by CM Raymond
The Dean of the Rebellion nodded, turned, and left the room with the people right behind her. Hannah waited.
“You sure you’re up for this,” she said, extending a hand to Roland.
He grabbed it with a firm grip and pulled himself to his feet. “Screw you, Princess. I taught you a thing or two on the streets—before and after I lost my damned leg. This is nothing.”
She handed him the crutches and then glanced down at Sal who looked up at her, swinging his tail slowly back and forth. “You sure you don’t want to ride my dragon?”
Roland laughed. “That’s my line.”
“Yeah, but I hear it seldom works for you. Well, come on then. Time’s a wasting. And we have some magic to learn.”
CHAPTER NINE
Clouds of steam poured from the mouths of their team as Hannah and Amelia took stock of the people who had come to learn magic. They didn’t look like much, but Hannah knew that she hadn’t either only eight months before.
If she could become as powerful as she had in as little time as she did, they might just be able to make up some ground quickly.
As far as teaching went, Hannah followed Amelia’s lead. The Dean had suggested that they focus on the basics. If they could master just a small corner of the possibilities, they could be of some use in the battle—even if it was primarily from the fringes.
“Half of you have been taught from your earliest days that you were special,” Hannah shouted into the cold morning air, “the other half were taught that you were steaming piles of ox dung unworthy of and even unable to cast magic. But that didn’t stop most of you from trying. You were once branded as Unlawfuls, and I’m here to help you overthrow that law—and the people who’ve enforced it.”
The people from the Boulevard—all gathered in their own group—nodded in agreement while the nobles, still uncertain of their decision to flee Arcadia, looked at each other with hesitant glances.
“Magic resides in all of us. It’s in our blood.” She looked at her neighbors. “I found this out, well, the strange way. Magic burst out of me when I least expected it, and I almost lost my life as an Unlawful for it. If it weren’t for Ezekiel, I wouldn’t be standing here today. But that power that runs through me also runs through you. You just need to learn how to tame it.” She turned her eyes to the nobles. “And you… you’re not special. Well, not any more special than the rest of us. But what you do have is a head start. You may not have studied to become fighters, but what you’ve learned about magic in the Quarter will help you get there quickly. Now, let’s pair off.”
Hannah went through the common folks counting them off into two groups. Then did the same for the nobles. “Ones, you’re with Amelia. Twos, you’re coming with me.”
“Always knew I was a number two,” Roland said, drawing laughs from the crowd.
Ignoring her friend, Hannah turned and led the people to the opposite end of the lawn. She looked down at Sal. “We have our work cut out for us, buddy.”
The dragon swiped his tongue out and then back in. She gave him a scratch under the chin as she found his favorite spot. Then, she turned to face her crew.
As expected, the group assembled according to their kind. The brash, hard-working people from the slums on her right. The uptight, nobles on her left. Hannah wished that the new group would naturally integrate, but she knew that the division between these people ran deep. At best, the people of the Boulevard were invisible to the nobles. They never made their way to the lower half of town and had no reason to associate. At worst, they looked down their noses at them, assuming it was a life of vice that made them poor and stuck in the slums. But Hannah knew that the commoners were no better. Most of them despised the nobles—blaming them for the systems in place that kept them in the slums, even if they weren’t actively complicit. It would take time to break down the walls, but, unfortunately, time was not on their side. She’d have to do this the old fashioned away.
“Find a partner, someone who grew up in a different quarter of the city from you.”
Her class started shifting their weight from foot to foot and staring at the ground. Their hesitancy bit at her gut, and anger welled up inside of her. Without warning, Hannah swung her arms in front of her chest, pivoted, and shot a massive fireball at a row of bushes off to her right. Brown and leafless from the effects of a long, cold winter, the bush burst into fire, and heat washed over all of them.
