At the edge of Neris at one end, beyond the walls, mounted on a pristine white cliff like a crown to the magnificence of the seaside city, lay the towering white walls of the Academy of Evolon.
Far in the distance, right on the other side of Neris—its walls glistening in the midday sun—lay the impressive Summer Palace, the seat of the kings of Eldoren. It overlooked the azure sea of the Bay of Pearls, with the hills to one side and the splendor of the city to the other.
As we rode through the streets, I noticed that there were more merchants and traders here than in Fairlone, selling an assortment of items. There were jewelry shops, dressmakers, candle makers, glove shops, booksellers, locksmiths, bakeries, tanners, rope makers, small inns, and whitewashed taverns.
The town square was full, and the docks and warehouses were bustling with people. Elegant shops and spacious inns lined the crowded streets, and large stone houses were connected by a network of broad avenues. Some were enormous at two and three stories high. Erien explained that on this side of the river were the mansions of the nobility, and the houses were massive, extravagantly decorated, with beautifully manicured enclosed gardens and courtyards.
We rode through the wide streets and over one of the narrow bridges to the other side of the city. Here the houses were made of wood, smaller and more cramped together, with small cobblestone paths that crisscrossed into alleyways that led to run-down houses. Parts of this side of the river were still respectable, where the merchants, traders, and shopkeepers lived.
The shops here were more downmarket, I noted. There were blacksmiths hammering at their anvils, taverns, and brothels with prostitutes selling themselves on dirty, deserted street corners. Here most of the streets led down into darker alleyways where drunks languished and the garbage was not swept up.
Erien explained that this was the old town of Neris. Many years ago, the city had been just a small fishing village; slowly, it grew into an unplanned town, but always on this side of the river. Then the mages came and built the Academy of Evolon, and soon the little town became a sprawling city. The king of that time, Dorian the third, built the Summer Palace here, as he wanted a home by the sea.
“You see,” Erien was saying, as I slumped on my ambling horse, “the original king’s palace is Caeleron Castle, situated north of here in the hills. The court moves there during the winter and returns to the city for the summer. It is the height of the season in Neris, and there are balls and parties held by all the nobility during summer and the harvest season. In the winter, most of the nobility leave Neris and return to their country estates, which are located all over Eldoren.”
I nodded. The life of the Eldorean nobility sounded very exciting and glamorous.
“So, do you have a house here in the city?” I asked Erien.
“Yes, of course. Elmsdale House is all the way on the other side of the city, near the palace. Mother will be staying there this summer. During holidays, we can leave the academy and go and stay there with her.”
I was relieved at that. I was looking forward to spending time with Aunt Serena and Erien at their house, and it would be nice to get away from the academy when we had time off from school. It was also comforting to know that I had somewhere to go.
We rode up the side of the hill to the lofty white walls of the Academy of Magic. Once inside the academy gates, I was amazed at how beautiful it was. An immense walled complex, Evolon was like a little village of its own.
Within the walls of the school, beautifully maintained gardens and shaded paths surrounded the academy on all sides. Courtyards with fountains and terraced gardens stretched back down to the cliff and the sea.
Serena took me to meet the Mastermage of the Academy at Evolon, Elial Dekela. The mastermage’s office was in a beautiful two-storied, white stone mansion with large arched windows. Aunt Serena knocked on the stout door. A strong, stern voice bade us enter.
Elial Dekela was a small, aging man with long salt-and-pepper hair tied back neatly in a ponytail. He got up from behind his smoothly polished mahogany desk and came over to greet us. “My lady.” He bowed politely to Serena first, then straightened and turned to study me. His sharp, black eyes were deep set under bushy, white eyebrows, and delicate spectacles rested precariously on his hooked nose. “So, this is Rory!”
He looked like a very demanding teacher.
Aunt Serena nodded. “Yes, and I want her to get settled in with as little fuss as possible. You understand how important it is that she not draw much attention.”
