Voice of Power (The Spoken Mage Book 1)

by Melanie Cellier

  With her sword tip resting against his heart, he grinned, barely out of breath, and called, “Yield.”

  Lorcan actually applauded, and Thornton gave a dry, “Excellent.” Possibly the first time I had heard him give such high praise.

  Knowing my luck, I’ll be up next, I thought, but to my relief I didn’t hear my name called.

  Saffron and Clarence went next, and the northern girl looked beyond relieved when she heard her pairing.

  Finnian clapped her on the back as he moved back to join us. “Run him through,” he said cheerily, but she ignored him, her eyes losing focus in the way they did when she was preparing herself mentally for a bout.

  Clarence lasted far longer than Araminta had done since Saffron was far less skilled than Lucas. But she still managed to sneak her blade past his defenses in the end, landing a sharp blow to his chest. The tall boy quickly yielded, mostly looking relieved to have it all over. From his face, he knew he had been lucky in the draw.

  Both Coralie and I remained, but I didn’t much like my chances of being paired with my friend. Not when all four of my least favorite year mates also remained. When the next two names called were Natalya and Coralie, my heart sank the rest of the way into my boots.

  Coralie cast me a sympathetic grimace, aware that Natalya would be a far easier opponent than either Calix or Weston, who both still remained. But a moment later, when she stood facing the Devoras girl, her sole concentration was on her own bout. And she did better than I expected, lasting several minutes and even landing a glancing hit against Natalya’s arm before being forced to yield to a sword tip at her throat.

  Natalya looked pleased with herself as her brother and Lavinia congratulated her, but Coralie looked reasonably cheerful as well. Her face fell when Thornton announced the next bout, however. Calix and Lavinia.

  “Ouch.” She winced sympathetically at me, but my face seemed to have frozen, and I couldn’t respond. There were only two of us left. Me and Weston.

  I didn’t even see Calix beat Lavinia as fear washed through me. I was going to fail. And then I was going to be executed.

  But as Lavinia called, “Yield,” and Thornton made yet more notes on his parchment, my eyes fell on Lucas. He looked between me and Weston, and then to Thornton. I couldn’t read his expression, but he was certainly contemplating something.

  And then sudden anger drove out my fear. Thornton, my disapproving Devoras instructor, had claimed the bouts were drawn randomly. But what were the chances that I would be drawn last? And with Weston as my partner. Just like that first class nearly a year ago when I was massacred. I had been expecting to be set up for failure, but my concentration had been on the composition class—the place where I was different. I had been looking in the wrong direction.

  The rage racing through me was energizing, and I strode forward as soon as Lavinia and Calix rejoined the group, not even waiting for my name to be called. My hand gripped my sword hilt so hard, my knuckles turned white.

  Weston sauntered behind me, a grin on his face. This would be nothing like Lucas and Araminta. The prince had shown no mercy for his opponent, but neither had he shown any cruelty. Weston, on the other hand, was clearly looking forward to cutting me to ribbons. Preferably with a generous serving of humiliation on the side.

  I dropped into the correct stance and brought my weapon up in front of me. Weston took his time assuming his own position, but I didn’t let my concentration waver. Whatever happened, I was going to hold my own for long enough to achieve a pass. If they meant to pass Araminta—and surely they did—they would be forced to pass me, too.

  Weston began without warning, lunging forward in a fast feint. I pulled back just in time, using a clumsy block that only just deflected his blade. He grinned and launched forward again immediately. I skipped even further back, and the sounds from the rest of the group faded away.

  My attention funneled in on Weston, and I found myself settling into a rhythm I had never experienced before. My muscles moved before I even directed them, producing each block as needed. The attacks came so fast, though, that I had no opportunity to return any of them. It was all I could do to stay out of reach of his blade and keep my own weapon in hand.

  When he landed a blow—a hard whack to my left arm that was clearly designed to hurt rather than force a yield—I focused even more on keeping out of his reach. I danced my way around the training yard, retreating from him.