The crowd spun to face her. “Listen!” she yelled. “We aren’t preparing for some noble ball or a day panhandling in the market. There is a madman in our city. He’s going to keep everything you’ve ever loved, and, odds are, he’ll be here within days—not months—to slaughter us. If you don’t stop being a bunch of whiny, divided douche nuggets, we won’t stand a chance.”
Nine out of ten of them looked at her with shock and dismay. Roland beamed with delight. “Now, there’s the leader we’ve been needing. I’d kick some ass for you right now if it didn’t mean I’d end up on the ground.” He motioned to his missing leg. Then he pointed at a noblewoman in her twenties whom Hannah recognized from the Academy. “I’ll take that one.” He hobbled toward her. “For practice, that is… Unless she’s interested. I’ve always wanted a noblewoman for a dance partner.”
The other noblewomen looked on with disgust in her eyes, but the young woman glanced up at him. “Let’s start with magic, and then let’s see what you’re made of.”
Standing in front of her, he tipped the brim of an imaginary hat. “Challenge accepted, my lady.”
The others followed Roland’s lead and matched up with someone outside of their social class.
“Good,” Hannah said with her hands on her hips. “From now on, there is neither rich nor poor, we are all Arcadians, and we’re all fighting for our homes… and our lives.”
Her theatrics, with the help of Roland, seemed to motivate the assembly. Hannah took some time to reiterate and then refute the lies of the Capitol and explain the source of magic. A woman raised her hand and asked if it were true that people could blow themselves up. She had shown some magical talent when she was younger, but never tried to develop it for fear of hurting herself.
Hannah shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve heard that story, too; problem is, I’ve never seen it happen. Have you?”
The woman shook her head.
“When my brother died, laying in my arms, the men who had done it crossed my threshold. Nothing the Founder had taught me until that moment could have allowed me to stay in control. I blew up that day, in a way. My magic lashed out and obliterated every one of those ass worms, tore them to pieces of scrap—I’m still here, standing right before you. I’ll teach you as we go, which will help. But I make no promises. Will you hurt yourself?” She scanned the group. “Maybe. But I guarantee that if we don’t increase our power and number of warriors, Adrien and his people will do the job for us. I, for one, would take the chance. But if you don’t want to, you can leave now. There are dirty dishes in the kitchen and beds to be made.”
No one moved.
“Good. That’s what I thought. Now, how many of you know even the slightest bit of magic?”
All the noble folk raised their hands. After looking around at the group, Roland raised his.
“Really?” Hannah asked her friend.
“What the hell else is a cripple to do but learn some tricks? I don’t know much, but I could light a bowl of the finest herb from the Heights with my pinkie—if I could afford it.”
Hannah grinned. “Good. Well, that one,” Hannah pointed at the noblewoman he had partnered with, “will be able to add more flame to your fire.” She winked to Roland, and the girl flushed a faint pink. A few of the others from the Boulevard confessed to knowing a few things. That was a good start.
After explaining the way she had learned magic from Ezekiel months before, she set them off to practice clearing their minds and drawing forth their power to create fire. The nobles were to teach their partners everything they knew, and
the one teaching would advance in their own study.
The pairs stepped off into their own patches of lawn, each working at the art.
Hannah reached down and ran her nails along Sal’s scaly head. “What about you? You been practicing your arts, you lazy lizard?”
Sal pushed against her ribcage with his head, nearly knocking her over with the strength of his muscular body that had grown to the size of a small horse.
“Good.” She laughed. “You can shove around a little woman… but we’re going to need more than that. Get to it, you oaf.”
She watched as Sal ran down the short decline toward the woods and the River Wren. He flapped his wings, and just before hitting the treeline, his body launched into the air. The movements of her creature were jerky and inconsistent, but Sal managed to turn several circles overhead, before turning and flying for the tower. Flapping more gently, he floated down onto the edge of the jagged roof.
Hannah laughed and waved her hand, showing him that she was, in fact, impressed.
