The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  The queen paused and then smiled as she continued speaking to her guards as if Lark wasn’t even there. “This is much too delicate a diplomatic situation to allow anything to go wrong at this juncture. After all, there is the possibility of a war if we don’t hold up our end of the bargain.”

  With a flourish, the queen made a motion, and then Lark and her three sisters had no choice but to follow the guards through the doors.

  In the distance, thunder roared and lightning struck.

  ****

  Even though the sun was shining brightly over the Barbarian city of Alaria, it might as well have been freezing cold and pouring rain for the mood the day had taken on.

  Sarco sat upon his steed in the center of the courtyard, shaking his head. He didn’t understand. The men should be jovial. They were on their way home. The quest was almost done. And yet, to a man, there was an oppressive, uncomfortable aura surrounding them. Something was wrong, very wrong. All he wanted in all of Albrath was to get back to the Academy and to Lark.

  He’d first noticed the changes in moods last night when he’d returned to the castle with the ring and shown them all the divine treasure. What should’ve been a celebration had been received with silence. Well, almost silence. There had been Leeky’s comment. ‘What the blue balls beneath the short stinky pecker of a homely red-headed dwarf too broke ta afford a hand job do ya make of that, lads? Looks a might big for Princess Aryanna’s hand, don’t ya think. Ya sure ya did it right?’

  Adan’s face had lost all color, and without a word, the barbarian prince had turned and left the room. Sarco hadn’t seen him again until a few minutes ago when he’d ridden into the bailey and joined the others.

  Leaning, Sarco whispered to Uthiel. “What’s with everyone this morning, especially Adan? He won’t even look at me.”

  Uthiel sighed. “Think about it, Sarco. What’s the next part of the quest? ‘It’s a champion you must defeat for the heart you wish to seek.’ Who do you think the barbarian champion is? I have no doubt he’s feeling sick about the fact he’s going to kill you in a few hours, or at the very least, give it his best shot. Just so you know, Adan Hammerstrike has never known defeat. Ever.”

  Suddenly, the mood of the day made perfect sense.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  If ever a man was more relieved to see the castle, with its spires rising in the distance, that housed the Academy of Magical Arts, Sarco couldn’t imagine such a man. It didn’t matter that gray clouds rolled across the sky or cold, fat drops of rain steadily pelted down or that lightning flashed across an angry sky and thunder shook the ground.

  Soon now, he’d be with Lark.

  It wasn’t even important that this very day he’d be forced to face Adan in the arena, finish a quest, and fulfill a prophecy. All that mattered was getting close enough to Lark to reestablish their bond.

  Sarco sighed. He hadn’t realized when he and Lark had spoken the spell to block their mental bond what the cost would be. Never in his life had he been so utterly alone as these past few days. Having her joined with him in his mind had become essential to his well-being. No less important than the blood coursing through his veins or the air going in and out of his lungs.

  Without her presence in his mind, alone had taken on a whole new meaning. No longer did it just mean being by himself. Instead, his aloneness had morphed into a bottomless well of despair and an endless aching need to the very depths of his soul. He would never again be whole without her.

  As the group of six men rode through the gates of the Academy and into the bailey, Sarco didn’t slow. He simply threw his leg over the side of his saddle, slid to the ground, tossed his reins to a nearby page, and took off in a run.

  Taking the stairs of the tower two at a time, he didn’t pause until directly in front of Lark’s door. His hand was on the knob when, suddenly, from the other side, it was pushed wide open. For a moment, he wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised, him or the female gnome standing before him.

  He glanced past her, anxious to see Lark’s face.

  “She’s not here. Lark, that is. None of them are.” The sadness in Laycee’s voice drew his eyes back to the gnome. “The queen has them under lock and key. Nobody can get in or out of their chamber. I was just tidying up in case Lark gets ta come back and at least get her things before she’s sent away forever.”

  Tears streaked Laycee’s cheeks.

  Sarco knelt to her level and took her gently but firmly by the shoulders. “What has happened?”

