In fact, she was mortally certain that it was that same room as she looked at the bookshelf, which now held the volume detailing her own class’s information.
“We meet again, young Gilai’el,” she heard the familiar voice of Prefect Tamlen call from behind the desk. She had not noticed him sitting there when she had entered the room, but he was clearly there now. “Please…sit,” he instructed as he opened an unfamiliar book.
Gilai’el did as he instructed, and sat opposite him with clenched fists.
Tamlen looked at her with the same dark, red eyes as she had come to know in the first dormitory. She could not help but notice that his physical appearance was identical to the last time she had seen him.
“You are fortunate,” he began as he sat back in his chair, “for you are to be enrolled in the three-hundred-twenty-ninth graduating class of Veldyrian’s College.”
Gilai’el kept her face as expressionless as possible. “I have not yet completed the courses of this College,” she retorted.
“That is true,” he agreed, “however, your completion of those courses is largely immaterial to the final outcome. Should you avoid unnecessary…accidents,” he grinned malevolently, “you will graduate with your class in three years’ time.”
Gilai’el crossed her legs and sat back in the chair. “If I am certain to graduate, then why must I remain here for three years?”
The Prefect shrugged. “Consider it our way of giving back to you,” he replied in an unfamiliar, generous tone. “Your journey within these walls has been far from pleasant, and we understand the kind of trauma that can inflict on a young mind.”
Gilai’el knew that her journey through unpleasantness was far from over, especially if she had three more years of it to endure. “Is there any way to accelerate my graduation?” she asked suddenly.
Tamlen narrowed his eyes, and his mouth quirked slightly. “There are two methods,” he replied, “the first is to display an exceptional grasp of magical theory and its practical application. This is accomplished by assisting one of the Professors here in the College with his lectures, as well as by scoring highly on a battery of written examinations.”
“And the second,” she prompted immediately.
“The second,” Tamlen smiled, “is to accept my offer, and join the Imperial Archives.”
Gilai’el had thought about the Prefect’s suggestion to forgo the annual draft and become a member of the Archives. She had considered the idea for several months, before arriving at a conclusion.
She stood from the chair, her balled fists at her sides. “I will not be party to perpetuating this College’s foul agenda,” she hissed venomously.
Tamlen nodded knowingly. “I had suspected as much,” he replied evenly. “But if you wish to leave this place early, then either available option leaves you little choice.”
Gilai’el nodded stiffly. “Then three years it will be,” she said flatly.
The Prefect leaned forward with his quill in hand and offered it to her. “Sign here, as before,” he instructed.
She saw a similar entry to the one she had signed before entering Professor Danyel’s class, and she signed her name as she had come to think of it in recent months — she would not be manipulated any further by these people.
“That is not your official name,” growled Tamlen. “Correct your error.”
Gilai’el shook her head adamantly. “I will not,” she retorted.
The two locked eyes for several minutes before the Prefect closed the book. “Very well,” he said after the extended silence. “The Custodians will show you to your room, Gilai’el ‘Scarlet’ Three.”
* * *
The Custodians flanked her as she returned to the small, moving room in which she had arrived. After a short trip, the door opened, and she was greeted with an incandescent, slightly curved white corridor which was illuminated by bright white glow globes.
The trim of the corridor was bronze metal, and the doors were embossed with beautiful engravings of copper, silver and gold which shone brightly in the artificial light of the globes. All of the doors were located on the left-hand side of the corridor, while the right side was covered completely with frescos and engravings of scenes, some of which she recognized as famous depictions, and others she did not recognize at all.
The Custodian to her left pressed against the small of her back with his hand, prompting her to step out of the traveling chamber. The door closed behind them, and she walked past at least forty of the beautifully engraved doorways set in the pearl-colored walls. Finally, they arrived near the end of the corridor at a wall emblazoned with the symbol of the Imperial Archives. The second to the last door was slightly ajar, and the Custodian nearest it gestured for Gilai’el to enter the room.
She held her breath as she gently opened the door, and the contents of the room were obscured in darkness. The black-haired sixteen-year-old stepped warily into the room, and after she had taken a few steps, the door closed behind her as the Custodians sealed her into her latest prison.
Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, which she was penetrated by a soft, greenish-white glow. Gilai’el moved forward slowly toward the source of the light, holding her hands out before herself as she did so to avoid running into what passed for furniture in this gilded cage.
As her eyes continued to adjust, she saw that the light was coming in from a large window, and she approached it to discover that the source of the light was a nearly full moon outside! She stood by the massive window, which was easily twenty feet long and stretched from the floor to the high ceiling of the room.
Even in the darkness, the view was breathtaking as she looked out over the illuminated streets of Veldyrian. The glow globes which provided the streets with light during the night were emitting their familiar soft, yellowish hue. For the first time in her life, Gilai’el could truly appreciate the majesty of the Imperial City.