Raising his chin in the air, Sal opened his mouth and let out a roar like she’d never heard before—or rather it was more like a croak. Nothing that would strike fear into the toughest Capitol Guard, but it was a start.
Turning her attention back to her group, she watched as they all worked intently. The nobles were showing their partners what they could manage, and then they gave their students the chance to give it a shot. She watched Roland flick his wrists and make flames dance in his palm as he leaned on his crutches. She was impressed. Her old friend had more to him than she had ever expected.
“And that… is what an Unlawful can do!” he boasted to his partner as the flames continued to dance.
“Not bad,” the girl said with a sly smile. She spun her own hand, and directed it, palm out, toward Roland’s dancing fire. Her eyes flashed black as she pushed toward his flame. It burst forth like a raging arrow, shooting in a straight line. “How’s that?”
“Damn,” Roland cried. “Glad you decided to join the good guys.”
The noblewoman shrugged. “I’ve never done it outside of a practice session. I don’t know if I could really hurt someone with it.”
Roland looked down at his leg, then back at the girl. “You’d be surprised at what you can do when you have to. Now, show me how to do that!”
Hannah walked through the group, watching the practice. A few times, she stopped to give instruction, until the sound of a tiny explosion caused her to spin on her heels to find a noblewoman, old enough to be her mother, with her cloak in flames.
Hannah ran, twisting her hands in front of her. Eyes blazing red, she spread a thin layer of ice on the woman, which extinguished the flames and set her lips blue.
Getting closer, Hannah’s saw that the woman’s shirt was singed, but there was little other damage. The woman breathed erratically, gripped by the fear of possible incineration.
She stammered, “I… I…” She looked down on her noble garb. It had been dirty from her time in the tower, but otherwise still beautiful. Now, it was tattered with holes singed with fire of her own making.
The woman she worked with from the Boulevard looked like a kind grandmother. Before Hannah could offer any words of comfort, the older woman grabbed the noble’s arm. “Don’t worry dear; I’m damn good with a needle and thread. You teach me to fry bad guys, and I’ll teach you to mend your own clothes.”
The woman’s eyes went glassy, and she nodded.
Hannah stepped back, realizing that they were going to do just fine learning for the day on their own. She looked up at the sun, realizing she had somewhere else to be.
“Nice work, all of you. Keep working until lunchtime. Roland is in charge,” her eyes cut to him, “unless he becomes an intolerable shitbag, then you take over.” She motioned to his partner.
“It’s Claire.” The girl stood up a little taller.
“Of course. I remember you from the Academy,” Hannah offered a smile. “Watch out for that one. He’s more trouble than some of those rich schoolboys drunk on the mystics’ brew.”
She looked over at Roland. “Not a problem. I have a feeling he’s mostly talk… Schoolboys are schoolboys, no matter where they’re from.”
Hannah laughed as she turned back toward the tower. She was showing her troops how to fight, but that wouldn’t mean anything if she couldn’t feed them. It was time to find Maddie.
****
Gregory knew from his father’s pictures and history books that the old world was once covered in cities. Now, the old cities were all gone, and only a few new ones had risen to take their place since the Age of Madness came to an end.
Arcadia and Cella were the largest cities within the Arcadian Valley, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people elsewhere. Smaller communities of farmers and those brave enough to risk the rural lifestyle popped up throughout the valley, but most felt safer living in groups, which is how the town of Villgen was formed. As he and Ezekiel crested a large hill, Gregory saw the village for the first time.
“I think we may rest easy tonight,” Ezekiel said with a smile. “Which is good for us. We’ll need all the energy we can muster for our trip tomorrow.”
“You’re still not telling me where we’re going?” Gregory asked.
Ezekiel laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? You need to learn to embrace the mystery. Sometimes not knowing is better than knowing.”
Gregory rolled his eyes like he had seen Hannah do a million times. “I thought you said you didn’t deal in shit.”
