by T K White
“Favor? You don’t even know me. You’ve no idea where I’m taking you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Anywhere is better than where I’ve come from.”
The woman’s eyes showed a bit of understanding. “Some of the people we recruit come from troubled homes.” She reached over and laid a hand on Grishelda’s knee. “You don’t have to be frightened anymore.”
Grishelda scoffed. “I was never frightened. I was angry.” Her tone darkened at the word.
The woman smiled politely. “Well, I’m very sure we’re lucky to have you. This is quite new, what we’re doing. But it could become the norm throughout the realm. In fact, we hope it does.”
The carriage halted.
Grishelda sat up straighter, trying to get a look out the covered window. “What are you talking about? Am I to be a slave?”
The woman opened the carriage door, and Grishelda’s eyes took in the scene before her. Big iron gates opened to reveal a mansion floating in the sky. Grishelda stretched her gaze, searching for what held it up, but there was nothing.
“It’s all magic, I assure you.”
Water poured down from the mansion into a giant pool. Trees grew in abundance, almost reaching up to the building in the sky. Beanstalks grew so tall, they appeared to reach the sun. Beasts flew through the air, and no one batted an eye.
“What is this place?”
“Welcome to Mageia, the Magic Academy.”
Grishelda tried to keep pace with the woman as they walked toward the house.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Jemma, the head of the school.” The woman waved down a boy around Grishelda’s age. “Gerard, please fetch her bags!”
“My bags?” Grishelda frowned. “But I don’t . . .”
“Oh, don’t worry. Your mother had your things sent.”
Grishelda came to a screeching halt.
Jemma, ever oblivious, kept walking, pointing out places of interest. “That’s the pool where our students like to go for a relaxing swim.” She pointed to where the waterfall ended. “If you need exercise, we have plenty of beanstalks to climb. Just don’t climb too high. The giants really don’t like it. Oh, and if you ever need anything not provided, Gerard can be so helpful in obtaining items for our . . .”
Jemma trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder to see Grishelda rooted in place. “What’s the matter? Keep up, now. We have much to do.”
“I’m not going anywhere my mother sent me.” A feeling of despair overtook Grishelda. For that fleeting period of time, she had actually believed she’d escaped Eva. She’d been naive. Grishelda should have known better than to think she could ever escape her mother’s stringent grasp.
Jemma’s expression transformed into pity. She wrapped an arm around Grishelda’s shoulders. “Your mother. I take it she wasn’t exactly easy to grow up with?”
Grishelda swallowed. “Try I barely survived her.”
“It was rather odd when she insisted we knock you unconscious. She said you wouldn’t come otherwise. But she was very insistent that you needed to learn how to use your magic. She was also insistent that you were unteachable.”
As much as she wanted to argue, her mother had been right. Anything Eva wanted her to do, she was likely to do the opposite. They would have had to bind and gag her. As for the comment about being unteachable, Grishelda very much wished she had something to punch. She wasn’t unteachable; her mother was a terrible instructor.
Jemma withdrew her arm with a final pat on Grishelda’s shoulder. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. You stay for one week, and if you hate it, you’re free to leave. I won’t notify your mother. I won’t force you to stay. You’re old enough to make your own choices.”
This seemed like a trap. A splash of water hit Grishelda and she heard shrieks. A girl pushed another girl into the water. They looked to be about Grishelda’s age. It seemed like they were having fun. A lot of fun. Grishelda shaded her eyes from the blinding sun and looked up to the floating house. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad.
“Okay. One week.”
Jemma nodded and smiled. “Let’s go take a tour of your new home, shall we?”
A monstrous beast flew down and Grishelda jumped back a foot.
“Oh, don’t be frightened.” Jemma patted the beast’s neck. “This is Herbus. Herbus, meet Grishelda.”
Feathers covered Herbus and his wingspan reached longer than Grishelda’s height. His head was that of a dragon and his eyes were slitted like a snake’s.