There was a knock at the door that startled Gilai’el badly enough that she jumped. She balled her hand into a fist as she approached the doorway. Her eyes were now accustomed to the room’s low light level, so she easily made her way back to the exquisitely detailed door and found the lever-like handle. She rotated it, and the door swung gently open toward her, filling the room with the bright white light of the hallway.
Standing before her was a tall, muscular woman with extremely dark brown skin, and black hair cropped so closely to her skull that it barely darkened the color of her perfectly shaped head. She wore black robes with the emblem of the Imperial Archives over her breast.
“Gilai’el ‘Scarlet’ Three,” stated the woman matter-of-factly with a tilt of her head.
“That is not my name,” said Gilai’el evenly.
The woman’s brow ruffled in confusion. “Ah,” she said with a look of realization, “you must be one of The Guild’s Students.”
Gilai’el stood there silently, and after a brief pause the woman gestured with her hand, “May I enter your room?”
The raven-haired girl shrugged indifferently, and the woman moved into the room.
“I see you have yet to activate the room’s illumination,” commented the woman. “You have but to speak the word ‘light,’” at her utterance, a trio of glow globes in the short entryway to the room began to shine faintly, growing in luminescence until they were as bright as those in the hallway. “You may, of course, modify that phrase to any which you see fit,” continued the woman as she moved into the room, and Gilai’el’s breath was taken away by the lavish appointments of what was apparently her room for the next three years. The woman offered Gilai’el a small pamphlet with the same ‘V’ shaped emblem of the Imperial Archives on the front before adding, “There are many features of this room which will require a certain amount of concentration, as well as familiarity with the specific spells required to access those amenities.”
The woman walked purposefully past Gilai’el toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window of her room, where she turned a
nd gestured to a door set in the wall to her right. “Through that door is a study, complete with access to all publicly available research materials you may wish to use in furthering your understanding of magical theory,” she explained, then began to walk in the opposite direction, past a trio of beautiful, fluffy silk-upholstered couches surrounding a circular glass table.
The impressively muscled woman moved to a doorway on the opposite side of the room. “Through here is your sleeping chamber,” she continued as she opened the door. Inside was a room fully three times the size of the one she had shared with her roommates in Listoh Estate, complete with a four-post bed large enough to sleep a half dozen people comfortably. Gilai’el had to fight to keep her jaw from falling to the floor.
“Adjoining this room,” continued the woman with practiced ease, “is your own private bath. It is fully equipped, and you will be required to learn the sequence of spells needed to access it after tonight.” The woman opened the door, and there was what looked to be a huge bathtub carved of solid blue and white-veined marble. It was empty, but the woman waved her hand through the air as she strode to the far side of the bathroom, and water began to flow from a dozen small holes carved into the bath.
“However, I assume you would like to use the facilities in order to…relax, and grow accustomed to your new home,” added the woman with a knowing smile as she turned to face Gilai’el, “so for tonight, you shall have full access to the amenities here.”
“Who are you?” asked Gilai’el after recomposing herself in the face of such opulence.
“My name is Zedir,” replied the woman with a perfectly practiced curtsy. Gilai’el was amazed that a woman who was more muscular and physically imposing than most men she had known was able to display such a feminine gesture so well. “I will be your hostess for the next three years, and I hope we come to enjoy each other’s company.”
Gilai’el stepped toward the bath and knelt down, letting her fingers pass beneath the warm, gentle running water pouring from one of the inlets. “Am I a prisoner here?” she asked after a rush of excitement at the idea of being able to take a real bath.
Zedir shook her head and walked slowly toward her. “I know that your experience has been difficult to this point,” she said in a soothing voice, which absolutely had its intended effect on the raven-haired teenager. “It was difficult for each of us, as the methods of instruction here have not changed in centuries,” she assured the young girl as she knelt beside her, “however, that part is behind you now; you have my word. You are now a part of Class Three Two Nine of Veldyrian’s College, and as long as you live, no one can take that from you.”
The caveat at the end of Zedir’s assurance was enough to make the hairs stand on the back of Gilai’el’s neck, and her fists tightened reflexively as they had ever since she was a little girl.
“During daylight hours, you are free to move about the level,” Zedir explained. “You may mingle with the other members of your class as you see fit, but you —and only you — may allow others entry into your room. Even the Custodians cannot enter without your expressed permission.”
“What about you?” Gilai’el asked suspiciously. “Do you need my permission to enter?”
Zedir nodded. “Indeed, I do,” she affirmed, “however, I truly hope to make your stay here more pleasant if possible.” The woman stood slowly, and Gilai’el did likewise as the woman walked toward the door. “It may help you to learn that I am also a Scarlet,” she said from the entry to the bathroom. “We get so few driven Scarlets within these walls…I sincerely hope you and I can become close friends, but that is for you to decide.”
The muscular woman withdrew a small talisman from her pocket and gestured toward Gilai’el’s Student Badge. “You are no longer a Student,” she explained as she held out the beautiful, scarlet-red carving in the shape of the stylized ‘V’ of the Archives on one side. “I must collect your provisional badge, as you are now a member of Class Three Two Nine.”
