The Forgotten Magicks: The Academy's Call

by Caden Nantes

Robert glowered at him, but said nothing as the third form stepped forward.

  “And I believe you are already acquainted with Snake here,” said Sully.

  Sylin ran his hand through his jet-black hair so similar to his rival’s. “You,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Ah,” Snake said cheerily. “I’m so glad you remember me,”

  “How could I forget?” Sylin shook his head fiercely and drew a dagger. “What do you want, brother?”

  “Revenge,” chanted Snake, Robert and Sully in union as they stalked toward him. Sully drew a long knife from his belt, Robert slapped his cudgel against his palm, and Snake just snickered maniacally as the snake tattoos on his arms writhed and squirmed.

  Sylin broke out in a cold sweat as he turned his blade so it was facing behind him. His eyes narrowed, and he rushed toward the trio in front of him. He jumped up, using his momentum to run sideways along the wall above the shocked faces of the three men below him. Well, two men. Snake was still cackling as his tattoos came to life. Clutching his jeweled dagger, he channeled his magic through the black gem, sending a blast of dark red toward the three men. Using their momentry blindness as an advantage, he dropped to the floor, sprinting toward the mouth of the alley. Something coiled around his leg, bringing him to the ground. His forehead scraped across the hard stone as he was draggeed backward. Without looking behind him, he knew what it was. Snake's black magic, even darker than his own, must be coiled around his leg. Something bit into his calf, and he muffled a yelp as venom streamed into his bloodstream. He twisted his head, slicing the magic -which was currently taking the form of a viper- in half. The jewel in his dagger sparkled, sucking the sorcery in and making it its own. Straightening his leg, he tried to stand, only to gasp as his knee buckled and he crashed to the ground. Ice spread through his limb, the venom spreading. Completely rigid this time, he held his injured leg up while using his other to get to his feet. Leaning on the wall, he stared at his brother. Ruffled black locks hung in front of a wild expression, making him seem just like the crazed sibling he was. Sylin's vision was overtaken by a memory. A memory of the time when his brother was known not as Snake, but by a different name, long forgotten. A time when his expression was innocent, playful. That was before he was corrupted. That was before everything changed. He shook his head to clear it as a dagger whipped across his temple.

  "What, Sylin? Too scared to fight? You always were the frightened one, hiding behind mommy's embrace... until lovely Lyenda wasn't there to hide behind any longer."

  "Watch. Your. Mouth!"

  Sylin threw his magic, forgetting to channel it through the knife as he released it from its cage. It slammed into Snake, knocking him to the ground. Rage exploded throughout his body. He hardly saw the two unconscious forms on the floor, instantly knocked out by his magic. Advancing on his brother, he gnashed his teeth, darkness permeating every corner of his being. Anger coursed through him. How dare he speak of their mother in such a way? How dare he utter her name? As his fist balled up, ready to realease more of his magic, a voice streamed through his mind. Do not bring him pain. He is still your brother. His muscles lost some of their tension at the sound of his mother’s voice. “But he is evil! He made you suffer! He has no chance of redemption!” Everyone can be redeemed. No darkness is so black it cannot be changed. At this, he dropped to his knees. He thought of his dying aunt, laying in a crumbling house, on a hard stack of hay. He thought of himself, and the darkness within. He thought of everything he'd done. All the deeds, good and bad, he'd accomplished. Tears streaked his face as he invisioned the nondescripit house where his aunt rested. Again not bothering to use the dagger, he let his magic swirl around him. Shades of red, magenta, black and gray flashed as he cut through time and space. Crashing back to reality, he found himself sitting by his aunt's haphazard deathbead. He clutched her hand. It was cold. Lifeless. Dead. Tears poured down his cheeks. "No!" he screamed. "Please, I need you. Please..."

  He crumbled, wilting as he slumped against the stack of hay, liquid still streaking from his eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Schools and Swords

  Aeyn's horse trotted down the wide cobblestone streets of Sarvin as he frowned at passerby. They made a wide berth of his horse's clomping hooves as they scowled at him. Aeyn shook his head. And you'd think I'd be used to it by now. He scanned the bustling streets as he searched for the building he called home. There, he saw it. The ominous building was built just outside the citadel, and looked wealthy enough to be inside of it. He approached the large house of light-gray stone, it's pale complexion reflecting zero sunlight so it seemed the building had no shadow. He circled around the back until he spotted the Smith Manor private stables.

