by Ben Hale
“To your beds, acolytes!” Othan shouted. “Your second trial begins tomorrow.”
Alydian fought to get to her feet and stumbled toward the door, distantly aware that Toala and the gnome were in front of her. When she reached the hall she spotted Devkin nearby, and the man deftly extricated her from the acolytes. Guiding her down a side corridor and into an alcove, he removed the necklace and threw a dress over her shoulders. Then he led Alydian up a staircase to the courtyard.
Alydian kept her feet beneath her but only barely. Never had she felt such fatigue, and darkness rimmed her vision. Devkin seemed to understand and guided her to the ascender that would take her to her room.
“Don’t quit yet,” he murmured. “Collapse now and questions will be asked that I cannot answer.”
Alydian tried to respond but it came out in a mumble. Then the doors opened and he led her past Yaria and Bathik to her quarters.
“Are you well?” Yaria asked, stepping to her.
“Just tired,” Alydian said, forcing a smile.
The moment the door was shut Alydian crumpled on the couch with a groan. Devkin pressed the rune in the hallway that led to the bathing chamber. Water heated by dwarven fire bubbled into the tub.
“I don’t want a bath,” she said. “I just want to sleep.”
“The hot water will ease the tension in your muscles,” he said. “And if you don’t, it will hurt more tomorrow.”
She grimaced as he pulled her to her feet. Every fiber of her flesh ached, but she ambled down the hall. Devkin grinned sympathetically.
“Want to quit?”
“No,” she said, jutting her chin out as she passed.
“Liar.” He laughed and took his customary position near the door. She made her way into the bathing chamber and shut the door before removing her clothes and sinking into the steamy water.
She clenched her jaw at the sting but leaned back and tried to relax, reminding herself that the other acolytes were not getting a bath or sleeping in a soft bed. Resolving to use what advantages she had, she forced her muscles to relax until her fingers began to wrinkle. Then she left the water with a sigh.
Dressing and yawning, she used the adjoining door and slipped into her sleeping room to find a tray of food already laid on the desk. Mentally thanking Devkin, she proceeded to satisfy her ravenous hunger before climbing under the soft blankets. The next thing she knew someone was nudging her on the shoulder.
“Dawn approaches, Oracle.”
She blinked her eyes against the light and Yaria’s elven features resolved into focus. “Where’s Devkin?” she mumbled.
“Patrons were requesting your time,” she replied. “He went to schedule them with your mother. He said you requested to rise early for more study. Do you wish to sleep late?”
Alydian opened her mouth to respond yes, but the word lodged in her throat. The captain and lieutenants of her guard were more than just soldiers, and filled the role of attendants for the oracles. Devkin’s absence could have been avoided, but he’d sent Yaria in his stead, likely to test her resolve.
“I would like to begin my studies early,” she replied.
She made to rise but gasped as her body protested. Fortunately, Yaria was turning away and did not notice the expression. As the Runeguard slipped from the room Alydian cast a healing charm and magic surged into her limbs, easing the pain. Sighing in relief, she stood and ate the meal prepared for her.
She’d never had a large appetite, but she ate everything on the tray and drained the glass of mint water. Savoring the last of the liquid, she dressed in her uniform and then donned a nice red dress that complemented her hair and blue eyes. Then she stepped into the receiving room, spotting Devkin leaning on the wall by the door.
“Good morning,” he said brightly.
“Nice try,” she said acidly.
Caught, he grinned. “I thought you’d like to sleep late.”
“I wanted to,” she replied. “But we both know it would lead to my dismissal.”
His grin widened and he motioned her to the door. Again he took the lead and guided her to her private study in the Dawnskeep library. As before, Alydian traded her dress for armor and exited as Alethean, arriving in the courtyard to find Holan waiting for her.
“You had enough energy to study after the first trial?” he asked, motioning to the library.
Caught by surprise, Alydian managed a nod. “I wanted to see if there was any way to make entities easier to cast.”
