Serpent's Mark (Snakesblood Saga Book 1)

by Beth Alvarez

“Did you know two blue magelings quit the temple last week? Two! Can you imagine studying that long, only to give up one rank before Master?” Ran shook his head. The motion cast his sandy-colored hair into his eyes. He brushed it back, irritated. Even when he scowled that way, Kytenia found him charming. “No patience for decent opportunities to come along,” he muttered.

  “Oh, and you’re so comfortable waiting for opportunity to present itself?” Kytenia lifted an eyebrow and smiled at him. He gave her a dirty look and she returned her attention to the task at hand. Little jobs like mending were something she enjoyed. That she was doing it for Ran was just a bonus. Kytenia’s cheeks reddened at the thought and she tried not to look at him again.

  She’d been surprised when he’d caught her after class and asked her to mend a tear in his training uniform. Having spoken with Firal the night before, she knew what it was from, and she struggled to hide her amusement.

  “Quit looking so serious.” She tugged the new seam a little tighter. “You’re so much better to look at when you smile.”

  Ran snorted and his scowl deepened. “Are you done yet? I’m going to be late if you don’t hurry up.”

  “I wasn’t aware there were going to be more classes today.” Kytenia did not hurry, and instead maintained a steady pace of small, even stitches. She barely glanced up when a scullery maid passed by. The dinner hall had cleared out after the meal. Aside from the few maids gathering dishes, they were alone.

  Ran shifted on the table he used for a seat and let his eyes wander. “Not classes. Evaluations. They’re holding them early for higher-ranking students. From what I gather, the stress from evaluations is why magelings are leaving.”

  “It sounds like the Masters are being more aggresive than usual this year,” Kytenia said. “Maybe they’ll hold early evaluations for the lower ranks, too.” Ran’s blue robes in her hands were a harsh reminder of his place above her in the temple. If his evaluations went well, a yellow mageling like her would be far beneath his notice. She changed the subject.

  “I’ve heard the Masters are planning to allow a break after the solstice. Do you have plans to visit home?” The needle pricked her finger and she winced.

  “That depends,” Ran said slowly. The way his brows drew together gave her the impression the words were a burden. “On how evaluations turn out, that is.”

  “What do you mean?” Kytenia sucked her finger until the pain faded. “Will your parents be displeased if you don’t pass with flying colors?”

  He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. “Actually, passing is what I’m afraid of. If I do too well, the Masters will graduate me out of the temple before I’m ready to leave.”

  Surprised, she let her needle grow still. “Why wouldn’t you want to get out of here? There’s nothing I’d love more than to graduate and go back home. I could set up as the village healer like I’ve always planned. It would be wonderful.”

  “Because if I graduate, I have to go home for good. Not that staying here is much better.” It was hard to tell if the sour note in his voice was despair or irritation. He didn’t speak of home often, but it was clear he didn’t regard the place with the same love Kytenia felt for hers.

  She let the conversation drop, knotting the thread and cutting off the excess before returning his robes. “All done.”

  “Thanks.” Ran held up the garment to inspect it. Apparently satisfied, he pulled it on overhead and settled it on top of his plain tunic and trousers. The robes weren’t tailored, and were not particularly flattering to anyone. His was much too short; the sleeves ended closer to his elbow than his wrist. It looked odd. Kytenia itched to offer adjustments to correct the fit, but if he was in a hurry, now was not the time.

  “Good luck with your evaluations. I hope you fail.” She cringed at the way the words came out, but he laughed.

  “It’s an odd desire, I know. I’m sure you’ll hear how it turns out later.” He flashed her a grin that made her blush. “And thanks again, Kyt. I owe you one.”

  She laughed and waved a dismissive hand as he started off at an easy pace, but her smile only clung until she was alone in the quiet dining hall.

  Kytenia had never devoted a lot of thought to the ranks held by her friends. Firal was a rank above her. Ran was two. What would happen to their friendships when they graduated out and became Masters, scattered to the winds or put in positions of power over those they’d grown up with? Fraternization between magelings and Masters was forbidden. Would simple conversation become a thing of the past?