  In between hiccups and sniffles, Laycee explained. “She fired me. The queen, that is. But I didn’t leave, like she thought I did. I stayed and listened at the door. It’s horrible what she’s gonna do. Poor Ally’s being forced ta marry a troll and Audrey, an old dwarf. Aryanna has ta marry ya, if Adan doesn’t kill ya first, and Lark’s getting sent away ta some abbey in the middle of VoT no matter who marries whom.”

  Chills flooded Sarco from the inside out, and shivers skittered from head to toe. VoT? Not even the queen could be that cruel, could she?

  Laycee plucked a red hanky from her pocket and blew her nose. “There’s no hope, ya know. She has them all locked up tight in Aryanna’s rooms. There are even guards on the door. My girls will be gone by this time tomorrow, scattered ta the wind. I’ll never see them again.”

  Laycee pushed past Sarco. “If ya’re back, that means Leeky is, too. Get outta my way, wizard. He’ll know what ta do.”

  Sarco easily passed her on his way back down the stairs. He knew where to find Leeky, Uthiel, Cyrrick, Sherman, and even Adan. They’d be right where he’d left them, still in the bailey dealing with their horses.

  He needed to get to them before a babbling Laycee did. With the girls locked away and being guarded, Sarco was going to need all the help he could get from his friends.

  ****

  Lark paced.

  There were no windows in this room, and the stuffiness—combined with the unceasing drone of her sisters as they took turns sniffling, sobbing, and ranting—only added to the dull ache in her head and the throbbing muscles on the back of her neck.

  The wailing in the room reached a fevered pitch, and Lark placed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, trying to block out the misery. She couldn’t take any more.

  If it hadn’t been for the sudden reverberations created by someone or something landing hard against the door and the added sound of a familiar voice outside, none of them would have realized anything was happening.

  “How dare you tell me I’m not permitted. My sisters are in there, and you will grant me access. I am your Prince.”

  The girls rushed to the door as it shook with the force of someone or something hitting against it yet again.

  “Please forgive me, Prince Adan, but we can’t allow even you to enter. The queen gave very specific orders. No one gets in or out until we escort Princess Aryanna down for her wedding this evening.”

  Lark’s heart raced. If Adan was here, and he obviously was, then Sarco must be also. She almost yelled out before remembering the silence spell the queen had ordered to be put on the room. Even if they all joined voices and shouted and screamed, not one squeak would be heard through the door. Glancing toward her sisters, she could tell they were thinking the same thing. So instead, Lark settled for straining to hear Sarco’s voice. It was no use. No one had ever been able to outshout Adan.

  “I don’t care what my mother has dictated. You’ll open this door, and that’s an order.”

  The voice of the guard sounded anything but confident, but his message was clear. “I wish I could, sir. I’d give anything to do as you wish. I simply can’t. The queen would have my liver for her dinner. I’m more afraid of her than I am of you.”

  A familiar female voice joined the mix and even through her veil of tears, Lark couldn’t help but smile.

  “Didn’t I tell you they’re being held prisoners, Uthiel? Draw your sword this minute and run these guards through. You know what I
’m talking about, do that paladin stuff you do. Or better yet, give me the sword and I’ll do it.”

  Lark couldn’t prevent the smile that graced her lips as Uthiel answered his wife. “Now, Briar, don’t be getting excited. You know bad things happen when you do. Just calm down and let us men handle this, please.”

  “Like you handled me? Why, do you plan to drug them? Oh, wait, I forgot, that’s not how a big, strong paladin handles men. That’s what he resorts to when dealing with his wife.”

  Uthiel groaned, “Not now, Briar, please. Later you may make me pay for my actions to your heart’s content.”

  Lark glanced at her sisters and they, too, were smiling for the first time in days. They all knew Briar would have no problem making Uthiel pay in spades for his lapse in judgment when this was all over.

  Another voice came from somewhere beyond the locked door. “I once took a class on escaping if that would be of any help. Of course, I was on the other side of the locks, and there weren’t guards blocking my way.”