Gilai’el looked down at the badge pinned to her chest and slowly unfastened it, before handing it to the dark-skinned woman and accepting the scarlet emblem attached to a golden necklace.
“This is who you are,” said Zedir as Gilai’el took the new amulet and turned it over in her hands. The reverse read Gilai’el ‘Scarlet’ Three, of Class 329.
Gilai’el shook her head and held it for Zedir to take. “No, it is not,” she replied sharply.
Zedir shook her head sadly without accepting the amulet. “I sincerely hope I can change your opinion,” the muscular woman said before turning to leave Gilai’el’s new private bedroom. A few seconds later, the sixteen-year-old heard the main door leading back out to the corridor close.
She stood there in silence for a few moments before undressing and sliding into the steaming water of the first bath she had taken in a year and a half. The euphoria she felt as the soothing water bubbled around her body was more overwhelming than she had expected, and within moments she was fast asleep.
The End
* * *
The Price of Enlightenment series will continue later in 2019
www.calebwachter.com
* * *
Newsletter
www.calebwachter.com/free-ebooks
About the Author
I'm a 37-year-old father of five who, prior to having kids, spent way too much time playing just about every kind of game one can imagine.
As of May, 2019, I have twenty-one independently e-published novels including the currently eight-book military space opera series, Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride, along with a handful of other short series' in the science fiction and fantasy genres
www.calebwachter.com/books
Angel of Death
Heather Marie Adkins
1
When the council sent me to kill David Blythe, it would have been super nice if they’d given me a heads up that he could shoot fire from his eyes.
I dodged a curtain of hellfire, dropping into a tuck and roll behind the white marble counter to give myself some protection. When I’d slammed through his sliding glass backdoor just a few minutes before, Blythe had abandoned his tenderizer and the raw chicken he’d been preparing for dinner. I could smell the blood above me, tangy and fresh. Considering I’d lost my crossbow in my first mad dash to keep clear of the hellfire, the tenderizer was looking like a mighty decent stand-in weapon.
Blythe rounded the counter, flames licking the edges of his red eyes. To be honest, he looked the Merriam-Webster definition of a demon: red flames erupting from his skull, sharp teeth protruding from between his lips, a hint of horns at the edge of his hairline. But the definition stopped there. Blythe’s casual pink dress shirt, black slacks, and loafers ruined the demon look.
Before he could hone in on me and blast his fire again, Tiny leapt over the island counter – a four-legged, furry hulk of rage. His giant black paws hit Blythe square in the chest, knocking the demon on his ass and out of sight.
Tiny whipped around to glare at me, his big pink tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. Get your bow, Azrael!
Another curtain of fire spewed around the edge of the counter. I cringed away from the flames. “I’m trying!”
I reached up and snatched the tenderizer off the countertop. It was a ridiculous tool – very human, very privileged. Privileged wasn’t abnormal for demons in our world; human, on the other hand, wasn’t the norm.
Whoever this Blythe guy was, he didn’t fall back on his hellish demon past in this whitewashed mansion. He lived like a king. Bitch even had running water, when half the Barrens didn’t have access to decent drinking water, much less indoor plumbing.
Who the fuck was this guy?
Tiny growled as Blythe appeared again. To the demon's credit, he did seem fairly intimidated by my three-hundred-pound black dog of indeterminate breed.
While Blythe was distracted by my giant deathhound familiar, I chucked the meat tenderizer at his face. The stainless-steel
kitchen tool hit him in the eye, and then ricocheted out of sight. Blythe roared in pain, clamping a hand to his injured eyeball.
Go! Tiny snapped, launching his bulk at the demon.
When I was sent on a hit, I didn’t know the reasons behind the kill. Human, demon, angel, it didn’t matter – they were somebody the council wanted dead, and their species had nothing to do with it.
As a council assassin, my job was to take out the mark and not ask any questions in the process. In the beginning, that was a high task to ask of me and my inherently curious nature. Now? I’ve lost count of how many marks have met the business end of my weapons. I’ve forgotten their names, and damn sure forgotten who was a demon, who was an angel, and who was a human.
Life in the Barrens was survival of the fittest; life in the Barrens as a council assassin was survive or die.
But there were times—like now—that I just couldn’t help wonder why the hell I’d been sent to kill a demon in a pink polo shirt who used a meat tenderizer to cook.
I leapt over another blast of fire – just one blast, this time, because the meat tenderizer did a number on Blythe’s left eye. Nice. So I needed to annihilate his other eye, and then it would be smooth sailing to take him down.
Even though I appreciated the meat tenderizer for its outside-the-box thinking, the crossbow was what I really needed. Blythe was busy under Tiny’s monstrous bulk, so I leapt to my feet and then skidded on my knees to snatch up my bow. I flipped around to aim it at the demon’s face.
“Move!” I snapped at my dog.
Tiny pounced off Blythe, using the demon as a trampoline to get out of range.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 327