“We’re riding him up there?” Grishelda gulped. She didn’t think she had a fear of heights, but she had never been high enough to really know.
“Hop on.” Jemma swung her leg over Herbus’s massive body. Grishelda followed suit and clutched onto Jemma, maybe a little too tightly.
Herbus launched them into the sky and Grishelda squeezed her eyes shut tight.
“Don’t close your eyes.” She heard Jemma’s voice over the roar of the wind. “You’re going to miss the most spectacular part: the view.”
Grishelda peeked with one eye before deciding it was safe enough to open both. Her gaze was greeted with a sweeping view of green forests and fields of golden corn and wheat. Blue rivers wound like veins through the fields. It was breathtaking.
“So what do you think?”
Grishelda wasn’t sure she could form words to adequately describe her feelings. But in that moment, she knew one thing for certain: she was meant to soar.
6
Grishelda had been at Mageia for one month. One glorious month of learning how to control her magic, of learning how to use it to create wonderful things, and most importantly, one month away from her mother.
It was the academy lunch hour and Grishelda enjoyed walking through the courtyard that overlooked the world below. The academy had been created fifty years prior, when magic was still taboo to many people. Jemma created the school as a safe haven for young people with magic. It was high in the sky, where those who opposed magic couldn’t reach. More importantly, it was a sanctuary where humans and fairies came to learn about their magic and how to use it for good. Grishelda was finally in a place where she felt like she truly belonged.
“Hey, Grishelda, wait up!” Tarek yelled, running toward her while juggling a stack of thick books.
Her friend’s voice shook Grishelda from her thoughts, and she paused to let the other girl catch up.
“So, we gonna eat lunch in our favorite spot?” Tarek asked. Unlike tall, gangly, dark Grishelda, Tarek was shorter, rounder, and had a perpetually cheerful smile that she often hid behind books.
“Sounds good to me. I think everyone is already waiting for us.”
They walked together toward a tree on the edge of the courtyard. When Grishelda had first arrived, the border of her new home electrified her. She had even considered diving off and waiting for Herbus to swoop under her and carry her through the sky. Her hopes of sky diving had been dashed when she learned protective shield surrounded this entire place—one that kept anyone from leaving or entering.
“Look who it is, our star sorceress,” Harem drawled from his seat under the tree. He was as tall, lanky, and dark as Grishelda. They could’ve been twins, and Grishelda already felt like he was the brother she’d never had.
“I heard you aced your latest elemental test!” Pippa squeaked. The yellow-haired beauty was as sweet as she was beautiful.
“Oh, come on, guys, it wasn’t that impressive.” That sardonic voice belonged to Kal. She was the one person in the group who seemed to despise Grishelda, and Grishelda wasn’t sure why.
Kal was also tall, but that was where their similarities stopped. Whereas Grishelda was the dark of the night sky, Kal was the fire of the sun. Her long red hair hung in perfect waves. Her seaweed green eyes radiated with a constant intent of maliciousness. Grishelda often wondered if that’s what “Kal” was short for.
“Professor Tinley went easy on her and you all know it,” Kal a
dded.
Harem pushed her. “Kal, you’re just sore because for once you weren’t first in the class.”
Kal hmphed. Her head snapped in Harem’s direction. “Don’t try to tamper with my emotions.” She stood. “I’m leaving. Lost my appetite.” Grishelda didn’t miss her searing glare as she stomped past her.
Grishelda continued peeling her orange, not too bothered by Kal’s apparent dislike.
“She’ll warm up to you, eventually.” Pippa nudged Grishelda. “She’s like that with everyone who’s new to the school.” She turned her attention to Harem. “And you know the rules, Harem. You can’t manipulate someone’s emotions without their permission.”
As he watched Kal saunter away, Harem spit out an apple seed. “She has no reason to treat Grishelda like that. I was just trying to make her a little more cheerful.”
Pippa tsked but said no more on the subject.
Grishelda smiled at her caring friend. “I can handle Kal. I’ve dealt with much worse.”
