“Dismiss half of your guard, and I will consent to the girl’s testing,” Lachlan capitulates.
Commander Vin eyes Lachlan with amused suspicion, then gestures toward Lukas with her chin. “Dismiss him, and I will agree to it. We all know that your young lieutenant is equal to ten of us.”
Lachlan’s eyes flick back and forth from Lukas to the Vu Trin guard. “Very well. Lukas, you are dismissed.”
Lukas makes no move to release my arm.
“Please,” I beg them, the word bursting out. “I just want to see my brothers.”
“Silence, Gardnerian!” Commander Vin snarls. Her hostility sends me inwardly reeling.
“Lukas,” Lachlan says firmly, his eyes belying a steely confidence, “you will accompany the Vu Trin guard to their western base.” He raises his brow at Commander Vin. “Agreed?”
Commander Vin nods.
Lukas stares hard into his father’s eyes. His hand loosens from my arm.
I hold on to his tunic, heart racing. “No, please. Don’t leave me!”
He turns to me and places both hands on my arms. “Elloren, they’re going to test you, and then they will talk. There’s enough of our Mage Guard here to ensure your safety.”
“No!” I try to cling to him, but firm hands pull me back.
There’s a flash of indecision in Lukas’s eyes, but then his face hardens and he turns away. I watch, despairing, as he strides out of the room flanked by ten Vu Trin sorceresses and a contingent of Elfhollen.
Desperation takes hold. I struggle against the hands that restrain me, tears stinging at my eyes. “Let me go!” I insist. “My brothers are here. I need to find them...”
And then Commander Vin is before me. She stares me down, her eyes narrowed to hostile slits.
I stop struggling and shrink back from her.
“Elloren Gardner,” she says, steel in her eyes, “you will come with us.”
CHAPTER TWO
Wandtesting
They lead me to an underground military armory, the huge, circular room stocked with weaponry of every size. Swords, knives, terrifying razored chains and other objects of mutilation hang thick on the stone walls.
“Elloren Gardner,” Commander Kam Vin orders as the door closes behind us, “you will explain the extent of your training.”
“Training?” I croak out. What on Erthia is she talking about?
The Vu Trin sorceress narrows her eyes at me. “Yes, your training. In the martial arts.”
“I... I don’t understand,” I stammer, bewildered.
She purses her lips and starts pacing, her black cloak billowing behind her, never taking her eyes off me, looking at me as though I’m a dangerous, unpredictable animal.
“What kind of wandwork have you done, Mage Gardner?” she persists.
I’m completely lost. “I don’t...we never had wands...”
She stops pacing and points at me for emphasis. “Mage Gardner, answer the question! I will ask again. What type of wandwork have you done?”
“None!” I cry, holding my hands out, palms up.
“What about swordwork?” she asks slyly, as if she’s caught on to the game I’m playing.
“None!” I insist. “Why are you asking me...?”
“Knife magic?”
“What? No!”
“Caledonian stick fighting?”
“No!”
“Asteroth staff work?”
She goes on and on through a list of about twenty more forms of fighting I have never heard of in my life. I’m lost in a wilderness of confusion.
“No!” I finally cry in frustration. “I’ve never done any of these things!”
She pauses and glares at me, her brow furrowing sharply before she continues pacing. “Your uncle, he has not given you any training in the martial arts?”
My confusion spikes. “No, of course not. He’s a violin maker!”
“But surely he must have given you a wand.”
I shake my head vehemently. “He didn’t even allow them in the house.” The image of Sage’s white wand briefly flickers through my mind.
The sorceress eyes me with disbelief, one hand placed squarely on her hip. “Do not play games with me, Elloren Gardner! Your uncle must have armed you in some way.”
“He didn’t,” I bite out. “Uncle Edwin doesn’t like violence.”
Commander Vin freezes in her tracks and looks at me like I’ve started speaking some unintelligible language. “What?” she spits out.
“Uncle Edwin doesn’t like...”
“I heard what you said!”
“Then why did you...”
“What have you been doing, then?”
“What do you mean?”
“At your uncle’s house!”
I glare at her, frustration boiling over. “Tending the garden, taking care of the animals.” I’m careful not to mention the violins. Females aren’t supposed to apprentice as luthiers, and I don’t want to get Uncle Edwin in trouble with these horrible people. “I read, make herbal remedies. And...and sometimes I make wooden toys...”
“Toys?”
“Little animal figurines, mostly.” I shrug. “Sometimes doll furniture. My uncle sells them at the market...”
The Elfhollen, who have been standing very still and regarding me coldly, venture small looks of surprise at each other.
“You are being evasive!” the sorceress grinds out as she points an accusatory finger at me. “Arm yourself, Gardnerian!”
One of the sorceress’s underlings steps forward and hands me a smooth, polished wand of Red Oak.
Commander Vin points to a table across the room, where a small, unlit candle in a brass holder is placed. “You will now produce a flame.”
I look down at the wand in my hand then back at her, dumbfounded. “How?”
“Mage Gardner, do not feign ignorance with me! It is the simplest of spells!”
“I don’t know any spells!”