  "Hiya, Aeyn!" said a small boy sporting disheveled auburn hair and a toothy grin.

  "Hello, Anthony. Could you take Squire in for the day?" He gestured toward the gray stallion he was riding. The boy nodded enthusiastically and took the reigns as Aeyn hopped off. He watched the stableboy lead Squire through the open doors of the stables and into a stall.

  Turning back toward the menacing house of pale stone, he trusted Anthony to take care of Squire as he always did. He took a deep breath and walked around the bend, fishing a key out of his pocket and unlocking the door. He stepped into the living room and closed the door gently, careful not to disturb his father who was likely still working in his office.

  Dull colors shied away from the eyes. A white sofa sat in one corner of the room, and a small armchair in the other corner. Brown shelves lined the walls, relieved of their possessions long ago. Gray curtains were draped across the windows, adding to the room's gloomy look.

  Aeyn climbed the staircase in the far corner of the room, opposite the armchair. Loud clicks were muffled by thin gray carpet as he climbed the marble staircase. He still wondered at the fragility of such a material.

  When he reached the top, he hardly spared the area a glance as he opened the wooden door leading to his room. He nearly leapt back in surprise as he spotted a figure sitting on his bed.

  "Father?" He said. The man nodded as his eyes scanned Aeyn's frame. He was nothing like Aeyn, who had shoulder-length brown hair, blue eyes, and an average build. His father, however, had black hair, dark gray eyes, a bulkier build, and an almost constantly frowning face.

  "What are you doing in my room?"

  His father, as always, got straight to the point. "The Academy sent you a letter," Aeyn raised his eyebrows and had to fight to keep his mouth from falling open.

  "The Academy? You mean..."

  "Yes. They request your admission. Here, read it yourself,"

  Aeyn took the letter with numb hands. He fumbled to open the envelope, and once he did, his shaking fingers nearly dropped the letter inside. He unfolded the paper hesitantly and read:

  To Aeyn Dragonsbane:

  The Denvil Academy requests your admittance to our school for Warriors, Scholars, Healers and the like. We have been watching you, son of Miles Smith and Reyna Dragonsbane, and the majority of the Masters have agreed you would be a great addition to our school. We know that you are a skilled blacksmith, but we also wonder about your battle prowess and other abilities you have yet to uncover. We believe all students can benefit from the teachings of the Masters at the Academy. We will keep this letter short and straight to the point. There will be no cost but your time, determination, and will to succeed. We will take care of accommodations and food, provided you pass the test.

  Best regards,

  Headmaster Darius.

  Aeyn looked up from the letter, thinking how much the letter left uncovered. Why would they use his mother's last name? He had always gone by Aeyn Smith, not Dragonsbane. And how did they know he was a skilled blacksmith? His father's influence, perhaps? What 'other abilities'? And what is this mysterious test?

  He realized that his father had left the room, and he shook his head. He knew the man would provide no gold for the journey, regardless of the cost. He stood up
, his resolve hardening. If his father didn't want him here anymore, than fine. He would go. But he would not go on some fool's journey to who-knows-where. He would go to the Denvil Academy and learn from the Masters!

  ∆∆∆

  Aeyn strode down the dark alleyway, jumping at every shadow. Come on, Aeyn. He asks for you to come here every time you want to meet him. He sighed as he reached the end of the alley, still seeing no sign of his friend.

  "Ha!" Aeyn jumped and twisted in midair toward the voice. The form was now doubled over in laughter. "You should have seen your face! You looked like a startled seal pup!" said Sylin, still laughing.

  "I'm not even gonna ask how you know what that looks like,"

  Sylin grinned. "So, why'd you wanna meet this time?"

  Aeyn sighed. This was the not-so-funny part. "I'm leaving."

  The grin fell off Sylin's face. "What?"

  "I'm going to the Denvil Academy. I have an invitation and...." Aeyn trailed off as the grin on his friend's face resurfaced. "What?"

  "I have an invitation too!"