Ezekiel laughed even louder, but he still didn’t give an answer. Instead, he marched onward toward Villgen.
Although he had never traveled this far west, Gregory had heard about the town. Made up of over two hundred people, many in Arcadia believed that it could develop into the kind of city that would eventually rival Arcadia as the major center of their known world. Rumor had it that the Chancellor was so worried about this, he cut off trade with them. But although they had remained small, it looked to Gregory like the tiny community was doing fine on their own. And by the look of contentment on the face of the guard at their open gate, Gregory assumed they wouldn’t be aiming for world domination anytime soon.
“Good evening,” the guard said as the two travelers approached.
He looked them up and down. Gregory could feel the man’s eyes take in Ezekiel’s staff and the simple dagger that hung on his own belt.
Ezekiel smiled broadly and held out his left hand with an open palm as a symbol of their peaceable passage. “Hello. I am Ezekiel of Arcadia, and this here is Gregory. We are on a journey and are hoping to stay the night. Does Matthias still call Villgen home?”
The man’s face tensed when Ezekiel mentioned Arcadia and then relaxed at the name that danced off the magician’s lips.
“Indeed, he does.” The man nodded. “I’m sorry, but I must ask; you are the one they call the Founder, are you not?”
Ezekiel’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the shaft of his staff. He tried to step inside the man’s mind, but it was blocked. Defenses of the mystical arts had spread throughout Irth, apparently, which was probably for the best—though, inconvenient at their current time.
“I have been called that.” Ezekiel laughed. “But I prefer the name given by my parents. It is, well, more accurate. Now, if it isn’t any trouble, can you point me to where I can find Matthias?”
Gregory held his breath, wondering if they were stepping into trouble, but the man complied, giving them directions to Ezekiel’s friend's house.
Stepping aside, he said, “You are welcome here as friends. But I must say, old man, don’t bring your Arcadia problems into our city. We’ve heard about the trouble you all have been having back east. We are a simple people, and we enjoy our peace and quiet.”
Ezekiel patted the man on the arm as they passed. He paused. “A day is coming when peace will rule everywhere, not just here in the shadow of the forest.”
“It is our p
rayer. If the Matriarch and Patriarch so will…”
“Good man,” Ezekiel said as he led Gregory into the town.
All eyes were on the travelers as they wove through the packed dirt streets, which was lined with modest homes and small shops. Many of the citizens smiled and waved. A few stepped back through their open doors, pulling their children along with them.
“You said something to that guard about the shadow of the forest. What’s that all about?” Gregory whispered, not wanting the Villgenians to hear what could be a stupid question.
“The Dark Forest,” Ezekiel replied. “Villgen is the closest human settlement.”
Gregory swallowed hard. Ezekiel had kept their destination a mystery. Gregory was starting to suspect where they were going—and he didn’t like the answer. His heartbeat increased, and he could feel the sweat bead up on the nape of his neck.
“The Dark Forest? We’re not going there, right?”
“Is there another Dark Forest that you know about?” Ezekiel asked with a grin. “So, you’ve figured out our itinerary. Isn’t embracing the mystery fun?”
“I wouldn’t describe waltzing into the Dark Forest as fun. Foolhardy. Frightening. Fraught. Those would all be more accurate descriptions than fun.”
Ezekiel stopped and grabbed Gregory by the arm. Pulling him in, Ezekiel whispered, “Remember the rebellion? Remember not more than three hours ago you said you would give all for it? If so, there are no longer any choices, Gregory. You have made the only one that matters. We will speak more of the Forest later. Now, you only need to know that Villgen is what it is because of the Dark Forest. Even the remnant know enough not to venture there.”
Gregory let out a nervous chuckle. “You would think we would be at least as smart as the remnant.”
Ezekiel shook his head. “They know not to venture there because they don’t know how to venture there. Luckily for you, I make a wonderful guide. We should be safe—relatively speaking.”