Demons. The dogs had been possessed, had risen again as ghouls.
The dead dogs stalked towards her in eerie silence, still moving with that ghastly jerking motion.
Rachaelis wanted to run, to find someplace to hide, but the stone hall was bare. She heard the dogs’ claws tap against the stone floor as they drew closer, muzzles peeling back from fangs, the stink of blood growing overwhelming…
Wait. The Testing. Three kinds of astralfire, blue, silver, and white. Blue harmed material things. Silver destroyed magical spells. And white harmed immaterial creatures, things from the astral realm.
Like demons.
The ghoul-dogs were almost upon her. Rachaelis screamed, flung out her hand, and loosed the power. A sheet of white flame shot from her fingers in a fan, slamming into the dogs. The ghouls shuddered, limbs flailing, and the red glare in their eyes vanished in a searing white glow. They collapsed the floor as the white astralfire devoured the demons, reducing the ghouls to dead flesh once more.
The fire winked out, and Rachaelis stared at the dogs, breathing hard, watching them for any trace of movement.
Instead she saw a silver flash, and Magister Jonas reappeared.
“You have passed the third trial,” said Jonas, and an ornate stone archway appeared out of nowhere on the dais. “You may proceed to the next.”
“That was,” said Rachaelis, still looking at the dead dogs. “That was cruel.”
Something flickered in Jonas’s eyes. “You may proceed to the next.”
Rachaelis walked around him and entered the arch, taking care not to step in the puddles of blood.
When the silver light cleared, she felt sand beneath her bare feet, coarse and gritty. She stood in a small arena, similar to those that hosted gladiatorial games in the city. Rows of tiered seats rose over her, stretching away into a colorless black sky.
Arthain Kalarien stood in the overseer’s box, hand resting on the railing.
“The fourth trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Arthain, his voice booming over the sands. “Mastery of astralfire is well and good, but often you will need to defend yourself in situations of life and death, in trials that will wrack your mind and body alike.”
He gestured at iron gates below the railing.
“When those gates open, you will be attacked by twelve gladiators. Eleven are illusionary. One is real. And he has been promised his freedom, should he rend you from your life.”
Rachaelis blinked. The Magisters wanted her to kill a man?
“Defend yourself!” said Arthain, and the iron gates swung open with a clang.
Men rushed out, wearing the masked helmets and spiked shoulder plates of gladiators. Each carried a short sword and a round shield. And each man looked perfectly identical to the other.
They sprinted towards her, and there was no time for sensing spells, no time to think. Rachaelis threw out her hands and called forth silver astralfire. Silver flame lashed out in a cone, billowed across the sandy ground, and struck the charging gladiators. All but one vanished as the silver astralfire collapsed the illusion spells. The last gladiator, the real gladiator, charged at Rachaelis, sword drawn back to kill her with one mighty blow.
Rachaelis swung her fist to meet him, blue astralfire seeping between her fingers.
But the gladiator pivoted at the last moment, and lashed out with his shield instead of his sword. Rachaelis’s astralfire blasted away the top half of his shield, but the rest slammed into her torso, sent her stumbling back a half-dozen steps to land hard in the sand.
The gladiator sprang after her, sword plunging down.
Rachaelis flung herself sideways, and the blade plunged through the space her neck had occupied a heartbeat before, burying itself in the sand. She rolled to one knee, hand coming up. The gladiator wrenched his blade free and lunged at her, sword stabbing for her heart.
But Rachaelis was faster this time. Azure flame blasted from her palm, hammering into the gladiator’s face and chest. She heard him scream as the fire ripped away his helmet and sent him tumbling to the ground. Rachaelis scrambled to her feet, ready for another spell.
But it was over. The gladiator lay on the ground, smoke rising from the livid burns on his chest and jaw. The smell of burned flesh was horrible. Rachaelis felt her gorge rise. Good thing she had been too nervous to eat for the last few days.
She looked down at herself and flinched. Bruises covered her hip and side, and blood trickled from scrapes on her belly and breasts.
A silver flash, and Magister Arthain appeared on the other side of the wounded gladiator.