  “This is supposed to be an exam in combat,” he taunted, his voice too low to be heard by anyone else, “not in running away.”

  I didn’t waste my breath replying. Everyone present knew Weston was a superior swordsman to me. If it was true they would all find themselves on the front lines, he would learn soon enough the value of retreat in the face of superior force. Or not. I wouldn’t be weeping any tears for him either way.

  I saw an opening and lunged forward. Too late, I realized it had been a trick. Unable to pull back, I instead reacted on instinct, as I had done when attacked in the city. Dropping my sword, I fell forward into a roll, spinning underneath his flashing blade and popping up behind him.

  I drove my elbow back into his spine as hard as I could. He grunted and stumbled, dropping to one knee. Spinning, I leaned over and snatched my own weapon from the dust. Bringing it up as fast as I could, I lunged for his throat.

  He swayed away from me, only just pulling his sword up in time for a weak block. I pressed forward with a stronger attack, but somehow he got his feet under him and blocked me again.

  His eyes held an ugly look now, and he battered my sword away and drove forward. Clearly he had been holding back before, playing with me. Against his new fury, I held out for bare seconds, before his sword tip rested against my throat.

  I tried to yield, but the pressure of his sword point increased, and I started to choke. Still he pressed harder.

  “Weston.” The quiet voice that cut across the training yard didn’t belong to either of our instructors. But Weston instantly dropped his point, stepping back from me. He turned to look at Lucas with narrowed eyes, but the prince met his look coolly, not backing down. Authority and confidence radiated from the royal, and Weston’s eyes dropped. He returned to the group.

  I took a moment to breathe beautiful fresh air, coughing several times before stooping to retrieve my dropped sword.

  “Well,” said Thornton at last, “that was different.”

  I grinned at him. “My specialty.”

  Lorcan gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, and Finnian actually laughed out loud, clapping me on the back when I reached my friends.

  “Good show.”

  “You did notice I lost, right?” I shook my head at him.

  “Well, you were always going to lose,” he said with unabated cheerfulness. “But at least you did it with style.”

  I rolled my eyes at Coralie who looked like she didn’t know whether to join him in laughing or look horrified.

  “Are you all right?” She gestured at my throat, and I winced.

  “A little tender but, everything considered, I expected a lot worse.”

  “I think he did, too,” said Finnian, his voice thoughtful.

  “What?” Saffron’s brow creased in confusion.

  “I think you took Weston by surprise. He expected to have it more his own way.”

  “Him and Thornton both, no doubt,” I muttered, and Finnian gave me a sharper look than I liked. His joking manner made it easy to forget the sharp mind hiding behind it.

  “That was the last bout,” I said quickly. “The exam’s over, right? Let’s go find some lunch.”

  “Wait, we have to hear our results first,” said Coralie.

  “What, right now?” I asked.

  “Of course. It’s not like they have to go and mark papers,” she replied.

  Lorcan and Thornton stood some way apart from us all, talking quietly, while we all hung around in varying states of suspense. I saw Thornton’s eyes dwell on me b
efore sliding to Araminta. His face twisted, and then he nodded once.

  Lorcan turned to us all and clapped his hands loudly.

  “Congratulations, first years. You have all passed.”

  A murmur passed through the group, and Araminta turned pink with pleasure.

  “Your rankings are as follows.” Thornton paused dramatically, but I didn’t care about my ranking as long as I had passed.

  “First: Dariela.”

  Natalya and Lavinia cheered and congratulated their friend, apparently pleased to have a girl leading combat.

  “Second: Lucas.”

  They gave nearly as enthusiastic congratulations to the prince, who looked neither pleased nor displeased. I wondered if he was secretly disappointed not to lead the class. Unlike Dariela, his pairing had hardly given him the chance to showcase his skill.

