rhadgast and wore the colors of their side.
    The rhadjen all turned in their seats at once, staring at Mason and Tom, who were frozen just past the doorway. Then the room exploded into chatter.
    The rhadjen were talking to each other loudly, but Mason could only hear snippets: That’s them, the humans are here, why are humans here, they saved the Will, I don’t care, they’ve met the king, they know the king, Mason Stark, he doesn’t look tough.
    The chatter seemed to go on for hours, but it was really only seconds. The gray Tremist on the platform suddenly lifted one booted foot, then stomped it on the floor. Mason could see the shock wave spread out from the boot as it rippled the dust in the air. Mason’s ears popped and wind buffeted his face. The doors slammed shut behind him.

    â€œWhat a wonderful im pression you’ve made on our two new brothers tonight, students.” The gray Rhadgast did not have gray hair: his hair was a mix of red and purple. If the colors were any indication, and unnatural like Mason assumed, then he was the leader of the school and could therefore not take a side.
    â€œSuch discipline,” he added.
    No one spoke.