by C. A. McHugh
But unlike his best friend, Aerrin actually cared about mastering magic. He would be a better king because of it. And knowing that the Raven Bringer still lived, he needed to master every spell he could so that if he ever came face to face with this dark enemy, he wouldn’t meet the same fate as his parents and uncle.
He would be better off mastering spells to vanquish demons and destroy the undead rather than turning his body into a ball of mist, but so far, Master Binnius hadn’t been able to restructure his classes to provide such instruction without raising too much suspicion.
The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the library’s stained glass windows as Aerrin stared at the tome before him and ran his fingers through his hair. Reading about the spell wasn’t helping. He couldn’t focus on the words. His thoughts kept drifting back to the new girl. How was she able to perform the spell on her first try? Even Nyssa had to try it four times before she mastered it. Seroney had to be more powerful than Master Binnius thought. At least, she seemed more powerful than most of the fifth-year students at the Academy.
Aerrin slammed the book shut and stomped out of the room, ignoring any glares he might have received for ruining the pristine silence of the library. He needed to find Nyssa and beg for help if he wanted to master this spell.
No choice. He had to risk another unauthorized visit to her room. He found her there with multiple open books spread across her desk, trying to read them all at once. She chewed on the end of her hair as she frantically copied passages from the text, splattering ink across her page every time she dipped her quill in the inkwell.
He knocked on her open door. “Nyssa?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and knocked over the inkwell. The viscous black liquid slithered across the pages of her books like a snake. With a few magic words, however, the ink swept off the pages and back into the inkwell. A lingering dampness remained where the ink had spread as the only sign of the accident.
She turned to him, mirroring the same perturbed expression he’d gotten from those in the library. “What do you want? Make it quick, though. I have to finish reading about the metaphysical aspects of this spell.”
“Um, never mind then.”
Her features softened. “I’m sorry, Aerrin, but I’m starting to freak out a little over the challenges, especially since she’s challenging me for the highest marks in the class.” She nodded to the opposite side of the room to Seroney’s things.
“You always freak out before challenges. Don’t worry—you’ll pass with high marks like you always do.”
“Maybe.” When she returned her attention to her books, he took that as a dismissal and returned to the common room.
Only to find Seroney sitting calmly on one of the cozy chairs and talking to her cat in a language he didn’t recognize. She must’ve sensed his presence because she grew silent as he came closer. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as her cat’s unwavering gaze seemed to scrutinize his every move.
“Hello, Aerrin,” she said, even though her back was turned to him.
“Um, hey, Seroney.” He walked around the chair and faced her. It would be rude to slip out after she’d acknowledged him. He gestured to the empty room, which normally would’ve been filled with students. “Why aren’t you cramming for the challenges like everyone else?”
She shrugged. “I’ve studied enough, I suppose.”
Her cat adjusted itself in her lap so it could continue its examination of him while Seroney continued scratching its head.
“Aren’t you worried about failing?” He almost cringed when he heard the shakiness in his voice.
She took her time answering, her gaze as intensely fixed on him as her pet’s. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged again. “I feel confident enough in my abilities. Don’t you?”
Something in him snapped. He wasn’t quite sure he could trust her, but she’d mastered the spell, and unlike Nyssa, she appeared to have enough spare time to maybe help him.
“To be honest, no,” he confessed. “I know I need to master the mist form spell for this stupid challenge. I just can’t. I’ve tried more times than I care to count, and I know what’s wrong. I can never draw enough magic to finish it. I don’t know where to look for it, though. It should be in here, in me, but it’s like trying to find a diamond mine in the Craigars. And if I can’t master this spell, how am I going to master more difficult spells like—”
He caught himself before he revealed the spells he really wanted to learn. Letting something slip about demons could raise questions he didn’t want to answer. After all, Seroney was still a bit of mystery, and these days he didn’t trust mysteries.
“Spells like what?” she prodded
He cleared his throat. “Like spells that might be important for the kingdom.”
Seroney pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. His pulse hammered at the scrutiny, worried he might have revealed too much.
At last, she said, “Mist form is not such a hard spell to do. You’re right, though. The most difficult thing about casting it is drawing up the magic from within you while your body slowly turns into mist. It can be rather… unnerving. But once you become comfortable drawing upon it, the spell becomes as simple and basic as any other spell you’ve been taught.”
“Easy enough for you to say. You got it on the first try.”
“Well, certain things come easier to some than others.” She gave him what appeared to be a nonchalant shrug, but something glimmered in her eyes that set his nerves on end until it vanished with her smile. “I’m sure there are spells that come easier to you.”
Aerrin collapsed back in a nearby chair and buried his head in his hands. His head pounded in frustration. He’d hoped for some tips, but much like Master Binnius, she preferred to talk in riddles. Maybe she wanted him to fail. If he did, he’d be forced to leave the Academy. He might be the king, but here, he was just another student. No special exceptions were going to be made for him, and he’d have a much harder time learning how to fight the Raven Bringer if he wasn’t near Master Binnius. Asking any other master mage for instruction in that realm would risk revealing the Raven Bringer’s return. He was stuck, and all because of a stupid spell he’d probably never have to use again after the challenges.