  Aeyn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Sorry, but I don't think they're going to teach you to pick people's pockets better."

  Sylin pouted at him. "I'm not that bad. In fact, I stole the invitation last night and didn't even know what it was,"

  Aeyn gasped, exasperated. "Sylin, you stole an invitation to the Denvil Academy? You've gotten even worse since I last saw you."

  Sylin chuckled. "Aren't you glad I'm coming with you?"

  Aeyn smirked. "You'd think I'd be, but honestly, I'm having second thoughts."

  Sylin rolled his eyes. "How's your father taking all this?" Aeyn’s smirk wavered.

  "He's actually the one who told me I got an invitation. He gave it to me, and then he left. I guess he doesn't really care what I do, so long as it doesn't interrupt his flow of coin."

  Sylin dipped his head. "Well, I suppose we should stock up for the journey, eh?"

  Aeyn nodded. "Come on. I want to grab something from the weapon-smith."

  "Lead the way."

  Aeyn strode out of the alley, with Sylin on his heels. He passed the armorsmith where he worked, and decided to tell Garun he was leaving. Aeyn waved Sylin off.

  "Go on. I'll meet you there," He found the blacksmith already behind the counter, inspecting a gleaming backplate. He looked up at Aeyn as he entered, and set the steel aside.

  "Aeyn! What are you doing here?"

  "I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving. I'm going to the Denvil Academy,"

  "That's great!" said Garun, even as he frowned. "But I will miss you, and not just because of your talent. You are so much like your mother,"

  Aeyn's mouth dropped open. "You knew my mother, and never told me?"

  Garun nodded. "She was a fine young lady. So feisty. I guess that's what happens when you're dra-" he coughed on the last word, his face going red. Aeyn's brow furrowed but he ignored it.

  "I have something for you, before you go." Garun turned, and, without waiting for him to follow, entered the door behind the counter. Aeyn hurried to catch up, slowing as he entered the smithy.

  Bellows stood by the far wall, and a large wheel with a foot pump was next to it. Hammers and tools were everywhere. Iron shelves were staked along the walls, various sets of half-finished armor sitting on them. Garun approached the far corner. He bent down and grabbed ahold of some invisible thing. Cloth appeared, swirling like a sandstorm as Garun pulled it up. A large wooden chest sat on the ground where nothing was before, an intricate lock engraved into it. He put the cloth aside as Aeyn gasped.

  "How?"

  Garun shook his head, pulling a key from his pocket. He inserted the key into the chest and turned. Scraping noises followed as the tumblers lifted and the chest was unlocked.

  Garun pulled the lid of the chest open, revealing a stash of blue-tinted armor. Aeyn's jaw dropped open. How could so many things fit in that chest? It was big, but not that big. Garun took out first a blue-tinted cuirass. It had a symbol of a dragon engraved on the front of it. He handed it to Aeyn, who laughed slightly at the irony of it all.

  "It was your mother's. Put it on. See if it fits,"

  Aeyn hesitantly pulled it over his head, securing the buckles and straps once he had it on. It fit snug to his frame, but not to tight.

  "It's perfect," he said.

  Garun nodded and handed him two swords and their scabbards, along with a pair of gauntlets with a sparkling blue jewel embedded into each.

  Aeyn frowned as he tugged on the gauntlets. "They aren't as long as a longsword, but not quite as small as a short sword either,"

  Garun smiled. "Yes, they are one of a kind."

  Aeyn strapped them both across his back and drew one, marveling at the almost glowing blue tint. He stared at the rune etched into the hilt.

  "What's this?"

  Garun shrugged. "Dunno. Your mother never told me,"

  Aeyn stared at the sparkling blue jewel embedded into the pommel before swinging the fluted blade. Aeyn smiled. This used to be my mother's sword. He sheathed the blade before turning back toward Garun, who presented a dagger with a blue jewel in the hilt.

  "She always carried this in her boot, although I never saw her use it,"

  Aeyn took it and sheathed it in his boot, before standing up.

  "Thank you for giving these to me. Is there anything, anything at all I can do for you?"

  "I have no use for coin. Just promise me you'll do your best at the Academy, eh?"

