Read The Last Days of Lorien for Free Online
Authors: Pittacus Lore
like me who are busting our asses to keep it that way. Without the grid, we’d be sitting ducks. And people just laugh at us.”
“Calm down,” I said, taken aback by how angry he’d gotten. “You’re acting like I just said Pittacus Lore’s a big loser or something.”
He scowled. “Yeah, well,” he said. “You probably think that too, don’t you?”
I paused. “No,” I said. “I mean, not exactly.”
Actually, I had no idea what the famous Pittacus Lore was like at all. I’d never seen him—even the statue of Pittacus outside the school wasn’t of the current Pittacus, but of one of the old ones, probably from like a thousand years ago or something.
The current Elders had the same names as the original nine who had supposedly discovered the Phoenix Stones all those years ago, but they were otherwise many times removed from the Elders of legend. The names were passed along like titles, along with the Elders’ special abilities, to specially picked successors who took on their forebearers’ role of watching over Lorien, of safeguarding our environment, and of protecting our traditions and way of life. I knew that they made occasional trips to the LDA to consult with the Mentor Cêpan and the instructors, but I had never seen them.
Aside from these brief interactions with the world, the Elders had long ago removed themselves from the day-to-day activities of life on Lorien. Even their exact whereabouts were unknown: some Loric said they lived deep in the mountains of Feldsmore, while others claimed they lived in a giant glass fortress deep at the bottom of the Terrax Ocean. Those were just some of the more plausible theories.
The only thing I knew was that it didn’t seem like the Elders did very much at all, and that most people at the LDA, along with the rest of the Lorien defense operation, were telling themselves stories about prophecies that would never come true.
CHAPTER 6
On my eleventh day at the LDA, I was woken by Rapp tugging on My arm.
“Come on, Sandor,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”
“Your mom’s a chimæra’s butt,” I mumbled irritably, shoving him away and pulling my thin, scratchy sheet over my head.
This had become a morning ritual between us. He’d try to wake me up, reminding me that it was my Solemn Loric Duty to rise and shine, and I’d come up with more and more colorful ways to tell him to leave me the hell alone. We were both getting sick of the routine.
“Fine,” said Rapp, turning to go. “I’ll just go to City Center by myself.”
I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. “City Center?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I saw Orkun at the commissary, she said class was cancelled and that we’re supposed to report to transport immediately. She wants us to use the time to do grid maintenance.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I was already out of bed, hurriedly throwing on my tunic, excited by the chance to go into the city.
He just snorted as I checked myself out in the dull, tiny mirror over my dresser, trying in vain to flatten the irregular ridges of my cowlicked hair with spit.
“Dude,” he said. “You think a little primping’s gonna make any difference? All the girls in the city just stare right through us. Our tunics may as well be invisibility cloaks.”
I knew he was right, but I groaned anyway, turned from my reflection and headed out the door as he followed behind me. It was hard to be too upset. No, grid maintenance wasn’t all that exciting or anything, but still. We were going to the city.
We arrived at the transport hangar and got into the academy’s only available two-seater, a teardrop-shaped vehicle some of the other students referred to as the Egg. I watched from the passenger seat as Rapp spoke into a receiver on the dashboard, programming our journey into City Center according to the assignment that Orkun had given him. “Sector Three twenty-nine, Security nodule H, Patch Three.” He flipped through a binder,
“Calm down,” I said, taken aback by how angry he’d gotten. “You’re acting like I just said Pittacus Lore’s a big loser or something.”
He scowled. “Yeah, well,” he said. “You probably think that too, don’t you?”
I paused. “No,” I said. “I mean, not exactly.”
Actually, I had no idea what the famous Pittacus Lore was like at all. I’d never seen him—even the statue of Pittacus outside the school wasn’t of the current Pittacus, but of one of the old ones, probably from like a thousand years ago or something.
The current Elders had the same names as the original nine who had supposedly discovered the Phoenix Stones all those years ago, but they were otherwise many times removed from the Elders of legend. The names were passed along like titles, along with the Elders’ special abilities, to specially picked successors who took on their forebearers’ role of watching over Lorien, of safeguarding our environment, and of protecting our traditions and way of life. I knew that they made occasional trips to the LDA to consult with the Mentor Cêpan and the instructors, but I had never seen them.
Aside from these brief interactions with the world, the Elders had long ago removed themselves from the day-to-day activities of life on Lorien. Even their exact whereabouts were unknown: some Loric said they lived deep in the mountains of Feldsmore, while others claimed they lived in a giant glass fortress deep at the bottom of the Terrax Ocean. Those were just some of the more plausible theories.
The only thing I knew was that it didn’t seem like the Elders did very much at all, and that most people at the LDA, along with the rest of the Lorien defense operation, were telling themselves stories about prophecies that would never come true.
CHAPTER 6
On my eleventh day at the LDA, I was woken by Rapp tugging on My arm.
“Come on, Sandor,” he said. “We’re going to be late.”
“Your mom’s a chimæra’s butt,” I mumbled irritably, shoving him away and pulling my thin, scratchy sheet over my head.
This had become a morning ritual between us. He’d try to wake me up, reminding me that it was my Solemn Loric Duty to rise and shine, and I’d come up with more and more colorful ways to tell him to leave me the hell alone. We were both getting sick of the routine.
“Fine,” said Rapp, turning to go. “I’ll just go to City Center by myself.”
I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. “City Center?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I saw Orkun at the commissary, she said class was cancelled and that we’re supposed to report to transport immediately. She wants us to use the time to do grid maintenance.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I was already out of bed, hurriedly throwing on my tunic, excited by the chance to go into the city.
He just snorted as I checked myself out in the dull, tiny mirror over my dresser, trying in vain to flatten the irregular ridges of my cowlicked hair with spit.
“Dude,” he said. “You think a little primping’s gonna make any difference? All the girls in the city just stare right through us. Our tunics may as well be invisibility cloaks.”
I knew he was right, but I groaned anyway, turned from my reflection and headed out the door as he followed behind me. It was hard to be too upset. No, grid maintenance wasn’t all that exciting or anything, but still. We were going to the city.
We arrived at the transport hangar and got into the academy’s only available two-seater, a teardrop-shaped vehicle some of the other students referred to as the Egg. I watched from the passenger seat as Rapp spoke into a receiver on the dashboard, programming our journey into City Center according to the assignment that Orkun had given him. “Sector Three twenty-nine, Security nodule H, Patch Three.” He flipped through a binder,