“Finish him,” said Arthain.
Rachaelis shook her head.
“Finish him,” repeated Arthain. “He dared to lift his hand against an Initiate of the Conclave. Such impudence must be punished. Kill him, now.”
“No,” said Rachaelis.
Arthain’s lip curled in contempt. “Those who would strike at you must die, Initiate. You are too soft. Those who attack an Adept must perish.”
Rachaelis glared at him. “This man did not attack me of his own will. You told him he would have his freedom if he struck me down. So it seems that you struck at me, and he was only your tool. Does that mean I should strike you down?”
Arthain’s cold green eyes narrowed, and for a moment Rachaelis thought that he would attack her.
“You have passed the fourth trial, Initiate,” said Arthain. “You need only defend yourself, not kill your attacker. Even if slaying your attacker is the path of wisdom.” He gestured, and the ornate stone archway appeared before the iron gates. “You may proceed to the next trial.”
“What about him?” said Rachaelis.
Arthain’s voice was iron. “Proceed, Initiate.”
Rachaelis glared at him for a moment longer, then stalked through the archway.
When the astraljump ended, she stood in a narrow stone corridor, the walls meeting in an arch twenty feet over her head. Magister Arthain stood fifteen paces away, his cortana ready in his hand.
“The fifth trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Arthain, gesturing with the cortana. “You have demonstrated mastery of astralfire.” His lip curled. “If barely. But an Adept must be able to defend himself, as well as to attack.” He lifted the cortana. “Defend yourself from steel. Now.”
He raced at her, blood-colored robes billowing, cortana drawn back for a slash. But Rachaelis had seen the test coming this time. Even as he moved, she cast a spell. A shimmering halo of blue light appeared around her, a ward to guard against material objects. A heartbeat later Arthain’s cortana came crashing down, only to rebound from the ward in a spray of sparks. The old man recovered his balance and swung thrice more. Each time Rachaelis felt the strain upon her will as the blade struck against her spell, but each time she held the defensive ward in place.
“Well enough,” said Arthain, returning his cortana to its scabbard. “You may release the ward, Initiate.”
Rachaelis did so, and Arthain backed away a dozen steps, flexing his fingers.
“You will also need to defend yourself from magical attack,” said Arthain. “Ward yourself from blue astralfire, Initiate. Now.”
Even as he spoke, his hands came up, blue fire crackling around his fingertips.
Rachaelis cast her own spell, and an aura of silver light appeared around her. An instant later Arthain struck with his own spell, azure astralfire hammering into Rachaelis’s ward. She gasped and stumbled back a step, agony shooting through her skull. Arthain was strong, hideously strong; trying to block the Magister’s astralfire was like trying to stop a charging bull with her thoughts alone.
But she did it.
Again Arthain struck, and again, his astralfire filling the corridor with dazzling blue light. Rachaelis gritted her teeth, sweat pouring down her face. Her ward flickered and crackled, but held against Arthain’s attack.
At last Arthain lowered his hands. “It seems you are as strong as Talvin thought.”
Rachaeli
s said nothing, blinking sweat from her eyes. Arthain had done his very best to kill her. She wondered how many Initiates Arthain had killed, if he had tried to kill Thalia when she had undergone the Testing.
“You have passed the fifth trial, Initiate,” said Arthain, and the stone archway appeared between them. “You may proceed to the next.”
She entered the arch.
When the astraljump ended, Rachaelis found herself sitting in a stone chair, the marble chill against her thighs and back. Magister Nazim sat across from her in an identical chair, his lined face tight with concern. Rachaelis swallowed as she looked at him. Magister Nazim had been her favorite teacher? Would he try to kill her now, as Arthain and Jonas had?
“The sixth trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Nazim, leaning forward. “An Adept must have a disciplined mind, one able to defend itself from attack, whether from demons or practitioners of forbidden arts. I shall invade your mind. You must repulse me. Do you understand?”
Rachaelis nodded.
“Then we begin,” said Nazim, his black eyes staring into hers.