Over the past four weeks, Grishelda had been mostly tight-lipped about her mother. Her comrades had seen faded bruises and she let a few dark memories slip. It was enough that no one seemed to want her to elaborate, so they moved on. Talking about exams, plans for the weekend, and—of course—gossip.
“Kal wasn’t always this unpleasant. Over the years, she’s become harder to be around.” Tarek checked her surroundings to make sure the other girl wasn’t in the vicinity. “I heard things are bad at home.”
“She just needs to know we’re here for her.” Pippa looked away. “I saw something . . . well, it doesn’t matter. My visions aren’t always right. But, if this one is, it means Kal is going to become a very dark force if we don’t help her.”
Harem threw his apple core in the grass. The blades sprouted sharp teeth and devoured it, apple bits spraying in the air. “How can we possibly help someone as jaded as that? Besides, she’s closed herself off to us. It’s impossible to have a conversation with her anymore.”
“Enough about Kal.” Grishelda didn’t think she could take any more of this talk about the girl. She knew what it was like to be troubled. She actually felt a little sorry for her.
“Grishelda’s right. Ooooh, by the way”—Tarek leaned in like she was telling a secret—“I heard Jemma is on the hunt for the next star sorcerer or sorceress to make a permanent position here.”
Grishelda’s ears perked up. “Really? What are the qualifications for that?” She tried to keep her voice from sounding too interested.
“Beats me, but I heard Kal is after that position. Really wants the income attached to it.” Harem shrugged and took a bite out of a fresh apple. “These are the best apples I’ve ever had, by the way. Well done, Grishelda.”
Pippa watched a mini cyclone Tarek created with her hand. The dark cloud swirled inches above her dancing fingers.
“I’m not sure that’s a position I would want. I love it here, but to stay forever?” Tarek shuddered.
“For some, this would be a dream. A sanctuary,” Grishelda countered.
“Tarek, you’re going to create another tornado!” Pippa warned. “Do you remember what happened last time you didn’t pay attention to your cyclones?”
The cyclone disappeared in the air with a poof, and a smudging of color dusted Tarek’s wide cheeks. “Oops, I don’t even realize I’m doing it anymore.”
Eyes scanning the courtyard, Grishelda marveled at the world she found herself in. A roaring fire burned at the courtyard’s center, young wizards and witches controlling it. Plants grew and mini rainstorms watered them, all at a person’s will.
As Grishelda had learned while here, there were seven different types of magic users in the realm of Neleque. Elementals like Grishelda could create and control life from plants and water. The most skilled elementals could even create life for humans, but there had only been a few cases of that happening in the entire history of Neleque.
Next were the tempests, like Tarek, who could create and control weather. Tempests weren’t powerful enough to change the weather for an entire kingdom, but they could create rain when needed or more powerful storms, if they had dark intentions. Of course, use of magic for dark purposes was expressly forbidden.
People like Harem were feelers; they could encourage certain emotions. Pippa, well, she was a seer. Someone who could catch glimpses of the future. Then there was Kal—she was a minder. Her ability allowed her to enter people’s minds and see snippets of what they thought. She could even control dreams and nightmares.
The magic users Grishelda was most jealous of were the shifters. Shifters could change their appearance, even turning themselves into animals at will. If Grishelda had that ability, she would ensure her mother could never find her.
Lastly, there were the firebringers. Grishelda loved watching the way they could summon and control fire. At night, the firebringers often put on spectacular shows where fire came alive in the form of animals, plants, shapes. That might be her second favorite ability, after shapeshifting.
A bell rang through the courtyard and, as if the bell itself controlled every person, the grassy expanse became a mess of people rushing to and fro.
“Time to get to class!” Tarek jumped up, a little too excited about their impending studies.
As much as she wished she could summon that kind of excitement, a heavy sigh settled itself in Grishelda’s throat. This was her least favorite class of the day, and the one she needed to pass to keep herself from being placed on probation at Mageia.
“Now, class, can someone tell me why myth and folklore are an important subject to learn?”