  Thornton read out the rest of the list without pausing. “Weston, Finnian, Calix, Natalya, Saffron, Lavinia, Coralie, Elena, Clarence, Araminta.”

  Weston stalked away immediately, his friends trailing behind him, several shooting glares at me as they passed.

  But I was far too elated to care. I had passed. Even Araminta had passed. It seemed like a miracle.

  “It looks like your tutelage paid off,” I said to Finnian with a grin. “I hope you aren’t disappointed in your own ranking. You came higher than a couple of those who actually won their bouts.”

  “You observe me full of elation.” He grinned a little wryly.

  “Thank goodness it’s over, I say.” Coralie actually sounded a little bit like her cheerful self. “Only one more to go.”

  Chapter 27

  It turned out to be far too early for lunch, but Finnian forbade us all from doing any last-minute studying.

  “You’ll only confuse your brains,” he assured us. “And increase your blood pressure.”

  Instead we all sat in the dining hall, and he made it his role to get us all laughing, despite the stress. Older students trickled in around us, some looking visibly relieved and others somewhat battered. By the time the servers arrived, the dining hall had acquired its usual hum.

  Coralie had fallen silent, however, her eyes on a group of particularly bruised-looking second years.

  “I’ve been so focused on passing, I haven’t thought much about how it’s all going to change next year.” She turned back to face us, gesturing slightly at the group with her head. “But just look at them. Terrifying.”

  I swiveled to frown in the direction of the older students. “What do you mean?”

  “Next year we start in the arena.” Saffron shivered.

  It took me a moment to remember the significance of that.

  “Weapons and compositions.” I whispered the words. “Combined. Great.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from flashing over to where Lucas sat. I had recently had some experience on combining combat and composing, and it had nearly ended in disaster. And that was with non-mage opponents.

  At the Academy, my opponents would only have to rip a parchment while I had to somehow spout a whole list of restrictions and parameters. Or risk being hauled back before the Mage Council for destroying one of my fellow trainees.

  “Don’t look so pale, Elena,” said Finnian. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered, but a platter of roast meat distracted me. Apparently the Academy put on something of a feast for the students on exam day.

  “Dig in,” said Finnian. “We’re not done yet.”

  When we finished our meal and headed for our second exam, I found myself envying the rest of my friends. They got to move as a group, drawing strength from each other’s presence, while I split off to approach a small classroom I had never entered before.

  All of the year levels took the written portion of their exams together in the largest classroom. I had peeked in earlier and seen it lined with individual desks. Jocasta and Walden would supervise the written portion, and then each year level would take turns composing in front of Lorcan and Redmond. The first years would go first again, and the fourth years wouldn’t be finished until just before the evening meal.

  I wished I could complete my exam questions under the friendly gaze of Walden, but his supervision of the main group meant the only instructor I actually liked was guaranteed not to be on my panel. When I knocked on the door of the room where I was to be examined, a voice called for me to enter.

  Inside I found a row of chairs, all already occupied. Lorcan had been joined by Jessamine, the University Head, with two other black-robed mages beside her. I recognized them from my never-ending stream of observers. The next panel member didn’t surprise me—of course Redmond would want to be here to glare at me the entire time—but the two beside him did. Perhaps he had arranged for their presence, no doubt drawing moral support from the presence of his fellow Stantorn, Duke Casimir, Head of the Creators, and their ally Duchess Annika of Devoras, Head of the Growers. Both had voted in favor of my execution at that memorable council meeting.

  I scanned the line up again. Lorcan, Jessamine, and her fellow academics had the superior numbers. Lorcan’s doing, no doubt. I didn’t know if my passing or failing could come down to a vote, but I could only hope their presence would be enough.

  I stood in front of the examiners, no chair or desk provided for my use. Redmond stepped forward and handed me a parchment full of words.

  “You will read each question aloud and then give your answer. You will be timed.”

  “Overall, or for each question?” I asked.