At once Rachaelis felt the presence of his mind digging into her thoughts. It was as if an invisible hand sifted through her brain, clawing its way into her mind and body. Rachaelis shuddered, gritted her teeth, and fought back. She visualized her mind becoming a fortress, her thoughts becoming towers and battlements and walls, and they did so. Nazim’s will battered against her mental fortress, like tides crashing against a rock, and sooner or later he would break through.
Then a different approach occurred to Rachaelis.
She changed her thoughts from a fortress to a hand, reached out, and caught Nazim’s will in her own. The Magister’s eyes went wide, and through their mental connection she felt his astonishment. She pushed, driving his will back, and suddenly she was in his mind. Images from his memories filtered into her thoughts; a dark-eyed woman, weeping in grief, a child in chains, the reeking hold of a ship…
“Enough,” croaked Nazim, gesturing. A burst of silver astralfire washed over Rachaelis in a tingling chill, disrupting both of their spells, and the mental connection vanished. “Enough.” He chuckled. “Ah, but I told Talvin you were capable, child.”
“Did I hurt you?” said Rachaelis.
Nazim smiled. “A little. But it is my own fault. I should have been better prepared. You have passed the sixth trial, Initiate.” The archway appeared next to the stone chairs. “You may proceed to the next.”
Rachaelis rose. Another wave of dizziness washed over her, worse than before. She was pushing herself too hard, using too much magical power. Sooner or later her strength would fail.
“A moment,” said Nazim. “Listen to me, child. You are doing well. Many Initiates do not make it this far. But the worst is to come. Do you understand? Keep your wits about you, and your guard up. That is all I can say.”
Rachaelis nodded.
“Good luck,” said Nazim, “and may the gods of my people watch over you.”
She stepped into the archway.
The silver light vanished, and Rachaelis stood in another domed chamber. Three blocks of stone stood in the center of the room, rough-cut and unfinished. Besides the blocks stood Talvin, the First Magister himself. His blue eyes focused upon her.
“The seventh trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Talvin. “You have demonstrated how to defend your mind from magical attack. However, your thoughts can be used as a weapon in a cruder, if a no less effective, sense. You will now defend yourself from this weapon, or you shall die.”
He gestured, and one of the blocks floated into the air. It hovered for a moment, and then Talvin gestured. The massive stone hurtled towards Rachaelis, heavy enough to smash her to a bloody paste against the wall.
But she had realized what was happening the moment Talvin began speaking, and her own spell was ready. Her thoughts focused, as if a her will had became a third hand, and she bent her mind upon the block. It was too heavy to stop by main force. So her will slapped it instead, altering its course enough that it smashed into the wall with a tremendous crash. Rachaelis felt the vibration in her teeth, and dust fell from the ceiling, but the block missed her.
Again Talvin flung a block at her, and again, and both times Rachaelis deflected the stones with her will, smashing them into the walls.
When the last echoes died away, Talvin spoke. “You have passed the seventh trial, Initiate. Proceed to the next.”
The usual archway appeared next to Talvin, and she walked into it.
The astraljump released her, and Rachaelis shrieked in sudden surprise.
She stood on a narrow pinnacle of wet stone, barely two feet across. The pinnacle jutted out of a vast chasm, its depths disappearing into blackness. Yawning voids opened up all around her, and Rachaelis felt dizzy, and not just from exhaustion. Wind whipped out of the black depths, tugging at her hair and chilling the sweat on her skin. In the wall of the chasm, nearly a hundred yards away, Rachaelis saw the lighted outline of the stone archway.
Her feet started to slide, and for an awful moment Rachaelis thought she would go hurtling into the black abyss. She dug in her toes and strained, and the movement stopped.
“The eight trial of the Testing, Initiate,” said Talvin’s voice, booming from nowhere. “Adepts can use astraljump spells to transport from place to place, a skill that requires great precision and fine control. Astraljump to the archway.”
He didn’t say what would happen if she failed. He didn't have to. She wondered how many shattered bones lay at the bottom of the chasm. It looked like the ledge before the archway was barely a yard across. That could be a problem. Rachaelis had plenty of magical strength, but her fine control had never been quite as fine would have liked…
No. Don’t think about that.