Always the suck up, Tarek raised her hand and waved it vigorously, trying to get Professor Fria’s attention.
“Yes, Tarek?”
“Myths fuel our own imagination. They push us to travel outside our comfort zones, which, in turn, pushes our own magical creations.”
The professor nodded, satisfied. Grishelda stifled a yawn. As much as she tried, she couldn’t get herself to care about any of the myths taught in this class. She much preferred the classes where she actually got to practice her magic. Besides, none of this was real. So why did they have to learn it?
“Your assignment for the semester will be to create your own myth based on the power you have. Where do you think it came from? How do you think it’s evolved over time? How do you think it will evolve?”
Grishelda rolled her eyes. Snorefest. In her peripheral vision, she could see Tarek already furiously scribbling notes. Maybe she could bribe Tarek to write a story for her.
“Now, the story of today. The myth of the seven gods.”
Grishelda eyes grew heavy.
“There were once seven mighty gods who walked the earth. Tiren, God of Nightmares and King of the Gods. Kater, God of Tricksters. Isabeau, Goddess of Fate. Esme, Goddess of Mayhem. Atlas, God of Tempest. Tria, Goddess of Fertility. And lastly, Karis, Goddess of the Sun. Now, once upon a time, man believed in these gods.”
Grishelda’s head nodded down and her chin hit her chest, waking her back up. Stay awake, Grishelda. Just focus on the professor as she speaks. But that was the wrong thing to do. Professor Fria, with her long brown hair and willowy frame, had a calm voice and a serene expression. The combined effect threatened to make Grishelda nod off again, even as the professor continued telling the myth.
“Man believed their powers came from these gods and their trysts with humans. Seers came from Isabeau, shifters from Kater, tempests from Atlas, firebringers from Karis, feelers from Esme, elementals from Tria, and minders from Tiren. The gods couldn’t help but be drawn to the very humans they created. Of course, as their relationships progressed, hundreds of little babies were born, their power coming from their godly lineage. But as time went on, the mortals’ and their gods’ relationships became more and more volatile. The gods no longer appreciated their creations. They became jealous, angry over the power these mere mortals wielded. The gods created fairies and gave them
more magic. Using magic wands crafted by the gods, fairies could do anything they wished, as long as they learned the spells. These spells were taught to them by the gods through a secret language, one not to be shared with anyone.”
Professor Fria walked by, rapping her knuckles on a nearby desk. Grishelda’s eyes flew open at the sound, only to be lulled into closing again as the professor droned on.
“The gods wanted the fairies to spy for them. The fairies were to gather information on human plans and report back to the mighty beings who had created them. But the fairies were deeply split on this, and soon they divided into factions. Light fairies sided with the humans, refusing to help the gods. Dark fairies continued to spy and report all human activities to their creators.
“But at some point in the histories, all recordings of the gods stop. Even today, we don’t have answers for why this happened. No one knows why humans stopped believing in these divine beings, or why they stopped writing about them. Today, of course, we see these anthologies for what they are, stories meant to entertain. However, there are people who believe the gods once existed, and who believe that is where we got our powers from. Now, is it true? That, I cannot tell you. It is something you must decide—”
A hand slammed down on Grishelda’s desk, jolting her about three feet into the air.
“—for yourselves.”
Grishelda looked up at the usually calm face of her professor to see a quiet rage brewing. Professor Fria’s pursed lips and reddened face frightened Grishelda more than she wanted to admit. “Scholar Grishelda, you are dismissed. Meet me in Jemma’s quarters when the second bell tolls.”
Grishelda paced in front of Jemma’s tall, intimidating doors. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but her nights were plagued with dreams of monsters and demons. Terrors of her mother infiltrated her mind, shaking her awake again and again. Besides, the room had been so warm and Professor Fria’s voice was just so lulling. Not that excuses were ever accepted. What would be her punishment this time? Probation? Or worse? A panicky flurry arose in her stomach and Grishelda thought she might not be able to keep her lunch down.