“I understand completely. I’m glad we had a chance to meet before you started your studies here, Rory,” said Professor Dekela. “I am quite sure you will be happy here.”
“It’s imperative that her true identity remain hidden,” Aunt Serena stressed.
They didn’t tell me that the old professor knew who I really was. How much did he know? Did he know I was a fae-mage?
Professor Dekela nodded, walked over to the shelf, and took down an old scroll. “This will help you get acquainted with the school and its rules and regulations, and it will also give you an idea about the grounds, in case you need some help getting to your classes.” He handed me the scroll. “I will send for you soon, so we can have a little talk after a few days have passed and you have had a chance to settle in.”
I took the scroll and thanked him politely.
“Your aunt will show you to your house,” Professor Dekela stated. “She knows it well, as your cousin Erien has been here for a year already.”
I followed Aunt Serena down the flower-lined paths to my dorm house under a burnished pink sky. I wanted to get settled in as quickly as possible. “Where did you go to school, Aunt Serena?”
“I was homeschooled.”
My eyes widened. “But why didn’t you go to the academy too?”
Aunt Serena gave me a half-smile, but I could sense sadness behind it. “Although I am born of a magical bloodline, I am one of the many not gifted with the magic of the mages.”
I was stunned. I had never really thought of asking Aunt Serena about this. I always assumed she had magic like everyone else. It was going to take a while for me to get used to this world. There were so many things to remember and learn.
Finally, we reached my dorm house. It was a fairly large stone house with lush green ivy and twisted creepers running all over the walls. It had a large, gated garden and a picket fence with a sign that read Mulberry House.
“This is where you will live for the year,” Aunt Serena said. “Do not let the other girls convince you to break the rules. They do that to newcomers here sometimes. Professor Dekela is very strict about how you conduct yourself on the school grounds.”
“How much does the professor know?” I asked Aunt Serena before we went in.
Aunt Serena gave me a pointed look. “He knows enough to keep you safe, but not everything.”
“But I thought Uncle Gabriel said not to tell anyone else,” I said. “Too many people know.”
“The mastermage only knows who your parents are,” said Aunt Serena softly. “He doesn’t know about your other powers or the amulet. My father felt that it was important for the professor to know enough to keep an eye on you and see that you are safe. The Dekela family were staunch supporters of your father. He will not betray you.”
I nodded and gingerly climbed the steps up to the large white stone house, which was to be my home for the next year. It was charming and quaint, and I was quite sure I would be happy here.
My dormitory was full of girls of all shapes and sizes. It was buzzing like a beehive when I got there, but when I entered, everyone stopped to look at me.
The new girl!
I looked down at my feet. I hated people looking at me and talking about me; it made me feel very awkward.
A girl wearing blue mage robes introduced herself as a third-year student and showed me to my room, which was situated on the first floor of the house where the first-year mages lived. Aunt Serena left me to unpack af
ter a quick farewell hug.
My room was comfortable and airy, with a big window sporting green and yellow curtains. Two white, wrought-iron beds covered with cozy white blankets with sunflowers embroidered on them; two wooden closets painted white; a matching chest of drawers; and a fluffy, green rug completed the room.
I stowed the trunk that Aunt Serena had given me under the bed and put the rest of my things in the drawers and closet. I wondered who my roommate would be. Whoever it was already had her closet full and had taken the top two drawers of the dresser. At least she had left me the last two.
After I finished unpacking, my roommate walked in. She was the same age as me and also in the first year. She had long, wavy golden-brown hair the color of fresh honey and was wearing green robes over thick tights and a long white shirt belted at the waist.
“I’m Vivienne Foxmoor,” said my roommate, taking off her robes and flinging them over a chair, “and you are?”
“Um, Rory.” I felt like kicking myself for hesitating.
“Hi Rory.” Vivienne bounced herself on her bed, over by the window. “Where are you from? What house do you belong to?”
