First Year

by Rachel E. Carter

  “Not much, they expect us to start right away.”

  I had thought I would have some time to study. Lovely.

  “Ugh, they brought us more of that delightful training garb,” a sarcastic voice said to my left.

  I glanced around. At the front of the room was a large crate of shapeless brown breeches and forest green tunics, equally plain. Next to it was a pile of old leather belts and high boots splattered with mud and dark red stains that looked suspiciously like blood. As Piers had promised, the clothes were worn and frayed. It was obvious they were hand-me-downs that had been passed on year after year to the incoming class.

  I was appreciative for the new wardrobe, if only for the fact that it would help lessen the stigma of class that ran rampant in the halls. Some of us could certainly use the reminder that we were all supposed to be equals here.

  Smiling inwardly at the groans coming from the side of the room that had been unofficially designated upper class, I quickly dressed and headed down to the dining commons. I was tired but anxious to finish at least a problem or two of mathematics over steaming porridge and a hot mug of tea.

  When I arrived, Alex was already seated in our normal spot.

  “How many problems do you have left?”

  I sighed. “Too many.”

  “Me too,” he contributed cheerfully. “What do you think will happen?”

  I stared at the equations on my paper, willing them to make sense. “I hope we aren’t the only ones” was the only reply I could think of.

  Unfortunately, as my brother and I learned, we were indeed the only ones to not complete the first day’s assignment. The rest of the class had either copied each other’s answers, or they had all better managed their time. Even Ruth, whom I thought had a couple equations left, managed to turn in a complete paper.

  As punishment for our negligence, Alex and I were expected to spend two hours after supper assisting Constable Barrius’s staff with the mucking of the stables.

  “But we didn’t have enough time to finish last night’s work! How am I supposed to finish today’s and clean the stables?”

  “Miss Ryiah,” Master Eloise began slowly, squinting down at me, “if you can’t meet the Academy’s demands, then perhaps your time would be spent better elsewhere.”

  Behind me I heard several students snicker.

  My face burned. “Just because I didn’t ch—”

  Alex kicked my shin, and I paused to glare at my brother. His eyes narrowed and I swallowed. His expression was clear. I was only making it harder on the both of us: Did I really want to drag him down with me?

  “My apologies,” I mumbled to Master Eloise. “It will not happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.”

  I followed Alex to our seats, avoiding the gaze of those I passed. When we had reached our desks and the masters had begun their lecture, I turned to him.

  “Why did you stop me? You knew half the class cheated!”

  “Do you really want to make enemies on your second day?” he countered.

  “No…” I stared at my hands, frustrated.

  “Besides,” Ella pointed out, joining our hushed conversation, “arguing with the masters will only strengthen their opinion that you should not be here in the first place. It’s your job to prove them wrong.”

  “But how can I if I don’t have enough time to do what they ask in the first place?”

  Ella raised a brow. “I think the only ones who know the answer to that are the ones that already have an apprenticeship.” She tapped her books with her quill, “Now pay attention, you two. I can’t have my only friends leaving me to fend for myself.”

  After four hours in the library and the shortest lunch imaginable, Alex, Ella, and I headed for what was sure to be the worst part of our day: two hours with Sir Piers.

  Expectations did not disappoint.

  After another five-mile run, which was much worse now that everyone was sore from the day before, Sir Piers had us practice again with the staffs. Somehow he expected us to have significantly improved.

  Instead, our exhaustion just led to more mistakes than the last session.

  When I got down the line to Alex, he and I spent our five-minute drill barely moving in order to catch a quick break. When it was Ella’s turn, she spent the entire time trying to helpfully contribute tips that I neither wanted to hear nor heed.

  Sir Piers spent the whole exercise shouting. I was convinced someone had told him the louder he yelled, the harder we’d try. It didn’t work.

  Half the class was at the point of collapse by the time the second hour had finished. It was all I could do to walk my staff back to the armory.

  “Just where do you lot think you are going?” Piers barked.

  The crowd of students froze, and I turned back to see Sir Piers and Master Cedric scowling at us.

  “Gods, no,” Alex said in a hushed voice.

  “We are not finished,” Sir Piers bellowed. “I need all of you to return with your staffs. Master Cedric and I have a new exercise for you.”

  My stomach fell. My legs were weak as jelly, and my arms felt like lead weights.

  The assisting mages from yesterday returned, passing out small strips of cloth to each student they passed. Alex, Ella, and I each took one, exchanging dubious expressions as we lined back up in the two-columned formation we had been practicing in.

  Master Cedric cleared his throat. “As all of you now have your cloth, I’d like you to place it over your eyes and form a blindfold. Today’s exercise is going to expose the problem with the majority of your performances yesterday. Of course, some of you already have an understanding for what today’s task is about to explicate, but I feel it is my duty to educate the rest of the masses.”

  As I tied the rag across my eyes, I wondered briefly what it was we were about to learn. Considering yesterday’s experience, I was prepared for something equally offsetting. I felt silly standing there, unable to see anything, hands clutching the staff that Piers had insisted we bring back.