  He narrowed his eyes at my apparent impertinence, and reluctantly replied, “Overall.”

  I nodded, and he sat back down. I should be able to take my time on any unexpected questions then. I wasn’t going to let his hostility intimidate me into rushing and getting the answers wrong.

  I cleared my throat and read out the first question. The list seemed endless, but once I started, I fell into a rhythm. At first, I looked only at Lorcan and Jessamine and the University observers, but as my confidence grew, I let my gaze roam over the other three as well.

  All of my extra study seemed to have paid off, and I found an answer springing easily to mind for each question they asked. Some of them were more complicated than I had expected, though, given Coralie’s assurances that they went easy on us first years. I spared a quick, concerned thought for Araminta.

  In fact, there were so many questions that I felt a brief moment of unease for all my friends. They only had an hour for the written portion of the exam, and I couldn’t imagine how anyone could actually write out answers to all of these in that time. I actually had a small advantage being able to speak my answers at a faster pace.

  As the questions continued, my voice grew hoarse, and one of the University mages brought me a glass of water. While I drank it down greedily, I saw the two of them exchanging a glance and observed a brief whispered exchange with Jessamine and Lorcan. The latter then directed a hard stare at Redmond, who carefully avoided catching his eye.

  I frowned but pushed it all out of my mind. This wasn’t the moment to be distracted. When I finally reached the end of the questions, only just within my allotted hour, I strode forward and returned the parchment to Redmond. I couldn’t help giving him a satisfied smirk as I did so. I dared any of them to fail me after that performance.

  Redmond took the parchment with an unpleasant look.

  “Well?” I asked. “Did I pass?”

  He cleared his throat and glanced at the duke and duchess beside him.

  “Of course you did, Elena,” said Lorcan from the other end of the lineup. “An excellent job. And that despite the mix up. Very well done, indeed.”

  “Mix up?” asked Duke Casimir coldly.

  Lorcan nodded at him. “You’ve no doubt forgotten your own first year exams, Casimir, and naturally you would not be familiar with the questions for this year. But I had understood Elena was to receive the same questions as her year mates. However it seems that somehow both the first an
d second year questions ended up on her sheet. A strange occurrence, but clerical mix ups are an inevitability, I’m told. Of course, we generally try to avoid them at exam time, and I assure you I shall look into the mistake personally.”

  Redmond was still carefully not looking at his head, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  Mostly I just felt relief that my friends had been facing a far shorter and simpler list of questions. And somewhere under all that was the stirrings of pride. Lorcan had just said that I passed a second year level exam.

  “Unfortunate, indeed, although it doesn’t seem to have discomposed her.” Casimir eyed me coldly. “But while theory is all very well, it is useless on its own. We have all been sitting here for the last hour because the girl dare not write without blowing us all up. The real question is, can she compose?”

  Lorcan nodded. “I propose we proceed immediately to the practical portion of the exam. Redmond and I will need to be leaving soon to supervise the performance of the rest of our students.”

  I straightened, the pride and elation draining away. I hadn’t quite passed first year yet.

  “Very well,” said Casimir. “Let us proceed. I believe three of us were to each come up with an exercise for the girl.”

  Lorcan nodded. “We were pleased to allow our guests to participate in such a way.”

  I bit back a frown. No doubt the honor had gone to the visitors with the highest rank. Jessamine, Annika, and Casimir then. One friend and two foes. I eyed Jessamine’s anticipatory expression and amended the thought. One non-foe and two foes. I would hardly count Jessamine as a friend.

  She leaned forward toward me, gesturing at the man beside her without looking at him. He stood.

  “I understand you have been conducting extra research on the healing discipline.”

  Annika and Casimir both frowned, and I suspected this was news to them. I struggled to keep my expression straight, half-expecting Lorcan to protest on my behalf—none of the other first years would be getting discipline specific composition assignments. But he looked almost as eager as Jessamine and made no move to override her words.