He grinned wryly and pointed to the city. “You departed rather quickly last night, but I suppose if I had a comfortable bed waiting for me I would have as well.”
“My family arranged for me to sleep in the city each night,” Alydian said, stepping around him.
Undeterred, he walked with her. “Perhaps tonight I could accompany you to your home? I would like to meet your family.”
Alydian cast him a wary look, and saw the glint of desire in his eyes. Abruptly she realized he now favored her, probably because she’d endured the first trial. But the possessiveness to his smile caused her to drift away.
“I’ll make my own way home.”
His skin darkened with a flush. “Perhaps another day, then.”
He turned and strode away, and Alydian took a different set of stairs to the training hall. Upon entering, she joined the acolytes at the southern training circles. Holan appeared on the opposite side of the hall and joined the Verinai acolytes without sparing her a glance. After the previous day Alydian knew she should attempt to make friends among the Verinai, but as she crossed the floor Toala spotted her and raised a hand.
Alydian smiled and shifted direction, striding to her.
“Alethean,” Toala said. “I’m glad you did not falter.”
“Our training is far from over,” Alydian said, joining her and her companions.
“True,” an older elf said. The sword on his back and empty left shoulder marked him as magicless.
“This is Ferin,” Toala said. “And the grumpy gnome is Grogith.”
The gnome made an annoyed sound but didn’t look at Alydian. He stood on the edge of a training circle, his eyes on the Requiems. Shorter than a human, the gnome had large, floppy ears and a triangular head. His eyes were opaque and inscrutable, and his features were lined in a perpetual frown. Gnomes were a reclusive people that lived in the far north, and aside from the occasional merchant group, they did not often journey to the south. Not one gnome was currently in the Runeguard, making his presence a mystery.
“Any other single mages or magicless?” Alydian asked, craning her neck to look around them.
“Just us,” Ferin said.
Alydian looked to him in surprise. The magicless acolytes had endured their training separate from the mages, but she’d expected more to endure. Noticing her astonishment, Ferin rubbed his shoulder, wincing with the motion.
“Captain Devkin is exacting,” Ferin said.
Alydian listened to him describe the brutal test of his skill, realizing that of the non-Verinai acolytes, all but four had been dismissed during the first trial. Alydian vaguely recalled a blur of faces that had gradually disappeared, and it made her sad to realize she didn’t even know their names.
Commander Othan entered the chamber with a quartet of other trainers behind him, including Devkin. The acolytes rushed to form a line, coming to a halt as Commander Othan reached them.
“Knowledge and discipline,” he called. “These words will be your mantra, your creed. We will teach you combat skills, and you will master the discipline to carry them out. Pain is a constant in battle, and so it will be in your training.”
He guided them toward the Requiems and raised a hand to the stunning trees, pointing to the spheres dotting the branches. “Most of your second trial will take place in Requiems, where you will learn more about combat magics and how to fight as a unit. You may have survived the first trial, but each week forward we will dismiss the lowest two in the group. You want to re
tain your position? You’ll have to fight for it.”
Alydian exchanged a look with Toala and they both suppressed a smile. The warning was not idle, but after surviving the first trial it was hard to deny the elation. There was a noticeable shift in the attitude of the trainers, from testing the acolytes to teaching.
They were directed to stand beneath the spheres. Alydian took her place and looked up at the swirling ball of power, awed by the magic being displayed. Mages could only see the energy of their respective talents, so she was the only one in the room to truly bear witness to the vibrant display.
An oak branch reached out and wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground toward the sudden hole in the sphere. She passed through the exterior and entered the hollow interior of the Requiem.
The sphere’s surface flowed like liquid diamonds, glittering as the branch brought her to a halt in the center. The wall of the Requiem rippled and images appeared. Trees and mountains, cities and people, all displayed in such vivid detail that Alydian laughed in delight. Then tendrils of light seeped away from the Requiem and curled toward her, caressing her hands and feet and wrapping around her chest.