  Unsettled, Kytenia bowed her head and set to collecting her things.

  As much confidence as he put on, Ran couldn’t recall a time he’d been more reluctant to cross the temple courtyard. The wide doors of the Archmage’s tower stood open to the unusually pleasant day, but he stopped outside them and peered up the side of the tower. He already knew the Archmage meant to pass him to the next rank. That wasn’t the problem. He was more concerned with finding a way to stay in the temple. Not only because he didn’t want to go home, as he’d told Kytenia; more than anything, it was because he knew he wasn’t ready.

  Out of all the temple’s magelings, Ran was certain he ranked among the strongest. But despite his strength, his grasp of power and his technique wielding it left much to be desired. His knowledge was piecemeal, his power out of control. Had he been present for more lessons, perhaps that would have been different. Yet the Archmage wouldn’t have called him for an evaluation if she didn’t mean for him to graduate, indicating she cared little about his actual skill. His stomach twisted and he swallowed hard against the knot in his throat as he crossed the threshold into the tower.

  The first floor was pleasantly bright, despite its lack of windows. Ran wondered how many more chances he’d have to linger there. Low rows of shelving invited him to hide. The soothing scent of old books mingled with the fragrance from fresh-cut flowers from the gardens and he breathed deep. The library had always been his favorite part of the temple. Now, standing just inside the doorway, he feared this visit would be his last.

  He’d always known his position in the temple was precarious, and that the Archmage would find some way to use his Gift against him. Tradition dictated he shouldn’t have been allowed enrollment at all, unless he sacrificed the other half of his life and focused solely on magecraft. But his power was too dangerous to leave untrained, though he snorted at the idea it was trained at all. Ran knew just enough to pose a threat to anyone who crossed his path, but not enough to realize his full potential. He had long suspected the Masters kept it that way on purpose. Some treaty to harmonize the halves of who he was, perhaps.

  A staircase in the far corner led to the second floor, where more books waited. Ran scaled past them and climbed through floors that hosted offices, research rooms, studies, and the personal chambers of some of the oldest and highest ranking Masters. The doors that led to the Archmage’s office stood open in anticipation of his arrival. He grimaced when he saw her on the other side.

  “I haven’t all day,” Envesi said, a curt edge to her voice. “Come in, so I can get this over with.”

  Ran forced himself to stand up straight, but kept his eyes focused on the floor as he stepped in and shut the doors behind him. “I am ready to be tested, Archmage.”

  She sneered. “Your false humility is insulting. Stand still, I don’t need to see your abilities to gauge them.”

  He stopped in the center of the room and clenched his hands to fists at his sides as the Archmage circled him. He sensed the flow of power in her; her strength was exceptional, her presence almost overwhelming. It made him uncomfortable and he resisted the urge to shift.

  “I’ve been watching you,” Envesi said as she paced around him, her hands clasped behind her back. “You show no outward signs of growth. Your hair does not fade. Your eyes are not those of a mage at your level.” She made a small, disapproving sound in her throat and continued her circling. “If you wish to channel it with ease, you should
n’t be reluctant to let the power flow.”

  “Even if I allowed it to bleach my hair and eyes, would you really want a show of my power this early on?” He tried to keep it from sounding like a challenge. Though the temple offered him many privileges, she was his superior and demanded respect. At least, whenever she was within earshot.

  The Archmage’s silvery-blue eyes narrowed. “Do you even know the measure of your strength? Do you know its limits? Your power is unrefined. You have not chosen a direction to grow.”

  “I saw no need.” Ran lifted his chin to stare straight ahead. “Not every mage finds a specialty within their element. I see no reason to restrict myself to one skill.” The greatest Masters did not limit themselves, and he’d always assumed them right. Why ought a mage with an earth affinity restrict themselves to dirt and never touch stone? Why would a mage with an air affinity stir the clouds in the sky, but never think to move anything else with their power? He could imagine no greater waste.