  “Now that you are all lined up and ready, please assume the traditional stance with the person on the left defending while the right leads the assault.”

  Really? Staff fighting while blindfolded? This was only going to make me a million times worse.

  Grudgingly, I began the engage with the gangly girl who had been standing across from me. As the attacker, it was much more difficult than I had imagined. My sense of orientation was completely thrown off from blindness. The echo of a hundred wooden staffs clashing was deafening.

  I spent most of my time swiping the wind or accidentally knocking my staff into the person on my right’s shoulder.

  “Change positions!”

  I had thought blindly hitting someone was hard, but it was much worse when I was trying to guess where my offender was coming from. My shoulders ached from being continuously whacked. I concentrated hard on trying to hear the slight whistle of rushing air when the staff was coming down, but I couldn’t hear anything above the clamor. My best bet was to try and focus on the crunching of the grass whenever my partner shifted stance, or the stink of sweat when he raised his arm.

  After a couple more five-minute drills, I was sore but better off than when I had started. I had been able to defend myself about half of the time, and I was a little more secure in my footing after I had grown accustomed to the darkness.

  “You may now take a seat and remove your blindfolds,” Master Cedric announced.

  Relieved, I tossed the sweat-stained rag aside and took a place beside my latest staffing partner. We both looked to Cedric for the speech we knew was coming, the reason we had just spent thirty minutes hitting sticks blindly.

  “Forgot about the other senses before today, didn’t you?” Piers asked us wickedly.

  Master Cedric expanded: “The reason I had you blindfolded was so that each of you could properly identify the other senses that are so often forgotten in one’s general conduct. You’ve spent two day
s drilling with staffs, but it has been my observation that most of you have only been using sight to tell you where to block, where to strike, how to proceed.

  “The truth is that every action requires more than vision for a performance to be completely vested. The best soldiers and mages alike embrace their senses. Just now, all of you were forced to recognize other ways of predicting an opponent’s actions when you couldn’t use your sight to answer the question for you. Heightened listening, body heat, smell, and an increased understanding to the different points of pressure in a blow should have all helped contribute to your knowledge of staff fighting.

  “If you were to engage in a casting, these types of observations would increase the potency of your magic. Your spells are derivatives of the information, experience, and desire you put forth. I’m sure all of you have desire—it’s why you are here—but the amount of information and experience you put into your castings will be important indicators as well. You may want more than anything to produce an effective sleeping draught, but if you can’t build up the proper projection within your mind, it will not be very effective. You need to consider all aspects, not just the image or obvious sense of the action or thing you are trying to create.”

  I strained to listen, but the pounding in my head was so much that his words were coming out as an endless drone.

  “The irony of your training here at the Academy is that while we require you to ignore your physical senses in meditation and acute focus, we ask you to embrace them in your mental casting. You are not allowed to feel what is physically going on around you during the moment of your spell, but you are expected to cast an image evocative of all those physical senses in your mind. I admit that the practice of these two things is not easy. It is not something you can master in a day, or even years. All I can advise is that the more you practice, the more you dedicate yourself to exploring these two states, the better your chances will be at succeeding within your own magical faction.”

  The end of Master Cedric’s lecture was spent in silence. Most of us were still trying to take in everything as we followed him out to the field to continue yesterday’s meditative exercise. I hoped it would make sense after a long night’s rest.

  At the end of our session, we were informed that this would be the pattern for the rest of the month—half of the class practicing a heightened awareness to the senses, the others learning to block them out. Supposedly with enough practice we would be able to transfer easily between the two states.

  Of course, to be “competent” we’d have to continue the practice on our own during any “free time” we were lucky enough to acquire. Knowing how much free time I actually had at my disposal, it was obvious that the highborn students had a huge advantage.

  Those that had grown up with a mage tutor advising them didn’t have to be worried about the lack of free time they had now. The nonheir’s group wouldn’t falter under our intense workload. I, on the other hand, would be struggling for any free moment I could find in order to try and catch up.

  It was unfair that I would be working doubly hard, but it was an inevitable reality as long as I remained. If I didn’t try, I’d only be widening that gap in the months to come.

  By the time dinner had ended, I was in a very irritable state. I said little to Alex as we forked piles of manure out of the straw. I continued my silence on our walk back to the castle as well, unable to let go of my growing resentment of the privileged class. Statistically speaking, those that had the extra learning would have no problem finishing each night’s assignments. Which meant it would always be people like Alex and me mucking out the stables.

  Granted, I had known all along we would have a disadvantage, but I had hoped the masters would help the underprivileged instead of capitalizing on their weakness. Why take away free time from the ones that needed it most? Why punish us for incomplete assignments using mundane tasks that had nothing to do with the practice of magic? It was only going to make it harder for us to succeed, not easier.

