Residue by Laury Falter

If he was offering his hand to me I figured he would be friendly, sympathetic to my being new to the class. His next comment dispelled that illusion. “I don’t go easy in sparring.”
    I laughed through my nose, sarcastically, and shook his hand. I was getting the instinct that Ms. Boudreaux already knew this.
    “ Begin,” came her voice, commanding, unwavering.
    Emery didn’t close his eyes, though it was fairly clear that he didn’t need to. He had a solid grasp of his skills and didn’t require the extra method of focus. He didn’t hold his stone in his hand either. His family stone, a golden rutilated quartz known to affect the respiratory system, hung from his neck on a silver chain. I noticed with irony that it did glint in the light.
    I waited, uncomfortable beneath his stare, Jameson’s stare, the entire class.
    The worst part was that I didn’t know what to wait for, having no idea how he might attack. I even paid special attention to the temperature until I started to feel silly.
    Having reached the end of my patience, I made a demand that I’d quickly regret.
    “ Well, come on already,” I grumbled. “Let’s get on with it.”
    A few of the students snickered at my blatant attempt to be the instigator until Ms. Boudreaux shushed them.
    Emery then spoke in a chilling whisper: “Incantatio clausa faucibus.”
    Faucibus…faucibus…Half my mind raced to translate it, the other half harangued me for not paying more attention to my mother’s Latin quizzes.
    Then the word came to me.
    Throat.
    And that was when I begin to feel it. A pressure at the front of my throat. Gradually worsening, the pressure reached around to the back of my neck until it felt as if hands were fitted around my throat, squeezing closed. On impulse, I made the effort to remove them but my fingers grabbed only air. Quickly, just before my airway was blocked entirely, I drew in a breath, searching for something to stop the sensation.
    The pressure tightened.
    I made an attempt to draw in air, felt my chest cave in, felt my lungs react, no air entered. My throat remained closed.
    My mind raced for an answer, anything that might stop Emery’s attack, and it was this effort that I believe distracted me from entirely seeing what happened next.
    A commotion started to my left, bodies shuffled to the side though in no particular order. They seemed to be avoiding something. The sound of whatever it was that hit the wall there still resounded through the room, rattling the floorboards and shaking the entire structure we were in.
    Then I could breathe again, recognizing this while drawing in a labored, hoarse gulp. Arching my neck back, I took another deep breath, this one filling my lungs with cool, delicious air. I took several more of them while the room steadied.
    Regaining my awareness, I looked to my left, curious what had occurred there in the midst of my sparring match. Maybe another one broke out? I wondered.
    I couldn’t have been more wrong.
    I found my opponent there slumped against the wall. His limbs sprawled out, his head wobbling, eyes blinking to recover his sight. The movement I’d seen in that direction had been from the other students dodging Emery’s body as it had been flung toward them.
    Unable to understand how he’d gotten there, I searched for the reason. Only then did I realize that no one was staring at me any longer. All heads were turned in the opposite direction, to where I’d been standing before entering the circle of students.
    I followed their concentration to where Jameson was poised in a lunge. His right arm was extended, his palm facing me. No…facing Emery. His other hand clutched Charlotte’s arm, channeling her ability.
    Then I pieced together what had happened…
    Jameson had just stepped in and defended me.
     

 
    6 THE PLEA
     
    He hadn’t planned it.
    That much I was certain of as Jameson rocked back to a standing position and released Charlotte’s arm. Yet, he retained his firm