  Aeyn nodded. "Of course,"

  "Oh! I almost forgot these little guys," Garun took two blue-tinted bracers out of the chest and handed them to Aeyn, who put them on, marveling at their weightlessness similar to the cuirass.

  Aeyn thanked him again before turning and heading out the smithy door. He opened the other door and stepped outside, jogging around the corner and finding the other blacksmith who specialized in weapons rather than armor. He found Sylin already there, a new set of throwing knives strapped to his ribs. Raising an eyebrow at Aeyn, he asked,

  "Where'd you get all that from?"

  Aeyn shrugged. "My mom's armory,"

  Chapter Four

  A Father’s Betrayal

  Sylin frowned again, recalling the strange invitation he'd stolen. It was addressed to Jax Aylon, and contained little of note except saying he was welcome to join the Academy. It was a wonder he'd stolen it from Robert at all, and just when Aeyn had received a similar invitation. Jax must be Robert's son.

  He shook his head to clear it, and looked back at his heavily-armored friend. He still wondered where he'd gotten all that gear from. It would be worth a fortune. He sighed and went over his own gear once again. Four throwing knives strapped to his ribcage, a couple knives on his lower back, two daggers on opposite thighs, and the list goes on. Of course, he also had the special jeweled dagger his mother had given him on the back of his belt. He would never forget how it had absorbed his brother's black magic. Aeyn's voice suddenly cut through his reverie.

  "So, what do we need now? We have food and water for the journey, new weapons and armor, and our invitations,"

  "The next thing we need is a map," said Sylin. Aeyn nodded and angled toward the small shop on the corner. He pulled the door open and stepped aside, letting Sylin enter. The shop was filled with maps of all places, shapes, and sizes. There was a small wooden counter beside them, and Sylin rang the bell as he saw no-one was there.

  "I'll be right with you!" shouted a raspy and slightly nasal voice from the door behind the counter. A small man emerged moments later. He looked to be in his mid forties, and he wore rounded spectacles on the bridge of his nose. Unkempt brown hair was swept to the side, his bangs hanging over his forehead.

  "What are you looking for?"

  Aeyn approached the counter and nodded to the man. "We're looking for a map from here to the Denvil Academy,"

  The man turned around and muttered to himself as he pulled various maps off the shelves. Finally, he
stopped.

  "Ah-ha! Here we are," he pulled a small map out of a glass tube-shaped container and presented it to them. It showed the whole eastern portion of Arania, and had a small line at the bottom.

  "This here is the map's legend," he pointed to the line. "It represents twenty miles. If you want to make the trip to Denvil, you'd have to cross the Zenpheir Meadows, which are located here, just next to the province of Lunacia," he traced his finger along the map as he spoke. "Then, you turn northeast, toward the Shierwil forest. Beware, you enter elven land when you get to this point." The man stopped to regard them both closely and then continued, "You enter the Highpoint Mountains, crossing using the Dropstone Pass," His eyes flicked about the map rapidly. "As you approach the Druhami desert, beware of the Sand Giants, Desert Raiders, and Cobrali," He scribbled the word 'No-man's Land' above the desert. "Finally, you enter the town of Denvil. The academy is located between two large mountains, called the Giant's Feet, as is the town." He quickly grabbed a quill and dipped it into a pool of ink. "I'll trace the route out for you," he did so, and then turned toward Sylin. "It would be a trip of roughly two hundred miles, and you would pass out of the Sarinia province,"

  Sylin nodded, although he had no knowledge of maps and had no idea how long it would take. "Thank you. How much would the map be?"

  The man tilted his head for a moment and then decided, "Two silvers," Sylin raised his eyebrows, and the man hastily added, "Although, if you do not want the glass case, then it would be a mere cost of one silver,"

  Sylin smiled. "That's what I thought. We'll take it without the case," The man returned the smile as Sylin payed him and took the map.

  "Thank you," said Aeyn before leaving out the door with Sylin just behind him.

  "What now?" asked Sylin as he put the rolled-up map into a pocket of his cloak.

  "I go get my horse. My dad can't reject me that, at least,"

  Sylin dipped his chin. "Shall I come with you?"

  Aeyn shook his head. "No, I'll be right back. Stay here." with that, he turned around and strode toward Smith Manor.