“Bring her the grimoire, Myn!” the sorceress barks in the direction of her underling.
Myn brings me a book and flips the worn pages open. “Aim your wand and speak these words,” she instructs stiffly.
I look the words over. They seemed vaguely familiar. Like something from a dream. A dream with fire.
I lift the wand awkwardly and point it at the candle. “Illiumin...” I begin, my voice high and shaky.
Commander Vin lets out a sound of impatient disgust. “Elloren Gardner!” she barks. “You are holding the wand incorrectly. You must make contact with the palm, or the wand energy cannot flow through you.”
I rearrange the wand so that one end is pressing against my palm and point it at the candle once more. My hand shaking, I lift the grimoire and begin to speak the words of the candle-lighting spell.
As soon as the words roll off my lips, a pure, crackling energy begins to prick at the balls of my feet, and the image of an immense tree bursts into the back of my mind. I gasp as a much larger jolt of energy shoots up through me toward the wand, slams against it and then violently and painfully ricochets backward through me.
I drop the wand and it falls to the floor with a sharp clank.
Stunned, I looked over at the candle.
Nothing. Not even a tendril of smoke. But my arm aches as if it’s been burned from within.
What just happened?
Lachlan Grey and the other Gardnerian soldiers look heavily disappointed. The sorceresses and Elfhollen seem to be breathing sighs of relief. Only Commander Vin appears momentarily unnerved as she stares, eyes riveted on the painful wand arm I’m flexing to quell the discomfort.
“Well,” Commander Vin begins, her momentarily rattled expression gone, her face once again im
passive as she addresses Lukas’s father. “It would appear, Lachlan, that Mage Gardner is definitively not the next Black Witch.”
“I did try to tell you,” I murmur, the pain in my arm having morphed into a throbbing ache. But that monstrous energy. What was that?
“Elloren Gardner,” Lukas’s father formally announces, “you are hereby placed at Gardnerian Wand Level One.”
The lowest level possible—no magic whatsoever.
I stare at him as certainty rises within me like black water.
I might not be able to access power, but it’s there. Some echo of the Black Witch. Deep inside me. Coursing through my veins.
Possibly waiting for release.
CHAPTER THREE
Orientation
When Echo Flood enters the room, the soldiers look relieved to be handing me off to her.
My head spins with confusion. “Echo, why are you here? Why didn’t my brothers come for me? And Gareth?”
“Lukas sent for me,” she explains, her large eyes solemn with concern.
“My brothers,” I ask, feeling lost. “Where are they?”
“They were delayed,” Echo explains. “They were caught in the storm, and Gareth’s horse panicked at the thunder. The horse threw him and he broke his leg. They had to double back to Valgard to find a healer.”
“Oh, no.” I struggle to fight back tears. I need to see my family. I don’t want to be alone here.
“Come,” Echo says softly as she places her hand on my arm. “The High Chancellor is addressing all of the scholars. We need to take our places with them.”
* * *
I stay close to Echo’s side as we step into the White Hall.
It’s the largest interior I’ve ever seen, the vast sea of scholars momentarily overwhelming me, the smell of wet wool and lamp oil thick on the dank air.
We’re in an open, curved walkway that rings the entire hall, the Spine-stone floor beneath us mottled with damp, overlapping bootprints.
The domed roof stretches high overhead, a bat wheeling back and forth across the vast space, paintings of constellations on a night sky set high into the sectional dome, a ring of huge, arching windows just beneath. Colorful Guild banners hang below every window, a cacophony of primary colors, silver and gold, some of the banners marked with foreign words in exotic, curling alphabets.
My eyes light on the Apothecary Guild banner. The Gardnerian Guild banners are easy to pick out with their black backgrounds.
Like spokes on some great wheel, long aisles connect the external curving walkway to a central raised dais, where an elderly, white-bearded man stands before a podium. His dark green robe is distinguished by golden trim, his thin voice echoing off the stonework as he directs two latecomer Kelts toward empty seats up front.
Echo leans in, her eyes set on the elderly man. “High Chancellor Abenthy.”
Rows of green-robed professors flank the High Chancellor, their robes uniform, but their faces reflecting a multitude of races.
“Come,” Echo prompts gently, motioning ahead. “I have seats for us.”
I nod, my eyes furtively casting around. The storm-dimmed twilight seems to be seeping through the very walls, aisle lamps on long stands fighting against the shadows with small dandelion puffs of light.
The scholars are heavily segregated into ethnic groups, the darkly clad Gardnerians standing out in sharp relief against the grouping of Elves, the Elves’ blindingly ivory cloaks illuminating their section of the hall.
We start down a side aisle cutting through Gardnerian scholars to the left, Kelts to the right. Kicking up like dust, a small buzz of conversation follows me, my grandmother’s name whispered over and over, awed looks from the Gardnerian side, dark glowering from the Kelts. I stiffen, self-consciously aware of the unwanted attention.
As I follow Echo by the Gardnerian sea of black, my eye is drawn to a subsection of slate gray–uniformed Gardnerians.
Military apprentices.
And within their grouping is a lone, uniformed female, a ring of black-clad Gardnerian soldiers seated around her.