When I looked flustered, she elaborated. “What’s your family name?”
I explained to her that I was from Andrysia and how my parents had died, and that now I was a ward of the duke.
Vivienne raised her eyebrows. “So you are a Silverthorne!”
I looked down. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I’m only a ward of the duke, not really a Silverthorne.”
She waved her hand in a shooing gesture. “Being a ward is like being his daughter or granddaughter here in Eldoren,” Vivienne explained. “You are now a Silverthorne, so get used to it.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say to this. Vivienne seemed nice, and she was quite knowledgeable about the city of Neris and the nobility. Her father was the fifth earl of Foxmoor, and she had two older brothers, Nathan and Fredrick. Besides her father, she was the only one in the family who had magic, so she had been sent to Evolon.
I was glad I had Vivienne to talk to, but I had to be careful to not give myself away.
“Come on,” said Vivienne, after we had chatted for hours. “Let’s see if there is still any dinner remaining.”
We crept downstairs. The house was quiet and dark, and most of the girls had gone to sleep. Vivienne led me to the kitchen, where slices of cold roast beef and cheese lay waiting on the middle table.
The kitchen was a lovely, high-ceilinged room with a long wooden worktable and benches in the center. In the middle of one wall, the last embers of a fire were flickering in the large fireplace. Along the other wall were a brick oven and a large washing tub. We ate our midnight snack in silence, crept back upstairs, and climbed into bed.
That night, I slept very little. I kept having dreams of standing in a classroom with everyone laughing at me. Then Rafe was there, as he always was in my recent dreams, but I could only see his back. I called out to him, but he was walking away from me on the arm of another girl whose face I couldn’t see. They were laughing and cuddling as if they were having a marvelous time, and Rafe never even turned to look at me. I tossed and turned the whole night and was still awake when the sun rose from the Stardust Sea in the early hours of first light.
The next morning, I got out of bed early, since I was already awake. The crisp morning air was chilly, and I dressed quickly, trying to figure out how my new uniform was to be worn.
The novices all wore the same thing: ankle-length robes with a white, full-sleeved shirt under a leather vest that was to be tied in the front with laces. This was worn over thick tights tucked into sturdy leather boots. The color of the robe indicated the year the mage was in. Novices all wore green, the second-years wore red robes, third-years wore blue, and fourth-years wore purple. When it was cold, we had a standard brown cloak that all the students wore.
I was anxious about my first day and didn’t want to be late. The dining table in my dorm house was laid with freshly cooked eggs, bowls of fruit, and little pots of butter and jam interspaced about the table. Big jugs of cream accompanied the blueberries that were placed in tiny bowls. Jugs of different fruit juices and milk, and baskets of freshly baked bread, cakes, and flaky jam-filled pastries, along with bowls of porridge, cheese, and some sort of cured meats filled in the gaps. A few of the girls were already there, eating and chatting away.
When I came in, they ignored me. Vivienne was already sitting at the end of a table eating. She waved me over, so I found myself a place at the end of the bench near her, sat down, and quickly ate my breakfast.
Vivienne and I had classes together, so that would be fun. I consulted my scroll as to where our first class was.
Evolon was like no school I had ever been to. Although the classes involved students and a teacher, that is where the similarities stopped. Most of the classes were held outdoors—in courtyards near fountains, under the shade of an old oak, or down in the gardens where a marquee was set up to shade us from the sun. And as if the whole place weren’t confusing enough, the classes kept moving locations, so if you didn’t check the board in the main hall every day you might have to end up trudging miles back from a class that had already moved. To top it all off, the classes were not all in the same structure.
There was a separate area on the grounds for warrior skills, a different house for healing studies, and one for transformation and illusion skills. Alchemy was all the way on the other side of the campus because the students frequently blew things up. Ancient studies, history, and political studies were located in the best house of all: the library.