  “Reasonable, but it does not exempt you from selecting an area to pursue as a specialty, and it does not explain why you fear your own strength.” She stopped before him and grasped his jaw. Her fingers dug into his flesh as she forced him to tilt his face down and look her in the eye. Her power gave the impression she had greater stature than what she actually possessed. The look on her face told him she didn’t like being reminded it was an illusion. “You’re young and your power is raw. You still require a good deal of training and refinement to be useful, but as I intended, your strength already surpasses that of some of our Masters. You need only be brave enough to unleash it.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Ran said.

  A smile played upon her lips. “Aren’t you?” She released his chin and chuckled to herself, gesturing to a chair as she returned to her desk. “Sit down, child.”

  He didn’t need to be instructed twice, seating himself as Envesi took a small vial from her desk. She held it to the light, tilted it and watched the glass gleam.

  “The time will come when our mages are hailed everywhere, recognized for their power. Already we are respected in both kingdoms on this island, given special privilege because of what we do. Soon, we shall spread that authority to the mainland, as well.” The Archmage smiled, though the expression was cold. “In you I see the fruition of my best laid plans. To see you as strong as you are now, as raw as your ability may be, is an interesting reflection of all we have accomplished.”

  “What you’ve accomplished?” Ran asked. “Or what you haven’t yet?”

  Her jaw clenched and she curled her fingers around the vial as she stalked toward his chair. “I grow tired of playing the king’s political games. I have my own duties and I am not here to hide his mistakes.” She caught hold of his hair and pulled back his head to peer into his vibrant blue eyes.

  He stared back, defiant.

  “Do not lose your fire, my child,” she whispered as she raised the vial. “That anger that simmers inside you will be the source of your power.”

  Ran didn’t have time to blink. Stinging droplets poured into one eye and then the other, blacking out his vision. He stifled a shout, his fingers digging at the seat of the chair. She held him fast, forcing him to keep his head back. He struggled to blink the ink away. Tears welled in his eyes before he finally squeezed them shut.

  “Good boy.” She watched in satisfaction as the black drops rolled from the corners of his eyes and left dark trails in their wake. She dabbed away the excess ink with a stained cloth and blew gently to dry the markings before she allowed him to sit upright.

  “What was that?” Ran snapped. His hands went to his face as he fought the impulse to rub his smarting eyes. His vision was blurred, but he glared nonetheless.

  “Graduation, my child. As a Master assigned to the king’s court, you may use your magic however you see fit. Only the Masters of the affinities and the head of the court mages hold rank over you.” Envesi smiled grimly. She pressed the ink vial into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers around it. “You may choose your own markings. I suggest a great deal of practice before you present yourself in public. With time, you will grow used to the sting.”

  Ran’s face twitched into a scowl. With how badly his eyes hurt, he doubted that.

  The Archmage stepped back and flicked her fingers toward the door. “You may now return home.”

  “I don’t want to go home.” The burning in his eyes lingered long after the shadow of the ink was dispelled from his vision.

  “Why? Do you not wish for freedom?” The Archmage’s expression was more challenge than question.

  Ran hesitated. His gaze from her face to the vial of ink in his hand. “I’m not ready to face him.”

  “I see.” Envesi cut a path to the tray-laden table against the wall. “Do you wish to stay here, then? We’ve always been happy to make exceptions for you.” She moved a polished silver cup to the edge of the table and filled it from a matching coffee pot.

  “Because of my power?” The words bubbled on the tip of his tongue like acid. “Is that why you’d keep me here? So that you might use me?”

  The Archmage thunked the coffee pot against the table. “Do not challenge me, boy. No matter how strong you think your magic, you cannot stand against me. You are a tool, nothing more. Do not let your upbringing convince you otherwise.”

  “You insult my strength and my family.” Ran’s shoulders tensed as he rose from his chair. “Interesting.”

  “I may insult you as I wish. Don’t you remember who brought you here? Who gave you permission to break every precedent the Masters set? It was not your noble father, I can assure you that.” Envesi rolled her eyes and almost laughed. “I refuse to tolerate ungratefulness. Rein in your tongue, boy.”