She gasped when the light hardened on her boots, making her feel like she stood on solid ground. She took a step and the tendrils moved with her, the branch holding her bending to accommodate her movement. But she remained in the center of the sphere.
She leapt to the side and the magic moved with her, keeping her in place but making her feel like she had moved several feet. She spun in place and the branch spun with her, its touch feathery soft.
She sensed the current of earth in the Requiem sphere and drew upon it, summoning it through the tendrils into her hands. She cast a ball of earth energy and saw it appear—but it was merely a mirage charm. The actual power was siphoned away even though it felt like flames remained.
“The Requiem is a tool,” Commander Othan said, his voice so close that she turned, thinking he was beside her.
She felt a moment of panic as she realized she’d used a magic outside of Alethean’s talents, but a glance revealed the sphere did not contain monitoring magic. As her heart rate returned to normal she realized Othan was speaking through an echo charm.
“The Requiem will replicate any magic you can perform,” Commander Othan said, “but saps the dangerous edge to it. You will see and feel your power, but no fire will actually burn, no blade will actually cut. As powerful as this is, the true might of a Requiem is how it links to a memory orb.”
His tone lightened at the end, revealing his smile. Then the Requiem shimmered again, the liquid surface rippling with the image of a forest—and the image continued to expand and brighten, filling the whole of Alydian’s vision. She tried to widen her eyes but the effort was futile, and the image overpowered her senses.
And became real . . .
Chapter 13: The Trial of Unity
Alydian’s breath caught as she found herself in a bright forest of aspen. Light filtered through the trees, cascading upon the ground, lighting the undergrowth. Birdsong echoed from the canopy, while a rodent rustled in the leaves nearby.
Alydian bent and touched the earth and picked up a stone, astonished to feel the rough texture of the pebble in her fingers. She tossed the rock at a tree and it bounced off, the thock of the ricochet echoing into the forest.
The scene was so real that she reached to her waist. She could vaguely feel the limb holding her aloft but could not see it. Then a summer breeze pressed against her clothing, its touch warm and inviting.
“This is stunning.”
Alydian turned to find Toala standing nearby, and beyond her the rest of the acolytes were spread out, all equally as enthralled with the Requiem’s power. Commander Othan materialized into view and smiled.
“The Requiems can take us into any recorded memory,” he said, “and a single memory orb will permit us all to experience the entire event. This particular forest was a memory from Oracle Sana, Elenyr’s ancestor and the creator of the Requiems. As much as we would all like to experience such tranquility, it is not the type of scene we experience often.”
The scene abruptly changed. Alydian stumbled back when the trees were replaced with burning barricades, a great fortress rising in the distance. The ground was torn and broken and stained by blood. The dead littered the area as smoke darkened across the sky.
“This was the final battle of the Griffin slave war,” Commander Othan said, “where the slavers tried to usurp the king’s authority so they could continue their trade. In time you will have the chance to fight this battle, but for now we’ll give you something easy.”
The scene changed again, turning into a night forest. Instead of aspen, the trees were poplar and cedar, the branches illuminated by a bright moon. Alydian stood on the edge of a clearing looking down on a small camp. A group of dirty men sat around a campfire, their postures frozen as if time had halted. Behind them, a pair of elven girls were bound and gagged.
Commander Othan strode down the slope and entered the camp. “This is a group of slavers from northeastern griffin,” he said. “This memory is from Captain Barrows, who was sent to deal with these on behalf of Oracle Ciana. She located the bandits, and Captain Barrows dealt with them.”
He tapped something on his gauntlet and time resumed. Alydian watched as Captain Barrows and two Runeguard burst into the camp. The men retaliated but were cut apart, helpless against just three Runeguard. Time stopped with Captain Barrows untying the elven girls.