I checked my schedule; my first class was history. That seemed quite normal, except it wasn’t, really. I would be learning about the history of a world I never knew existed until a few weeks ago. One thing I was definitely looking forward to was learning about my heritage. I had read a few books when I was at Silverthorne Castle, and most of them mentioned my father’s or mother’s names at some point, or one of their ancestors. It was quite fascinating, learning about my family in this way.
Vivienne and I strode along the flower-lined walkways that intersected in a maze of confusing paths, sometimes leading to a frustrating dead end. Finally, we had to climb over three flowerbeds and under one bush to get to the broad avenue that led to the library, the largest mansion on the property.
I was picking leaves out of my hair and smoothing my robes when I saw it. According to Vivienne, the academy’s library was famous throughout the whole kingdom and beyond for housing the greatest collection of knowledge, second only to the knowledge of the fae, who had lived in this world longer than any other race.
It was a fantastic structure that looked a lot like a sixteenth-century manor house. Wisteria had climbed the walls of the front façade, which was huge and imposing, and two additional wings led out at right angles toward the sea. It stood on the highest point of the university grounds, on a cliff overlooking the clear blue waters of the Bay of Pearls. The main avenue leading to it was lined with cherry blossoms and packed with scurrying students eager to get to their classes and not turn up late. We hurried along too, climbing up the large stone steps, through the oak doors, and into the library.
The inside of the massive building was just as wonderful; the foyer was a majestic, high-ceilinged room with a grand staircase and corridors leading to classes on the first floor. The whole ground floor consisted of reading rooms, which all opened up into each other. Shelves upon shelves of thousands of books, worn and bound in brown leather, lined the walls, reaching all the way to the top of the high, oak-beamed ceiling. Small tables and benches had been placed in all the rooms, and students quietly worked at their studies while library monitors prowled the corridors. One big table where the chief librarian sat was placed in the center of the massive foyer.
I climbed the stairs and followed the signs to my classroom, which was all the way at the end of the west wing of the structure. I wanted to sit at the back, but Vivienne, who
was obviously an extremely eager student, pulled me up to sit in the front with her. I was always very conscious of sitting in the front, not because I didn’t want to learn, but because I was afraid the teacher might call on me or ask me a question, and I wasn’t ready for that.
The class was already full, and the professor, dressed in black robes lined with silver, entered as the last of the students trickled in. She faced the class and waved her hand in a flick; the door slammed shut behind her. “I am Professor Plumpleberry.”
I was relieved. If Penelope was teaching this class, I would be okay. I noted a few girls giggling. Professor Plumpleberry did not hear them or simply chose to ignore them. I had to admit it was a funny name, especially since it suited her so well.
Professor Plumpleberry was not what you would expect of a history and ancient studies teacher. Although I knew she was fae, I wasn’t sure the others had noticed yet. She looked so young and was suitably plump with curly, white-blonde hair. But I knew she was a very old fae and highly skilled at magic.
“Good morning, everyone,” Professor Plumpleberry said jovially, hovering two feet off the ground.
Some of the others gasped. I grinned; I was happy to see Penelope.
“For those of you who have looks on your faces that would give the village idiot a run for his money,” Professor Plumpleberry said, tucking her hair behind her pointed ears, “I am one of the fae, and I am three hundred and ninety-three years old. So if any of you do not think I am qualified to teach ancient studies, you can go to another school. I hear Nerenor has a history teacher who is well into his fifties. I’m sure he can give you as much illumination on the state of our world two or three hundred years ago.”
Everyone in the room was now quiet, and the giggling girls had promptly shut up.
Penelope’s cerulean eyes narrowed. “He can give you facts, figures, and embellishments written by biased men, but I can give you the truth. For instance”—she paused dramatically, the class now hanging on her every word—“I was there when Dorian the Fourth was king. I watched as his son, Tristan the Third, slew the Gorgoth with his bare hands.”
The Last of the Firedrakes (The Avalonia Chronicles Book 1) Page 16