  By the time I had reached the barracks to grab my books, I had only an hour left before I was expected to return. I looked for Alex as I entered the crowded library, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Grumbling, I shoved my way past a horde of students and made my way to the back of the room. I could see why Ella had been so irritated the day before. With Darren’s group hogging the largest, most comfortable lounge, there was little space left for the rest of us. There was crowding down every aisle on either floor, and the chatter was loud enough to set my teeth on edge. There was no way I’d be able to concentrate.

  Spotting a ladder at the end of the room, I decided to leave the masses and see what the third floor could offer. When I reached it, I could see why no one had bothered. There was no torchlight, no books, and no seating.

  This “floor” was nothing more than a cramped alcove with spider webs hanging from empty shelves. At a corner on the left was a makeshift bench composed from wooden crates. The place had probably been used as a study at some point, but it had been long since abandoned.

  Avoiding the darkest part of the room, which I suspected was crowded with unfriendly spiders, I made my way to the only source of light. Dragging one of the crates to sit beneath a dirty paned window, I quickly commenced my study. The alcove wasn’t very comfortable, but it was quiet and remote.

  My time passed quickly. It had been productive, but I was nowhere near done when I heard Constable Barrius ordering the first-years to return to their quarters. I was in the midst of grabbing my belongings when I began to contemplate my situation. If I left now, I would never finish the day’s work.

  But, I thought as I listened to the pounding of busy feet, I could stay up here, and no one would know. It was risky, I knew, to stay out past curfew. If the constable spotted me, I could be expelled on the spot…but if it worked, I would never have to worry about chores again.

  I was careful not to make a sound as I leaned over the edge of the rail to watch everyone exit the library. I held my breath as Barrius and his assistant made their final inspection of the studies.

  Finally, after much pausing and condescending chatter, the two left, leaving me alone in a situation I hoped very much not to regret. I had no idea how I would make it to the girl’s barracks unnoticed, but I saved the thought for later. I contemplated going down to the lounge where there was more light and comfortable seating, but I knew it was too risky. Who knew how often Barrius would check the library? I had best stay where I was and make the most of it.

  I had only been studying for twenty minutes when there was a slight creaking sound from the doors below.

  Carefully setting down my belongings, I tiptoed to the railing’s edge and peered down into the dark study beneath. Sure enough, it wasn’t my imagination. In the darkness I could see a hooded figure quietly shutting the door as it clutched a handful of books and parchment much like my own.

  Seconds later I heard a familiar nasal voice coming from the hall.

  I watched as the figure ducked behind a bookcase to the right not a moment too soon. All at once torchlight illuminated the library, and I watched as the constable chastised Frederick for his imagination.

  “But I thought I heard someone—”

  “You think you hear a lot of things,” Barrius cut Frederick off. “But once again, you’ve managed to waste my time.”

  “But shouldn’t we still search?”

  “Really, Frederick, who would sneak off to the library of all places?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Out!” Barrius snarled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the echo of footsteps faded, the figure chuckled. I watched as it settled comfortably upon the couch below. Moments later a small fiery glow appeared. It wasn’t very bright, just enough to give out light to read, and see the face of my fellow rule-breaker.

  The hood had fallen away to reveal black bangs and the dark eyes I had since become accustomed to loathing. Darren.

  The non
-heir sat below pouring over the same books as me.

  My jaw dropped. The very thought that he and I had shared the same idea was distressing in more ways than one. I had come here to make up for lost time, but Darren, who already had such an advantage in his training…he had come here to study anyway. Someone who didn’t even need to, someone who was already at the top of our class.

  And I bet he had come here the night before too.

  I refused to consider what it meant.

  Turning back to my studies, I tried to focus my mind and block out anything other than the problems on the page in front of me. I bit my lip resolutely. Do not let this opportunity go wasted, especially with him down there.

  Minutes slowly trickled by as I read questions once, twice, three times before attempting to solve. You can do this. I stifled a yawn and kept at my work.

  An hour and a half later I finally finished the assignments.

  I could have left at that point but, seeing as how Darren was still working below, I decided to stay. My conscience could not allow a condescending prince to work harder than me. Especially one that had insinuated I was here to “socialize.”

  So I stayed. Math and Crown law were beyond comprehension at that point, as was geography with all of its confusing maps, so I chose a history scroll instead. It was the right choice. Almost like a storybook in narration, the long and detailed accounts of Jerar’s fighting mages helped retain my focus into the late hours of the night.

  Our last war had been ninety years ago, but the book’s breakdown of battle strategy made me feel as though I was a part of it now. There were so many things I had never considered, aspects of battle that I had thought were reserved only for the knights of our kingdom. I’d had no idea how involved the planning was behind our army’s attacks. Silly me, I had always assumed victory just came down to how much power a nation’s mages had.

  I had just started reading about a particularly bloody battle when I heard a stifled yawn downstairs. Taking that as my cue, I packed up my work and stood by the rail to watch for Darren’s departure. As soon as he left I would follow.

  I had barely shifted the books in my arms when my quill dropped. It echoed unsettlingly down the stairs, and Darren jerked his head upward in my direction. He didn’t ask who was there, but he did get up to investigate. Rather than waiting for him to find me, I gave up my hiding place and started down the ladder.