“A flawless assault,” Commander Othan said, and the image returned to before the battle.
Commander Othan then launched into a description of Captain Barrows’ tactics and how he’d used a muffling charm to mask their approach before striking from two flanks, both targeted to avoid the chance of injury for the taken elves. When he finished, he surveyed the group of gathered acolytes while standing beside the dead bandits.
“The endurance trial was just the beginning,” he said. “Within the Requiems you will be able to not just witness combat, but endure it, testing your mettle and ingenuity until you become a soldier without peer.” He picked his way through the frozen battle, his voice rising with passion.
“In the next four months you will fight in every war of the last ten thousand years. You will participate in small-scale engagements and large assaults. All of you will die—many times—but death will merely bruise your pride, not claim your life. It will hurt because the Requiems will make it real. The pain will bring clarity and focus, and a determination that will carry you to victory time and again. Here is where you rise from acolyte . . . to Runeguard.”
Commander Othan surveyed them for several moments, allowing his words to sink in. Then he began to assign them to acolyte commands. Alydian wasn’t surprised when she was placed with Grogith, Ferin, and Toala. She was surprised when Grogith was placed as their lieutenant. The appointment would last throughout their time as an acolyte, with the chance of being confirmed upon their completion of the third trial. Once they were in their commands, Commander Othan swept his hand at the frozen battle.
“Each command will have the opportunity to strike at these bandits,” he said, “so prepare yourselves for combat.”
Lieutenant Holan went first. He mirrored the tactics of Captain Barrows, but failed in the execution. One of the elven girls was slain when a bandit ducked behind her, allowing the girl to take an asunder lance to the gut. After the battle, Commander Othan froze the memory and shook his head in disdain.
“While Lieutenant Holan considers his failure, each of you will separate into your respective patrols. Today you will repeat the assault on the bandits until they lie dead, none of you are slain, and the captives remain unharmed. We will be watching, and may join your memory to provide direction . . . or rebuke.”
He gestured with his hand and his form turned to dust caught in the wind. A moment later everyone else disappeared, leaving only Alydian with her patrol. The memory was also reset to before the
attack, and Othan’s voice spoke in her ear.
“First patrol to finish will receive extra rations and a night off. Last will clean the barracks—without magic.”
Marked by the sudden murmur of voices, the memory began anew. Alydian marveled at how the cool night air brushed across her skin, at the scent of pine and smoke. She could feel the brush of a leaf on her arm and heard a distant snap of a stick.
“Lieutenant,” Ferin murmured with a smile, “what are your orders?”
Grogith turned away from them and strode toward the campfire, ignoring the question. Ferin leapt after him and caught his arm, lowering his voice so the bandits wouldn’t hear.
“What is your plan?”
“Kill the bandits,” the gnome said, yanking his arm free.
Alydian and Toala exchanged a worried look before hurrying after them. They reached the edge of the clearing in time to see Grogith enter the camp. The men jumped in surprise and caught up weapons, the bandit leader darting to the gnome.
Grogith ducked the blow, and in a single motion, drew his anti-magic dagger and stabbed it through the man’s throat. As the man clutched the wound and collapsed, Grogith strode toward the others. But a crossbow bolt appeared from the trees across the camp and sank into his chest.
Grogith snarled as he went down. As Ferin and Toala engaged the other bandits, Alydian leapt to a bandit about to slay Grogith. She instinctively reached for fire but remembered that was not one of Alethean’s talents. Selecting plant magic, she called on the nearby roots, causing them to shoot out and pierce the man’s chest.
Ferin leapt past her but she stood bound by shock, watching the blood seep from the wound she’d caused. The man eyes were wide and open, and she watched them darken, his life draining away. She’d never killed, and the act filled her mouth with bile. The bandit’s features seared into her mind, his eyes, his blond hair, his beard. The image sank into her soul and seemed to extinguish a spark she’d never noticed, leaving her dark and hollow.