She focused upon the far archway, held its image in her mind. Astraljumps worked by forming a sort of shortcut across the astral world, letting the caster move quickly from one spot to another, and it was imperative that she maintain an accurate mental image of her destination.
Otherwise she might miss.
She concentrated, and held the image in her mind for a full minute. Then she summoned the power and cast the astraljump spell. Silver light enfolded her, followed by a wrenching sense of dislocation. The light cleared, and Rachaelis found herself on the narrow ledge.
Or, at least, almost on the narrow ledge. Her heels jutted out over the edge, and she started to fall. Rachaelis threw her arms forward, and her feet went out from beneath her. She grabbed the archway, landing hard on one knee, and pulled herself forward as the wind from the deeps howled around her.
She slumped against the archway, panting.
It was a very long way down.
“You have passed the eighth trial, Initiate,” came Talvin’s voice. “You may proceed to the final trial.”
The final trial? Rachaelis wondered what else they could throw at her.
She paused for a moment, waiting for her head to stop spinning. Deep breaths. Her mouth felt so dry. By the Divine, she wanted something to drink.
One trial left in the Testing. In the next few moments she would either become an Adept, or she would die. That made things simple.
Rachaelis heaved herself back to her feet, keeping well away from the edge, and stepped into the archway.
When the silver light faded she found herself in another vast stone hall, similar to the one with the dead dogs. But this hall was empty. There were no dead dogs, no stone pillars, no Magisters in their red robes and black stoles. A faint silver glow came from the dais, pulsing like a heartbeat, but that was the only sign of life.
Rachaelis hesitated, and walked towards the silver glow. As she drew closer, she saw that the glow came from a symbol drawn in lines of silver astralfire across the dais. A man stood in the center of the symbol, gazing at the far wall. As she approached, the symbol winked out, and the man turned to face her.
Rachaelis froze.
“Father?” she whi
spered.
Aramane Morulan stood facing her, his gray hair tangled, his beard matted and filthy. His red robes hung in tatters, and he looked half-starved.
“Who are you?” he said, stepping closer. “Another fool who fell afoul of Arthain Kalarien, I suppose.” He stopped, horror coming over his face. “What…no, this…this cannot be? Rachaelis?”
Rachaelis nodded.
Aramane’s face crumpled. “No. No. Oh, by the Divine, no. Arthain trapped you, too. I was hoping to spare you this.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rachaelis. “What’s happening?”
“Arthain has kept me imprisoned here for the last twelve years,” said Aramane, despair in his eyes. “I wanted the slaves freed, I wanted the Initiates treated less brutally, and he finally had enough of me. During the battle with Paulus, he tricked me and kept me imprisoned here. For all this time. Arthain told me…he told me that he had killed you.”
“No,” said Rachaelis, trying to think past her shock. Something was wrong here. “The Testing…I’m here for the Testing.”
“Then Arthain must have made a mistake!” said Aramane, desperate hope in his eyes. He was only a few feet from her now. “Astraljumps can sometimes go amiss. He must have accidentally astraljumped you here. Rachaelis, listen to me. This chamber is warded. I cannot use an astraljump spell to escape. But if you lend me your power, let me into your mind, I can astraljump both of us away. Arthain will pay for his crimes, and…we can be together again.”
Rachaelis blinked. This couldn’t be happening. And yet she wanted it to be true, wanted it more than anything.
But something was wrong.
“My daughter,” said Aramane, his voice choked with emotion. “You were a little girl the last time I saw you. And now look at the woman you’ve become. Strong enough to survive the Testing. I’m so proud of you.”
“Father.” Rachaelis closed her eyes, opened them again. “But…this cannot be. I saw you tonight. I see you every day. You’ve been in your bed for the last twelve years, caught between life and death. How…how can you be here?”
“You saw a decoy,” said Aramane. “A thing created by illusion and trickery. Arthain fashioned it, to trick you. He didn’t want you to come looking for me.”
The Third Soul Omnibus One Page 6