Fallon Bane. And her military guard.
I catch her eye as we pass, and my stomach twists.
She shoots me a dark grin and discreetly reaches for the wand fastened to her belt. She angles it toward me and gives it a small jerk.
I exhale sharply as my foot painfully hits something solid and I trip over it, toppling down to the damp floor.
Small sounds of surprise go up around me.
The floor is cold and gritty and smells like the bottoms of wet boots, and my hands sting from smacking it. For a brief second I lay there as embarrassment washes over me.
A strong hand grabs hold of my arm, effortlessly helping me to my feet.
I look up into the most riveting eyes I’ve ever seen, even more so than the Valgard Selkie’s. They’re bright amber and glow in an inhuman way that seems almost feral.
The eyes belong to a lean, sandy-haired young man wearing simple, earth-toned clothing. His calm, friendly expression stands out in bold contrast to those fierce eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks kindly.
“Yes. Thank you,” I say, heart racing. My head whips around to see what I tripped over. There’s nothing there. The aisle is clear. I glance over at Fallon, who’s regarding me with a malicious grin, and a spasm of alarm shoots through me.
She did it. She tripped me.
Fallon’s smile curls even farther upward as she sees the growing dread on my face.
I turn back toward the strange young man, gratitude washing over me.
“Unhand her,” Echo orders him, glaring. “I’ll help her the rest of the way.”
There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes before his face goes tight with offense. He releases me at once.
Echo grabs hold of me and decidedly tugs me away.
“He helped me,” I whisper as she firmly guides me along, accusation in my tone. “What’s wrong? Who is he?”
She glances over at me, her eyes sharp. “One of the Lupines.”
Startled, I look back to where the strange young man is now seated in with the Kelts. He gives me a small smile, which eases my alarm and piques my curiosity. Next to him sits a beautiful girl with long blond hair, plain clothing and the same wild, amber eyes. She sits like she’s royalty, her chin held high, and regards me with barely disguised contempt.
The Lupine twins.
I remember the sordid gossip, the shocking stories about nudity and public mating. About how Lupine males go after any women they can get their hands on. I glance back toward the Lupines and wonder if there’s truth in any of it. I’m so curious about them, but I also feel a twinge of guilt to be thinking about such indecent things.
Finally, we reach our place and Echo guides me, to my immense relief, toward a seat between herself and Aislinn Greer.
As I sit down, Aislinn puts her arm around me and hands me a stack of papers.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking them.
“Maps,” she says. “Your lecture schedule. Lodging and labor assignments. When I heard what happened, I went to the Records Master and got these for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, touched. I look to Aislinn and Echo with gratitude.
Echo pats my arm in solidarity, then focuses in with rapt attention as the High Chancellor begins his opening remarks.
I resentfully look back toward where Fallon is sitting. I can’t see her through the thick crowd.
“When I was walking up that aisle,” I whisper to Aislinn, “I think Fallon Bane tripped me...with magic.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she says, eyeing me gravely. “She’s not too happy about...um... Lukas and you.”
Where is Lukas? I grasp the papers in
my lap and bite worriedly at my lower lip. What’s he doing? Will he come for me at some point?
“Can Fallon do that?” I ask anxiously. “Can she conjure invisible objects? And trip people with them?”
“She’s a Level Five,” Aislinn replies with some incredulity. “Of course she can.” Perhaps seeing how upset I am, Aislinn pats my shoulder. “She won’t go too far, Elloren. You’re Carnissa Gardner’s granddaughter. If she hurts you, she’ll be dismissed from the Guard.” She eyes me ruefully. “Just...stay away from Lukas. Okay?”
I nod, fuming over Fallon’s casual cruelty. But it’s all easier said than done. How can I possibly stay away from Lukas with Aunt Vyvian bent on my wandfasting to him?
We fall silent as High Chancellor Abenthy begins lengthy introductions of each of the multitude of professors. He details their recent accomplishments to polite, scattered applause that blends in with the sound of the rain. The hall is so large, I have to strain to hear his thin, reedy voice.
Distracted by the wide variety of scholars, I venture a glance across the aisle toward the large grouping of Kelts. They’re very varied in appearance, with a rainbow of light hair shades, eye coloring and skin tones.
The Kelts are not a pure race like us. They’re more accepting of intermarriage, and because of this, they’re very mixed.
I notice that the Kelts’ clothing is varied as well, although uniformly not very fine. These are work clothes, homespun garb best suited for farm chores—the type I wear at home for comfort.
I suddenly feel weighed down and pinched in by my expensive layers of silk.
I miss Uncle Edwin and the comfort of home.
Does Uncle Edwin know about the Icaral attack? Has Aunt Vyvian sent out a runehawk to let him know what happened and that I’m okay?
My eyes are drawn to a stern-faced Keltic youth sitting directly across from us. He’s lanky, with brown hair and starkly angular features. He’s staring straight ahead with a look of great resolve as if it’s taking a huge effort to focus on the High Chancellor and not on something else.
He unexpectedly turns and fixes his startlingly golden-green eyes on me with a look of hatred so intense, I flinch back.
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