His skin began to tingle, but not in a disturbing way. A refreshing sense of calm washed over him. His muscles instantly relaxed as the feeling flowed past his throbbing head, his tense jaw, and then his aching neck and hunched shoulders. By the time it got to the tips of his toes, he felt as though he’d just emerged from a cool spring on a hot summer day.
He glanced up and found Seroney standing in front of him. The last remnants of her spell hung like tendrils of blue smoke from where her hands hovered over his head. This relief came from her, and rather than asking himself questions about why she was doing it, he allowed himself to simply enjoy the moment.
He smiled up at her. “Thank you, Seroney. That was… wonderful.”
She retreated a few steps, and he caught a glimpse of uncertainty that he’d never expect from her, tempered by the slightest hint of fear. Maybe he’d been too quick to pass judgement on her. He’d revealed his vulnerability to her, and instead of taking advantage of it like so many others would, she’d chosen to comfort him.
“You’re welcome, Aerrin.”
“What kind of spell was that?”
“A calming spell used by the priestesses of Mariliel. My grandmother taught it to me.”
Aerrin rubbed the back of his neck. The effects of the spell still lingered, even though she was no longer casting it. “It’s definitely a good spell to know. Maybe one day you can teach it to me.”
“Maybe. But at the moment, I know you’re much more concerned about the mist form spell. If you’d like, I might be able to help you master it.”
“Do you think you could?”
Seroney nodded, her usual confidence returning. “Meet me in the f
encing pit after dinner.”
***
When he arrived later that evening, he was surprised to see a practice area set up in the fencing pit. Walls and doors formed a sort of maze he could weave himself around—if he could ever fully assume an insubstantial gaseous state.
Seroney emerged from behind one of the obstacles she had set up, one corner of her mouth rising up in half-smile. “Are you ready to begin?”
“I’m ready anytime you are.” He tried to match her confidence. Something in her expression told him she had something up her sleeve. Now he wished he’d dragged Leandros with him, if only to have a witness should something go awry.
“Very well. Let’s start over here.” She led him to a door with a large keyhole. “You need to go through there to the other side.”
Aerrin began the incantation for the spell, his magic rising within him. His hands turned into a misty fog that he could see through. His heart began to pound, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had to keep concentrating. He had to continue to focus on the spell and draw upon the magic within him if he wanted to succeed. Then he realized that he couldn’t feel the floor beneath his feet as they turned into the same fog. His breath became trapped within him, even as his whole body was fading into nothingness. His mind whirled with the fear of vanishing completely, and the magic dried up.
He crashed to the ground, but he didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he welcomed it. His solid hands grasped for the rest of his body, and the nausea in the pit of his stomach eased. He was whole again.
Expression stern, Seroney stood before him with her arms crossed. “You panicked.”
“What do you mean, I panicked?” Until recently, when things were spiraling out of control, he had always been the calm, collected one. The boy-king. Yet, somewhere deep inside, he suspected that she might be right. He was doing so well with the spell. That is, until the moment he lost contact with the solid, physical world. “Very well, if you’re so smart, you tell me why.”
She circled him with her hand on her chin. “Changing into another form? Flying? Being able to see through your hands and feet? Not being in complete control? It could be any of these reasons. But I don’t think it’s due to lack of power. Your magical gift is very strong. I could sense it before, and I could see it when you performed the spell. It’s your fear that’s holding you back.”
Her words hit him hard. He didn’t know what worried him more—that he actually feared something irrational or that she could see it. Yet she hadn’t taken advantage of him, and for that reason, he decided to give her an inch of trust. “So what do you suggest I do?”
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. Then, within in a few blinks, she nodded with the self-assurance he’d come to associate with her. “Come.”
She led him away from the door into the center of the room. “We have two ways we can approach this. We can continue trying to the do the mist form spell over and over again until we figure out what’s causing you to panic. Or, we can present a series of possible things you might fear and have you face them one by one until we know what fear you need to overcome. Which do you prefer?”
“The latter one sounds like it will be quicker.”
“Very well. Carcanis!”
A bolt of blue magic shot out of her hand and hit him squarely in his chest. Fur sprouted out from his arms and legs. His stomach clenched until he was sure he was going to vomit, only he doubted he could under the influence of her spell. He pitched forward until he was hunched over on all fours, yet his hands and feet never completely turned into paws. The scents in the room became more powerful, from the sweat-soaked leather of the practice doublets to Seroney’s floral perfume. He opened his mouth to ask what she’d done to him, but a bark came out instead.
His second attempt to speak was fueled by anger, and he surprised himself when words came out this time. “How dare you turn me into a dog!”
She crouched down. “I did no such thing. Shapeshifting is illegal, after all. You’re still more human than puppy.”
He nipped at her hand and drew some satisfaction from her yelp of pain.
“Change me back.” He rather liked the sound of his voice at the moment. It was almost feral.
“Can’t you change yourself back?”
“No,” he snarled.
“Why not?”