  “Have I not done everything you asked of me?” Frustration made his throat grow thick and his voice climbed in volume. “I’ve learned everything the Masters offered! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Please.” Envesi took a long sip of her coffee. “I merely hoped for a powerful soldier. You deliver in all the wrong situations, and my recent dealings with Kifel leave me with no patience for an impudent whelp who is not even of Eldani blood.”

  The insult cut deep and Ran’s power stirred with his rising anger. He caught it and struggled to contain it. Magic was sensitive to emotion, and she was right; anger did fuel his strength. He refused to let it rule.

  “Very well,” Envesi said, the curl at the corner of her mouth indicating she’d enjoyed his brief struggle. “You wish to stay here? So be it. You have not outlived your usefulness. From this moment forward, you shall consider yourself leashed.” Her cup clicked against its saucer, crisp and final. “You will play the part of lap dog for your beloved king, but remember who holds your lead.”

  The suggestion that lurked between her words fell on him like the kingdom’s weight. From any other mouth, that order would have bordered on treason. Mages were afforded a great deal of power, but spying on the king? Ran bristled, but forced his expression to remain neutral. He’d gotten what he wanted. Permission to stay. Everything else could be dealt with later. He slid the ink vial into a hidden pocket in his robes and bowed his head. “Understood.”

  Envesi waved a hand toward the door. “Now get out of my sight.”

  Gritting his teeth, Ran offered an insincere bow and excused himself from the Archmage’s office. His eyes still burned and his new role scorched his stomach like ice. He walked faster to escape the tower and clawed his blue robes off over his head.

  The growl of distant thunder made Firal wince. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have been concerned, but each untimely rainstorm reduced her chances of finding her journal still intact. This was her third excursion in effort to find it, and she’d resigned herself to the knowledge that her book would not outlive another storm.

  Her mother’s pendant was another story.

  While she tempered her expectations, Firal couldn’t shake excitement over the impending tri
p to the palace from her head. A chance to speak to the court mages was a chance to get answers no one in the temple could provide. But without her necklace, she had nothing to support her claim her mother had served as part of the king’s court, nothing to convince the court mages to give her the information she so desperately sought. The journal could be replaced, but she needed that necklace, no matter what.

  Clouds had drifted in from the horizon, covering the sky in a blanket of soft gray. The position of the sun had grown hard to distinguish, and the biting edge to the breeze indicated the rain would be cold. Firal shrugged her cloak forward and hugged it close around her shoulders. She tried to recall the twists of the hallways, but the corridor she was in looped back on itself and made it difficult to keep her bearings. In passing, she considered climbing on top of a wall for a better view of where she was going, but she doubted the walls could support her weight.

  Although the walls throughout the ruins had decayed, the worst of the damage seemed to be at the edges. The farther she went, the more solid they appeared. A few walls still lay crumbling, the stone covered in moss and lichen or swallowed by ferns and creeping vines. Deeper in, the plant life was more vibrant. Vines and bushes bloomed with oddly shaped flowers, and colorful hanging mosses dangled from the tops of the walls. A fully-grown tree loomed over the ruins not far ahead and, despite the coming storm, its presence piqued her curiosity. Firal was familiar with the saplings that grew in the outer rings, but she’d never seen a mature tree.

  The plants that choked the path tripped her as she tried to get past them and she leaned against the wall to free her sandal from a tangle of vines. The unbeaten path bulged where the tree’s knobby roots pushed through and the walls buckled where the stones had been displaced. Brushing dirt off her hands, Firal crept around the corner toward the tree.

  An elliptical room opened before her and her breath caught. Despite all her exploration, she’d never found any rooms. Broken pillars indicated there had once been a ceiling. The tree replaced it now, growing in the very center of the space. Its canopy was flat on the underside and gave it the distinct look of a mushroom. Rounded fruits the size of eggs hung from its branches, their rinds a varied sprinkle of purple and blue among the leaves.