“They haven’t taught us how to reverse illegal spells yet.”
Seroney muttered something under her breath and sent another bolt of magic toward him.
A few seconds later, Aerrin was back in blessed human form. Once the momentary relief passed, his anger returned. “I should have you arrested for that.”
“Why?” she asked evenly.
Her tone only stoked his ire. “You didn’t give me any warning. You didn’t tell me what you were going to do. You just turned me into a dog. Just bam! I was furry and barking.”
“Calm down. If I told you what I was going to do, then I wouldn’t have been able to see whether or not you feared becoming something you were not.
“I—” He stopped to think about what she’d just said. And irritatingly enough, she had a point. As angry as he was about being turned into a dog, he’d learned that assuming another shape did not scare him. It definitely shocked him, and he was still upset that she cast that spell on him without his permission. But he wasn’t scared. In fact, he was craving a big juicy joint of meat at the moment.
“Besides,” she added with healthy dose of arrogance, “you never fully turned into a dog. You still had hands and fingers, right? You just thought you were a dog.”
“Well, from now on, no more turning me into anything unless you ask me first.”
“As you wish. So, shall we try another fear?”
Warning bells went off in his mind. She’d already proven that she could cast magic well beyond what they’d been taught as fifth-year students. What other spells might she unleash on him if he allowed?
“No, I’m done for the night.” At least with her. But he was fairly certain Master Binnius would have something to say when he told him about what happened. His gut told him the headmaster needed to know what she was capable of. He already had enough enemies outside these walls. Students who could cast illegal spells only added to his problems.
He backed away, never letting her leave his sight.
“Very well,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. There was something in her expression that bordered on pity, as though she knew he’d fail without her.
But he wouldn’t. He’d show her. And he’d start by informing Master Binnius of what she’d done to him.
Chapter 8
Raimel shivered as the sun sank lower in the sky, painting the clouds orange and red, and stomped his feet. This far north the early fall air already had the biting chill that hinted of winter, and it would only get colder as night set in. The meat pasties he’d swiped this morning had long left his stomach, and the empty rumbling grew more insistent for food, adding to his misery.
He turned to Ceryst, who somehow managed to remain statue still as he scanned the horizon from their vantage point on top of the hill. “Can I talk you into staying at an inn with a warm fire tonight?”
“No,” the knight replied in a tone that told Raimel to shut up.
A wise man would’ve taken a hint and done so, but Raimel was immune to Ceryst’s threats and growls. “Then how about a camp fire? And maybe something to eat besides waybread?”
He’d eaten so much of the tough, stale, tasteless stuff over the weeks on the hunt that if he had to swallow one more bite of it, he might lose his mind.
“And give away our position?” Ceryst glared at him. “Now keep an eye out for these demons.”
That’s all he had been doing since they arrived in the northern reaches of Edensdowne. They’d roamed from one end of the countryside to the other, picking up a cold trail here and there, but never finding hard evidence of the Raven Bringer.
Such as actual demons, as opposed to merely rumors o
r signs of them after they were long gone.
A gust of wind blew through Raimel’s threadbare cloak, and he shivered again. “You know, instead of giving us those two flea-bitten nags,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the horses that grazed on the brown grass, “you’d think Aerrin would’ve been wiser to give us warm clothes and a couple of bags of coins for food.”
Ceryst didn’t even bother to look at him this time. “The horses allow us to travel faster.”
“Speak for yourself. I can get us from point A to point B pretty quickly. And I’m talking about teleporting, not the other way.” Raimel preferred to avoid slipping into the Shadow Realm if at all possible, even though time in the mortal world stood still there, allowing him to cover great distances in the blink of an eye.
“I like to ride.”
Of course he did. Ceryst was a knight, after all. Practically grew up in a saddle as he trained for tournaments and rode beside King Brendon all those years. It didn’t matter to Ceryst that Raimel’s mere presence spooked the horses because they knew what he was. Every time Raimel tried to ride a horse, he got bucked until he cast a calming spell on it.
He wandered over to the horses, ignoring the way they backed away from him and nervously shuffled their hooves as he approached. “I think you’ll be more useful to me in my belly. Horsemeat isn’t the best dish in the kingdom, but you’re fat enough to feed me for a week.”
“Leave the horses alone and get over here.”
The gruffness in Ceryst’s voice hinted at his irritation, and Raimel sensed he was already approaching the limits of the knight’s patience. “Fine. I’m just cold and hungry and really wish we didn’t have to face another night in the elements on an empty stomach.”
“Help me find these demons, and I’ll consent to a night in an inn.”
Which was saying a lot since Ceryst hated being around people. It was too risky. Someone might recognize him. And that would cause all kinds of trouble since most of the population was still under the impression that Ceryst of Klone was really the Raven Bringer and had murdered Aerrin’s parents. The truth was, he’d been ordered to retrieve Aerrin when the Raven Bringer attacked the castle, and by the time he’d brought King Brendon’s infant son back to him, the Raven Bringer had already killed the king and queen. It was sheer luck that Ceryst and Aerrin had survived.