  Sherman’s voice faded, and Ally and Audrey sighed. Lark just shook her head.

  “What the black spandex leggings rubbing betwixt the chubby thighs of a toe-tapping, tango-dancing trollop out on the town are ya thinking, lad? We don’t need ta pick the lock. All we need ta do is find the one with the key and take it away from him. I’ve got a dagger that says I’ll get ta search at least four of them before they know what hit them.”

  Adan words were like steel. “There won’t be anyone attacking anyone. These guards are of my realm and as such under my protection. And we have ladies present, remember? I won’t put Briar or Laycee in danger.”

  Lark’s heart sank. There would be no rescue for them. Though she knew her brother loved all his sisters, first and foremost, he was the prince. And his next words confirmed her fears “This tactic isn’t getting us anywhere, and it’s wasting valuable time. I will go speak with my parents and get to the bottom of this. At the moment, the girls are safe.”

  The sound of feet shuffling off into the distance told Lark more than she wanted to know. She looked at Aryanna and could tell she was thinking along the same line. Neither had heard the voices they’d longed to hear. Not once had Sarco or Cyrrick Sunwalker said a single word.

  Were they here? Did they survive the quest? And what about the quest itself? Had it been a success? Or perhaps the brothers had simply decided the Hammerstrike sisters were more trouble than they were worth, and who could blame them?

  Adan made one last comment before his voice completely faded. “Hear me well. No harm is to come to my sisters in any form, or God Draka have mercy on all of your souls.”

  Then silence. Cold as death, lonely as the grave, dark as the longest night…silence.

  ****

  Sarco waited with Cyrrick, Uthiel, Leeky, and Sherman in the challenger’s corner of the arena, his hand wrapped around the hilt of an ancient, rusty barbarian broadsword. Slowly, he turned, glancing about.

  The spectator seats were quickly filling, and excitement hummed in the air. It had been just past midmorning when they’d first stepped back onto the grounds of the Academy and more than three turns of the hourglass had passed since they’d attempted to rescue the girls. It felt more like days.

  What was he going to do? Had he been wise in agreeing to remain silent and allow Adan a chance to work things out his way? Every instinct he possessed had screamed for him to form fireball after fireball and if necessary burn the walls of the Academy down in order to free Lark. His fingers still itched with the need to do just that. But agree he had, and so had Cyrrick, and now time was running out.

  The sun was well past its zenith, the three full moons of Albrath would rise soon, and Lark and her sisters were still locked away. The contest between him and Adan was quickly approaching without a single word of resolution being spoken.

  Horns suddenly trumpeted from somewhere above and bright lights illuminated the stadium. He stared, dumbfounded, at a procession, the likes of which he had never seen.

  The Council of Elders entered, with Great-Uncle Arizon in his midnight-blue robes in the lead, followed by Lark’s grandmother Ava, and the remaining members. The council members seated themselves in the section cordoned off especially for them and looked expectantly toward the floor of the arena.

  Next, Headmistress Seychelle sauntered in with her pet human, Ray, in tow. The human looked directly at Sarco, jumped up and down, and yelled, “Ray loves cock.”

  Quite the greeting. Sarco almost wanted to hug the pathetic excuse for a human as the first real smile he’d felt all day crossed his lips.

  The headmistress didn’t even acknowledge Ray’s outburst. She simply smiled and chatted with onlookers as she made her way across the arena. At the last possible moment, just before she took her seat of honor, Seychelle turned and gave Sarco a quick, sorrowful glance. One that could only be described as a too-bad-you’re-going-to-die look. Sarco didn’t respond. He didn’t know how.

  The tinkling of a thousand bells joined the booming of horns as the King and Queen of Alaria and the Lord and his Lady of Landis made their presence known in royal splendor. First, his own parents, Lord Tylindius and Lady Jillian Sunwalker, with plastic-looking smiles plastered on their faces, waved in his direction as they walked by.

  Sarco wished he had the magic to somehow wipe away the worry lines etching his mother’s face. Even her practiced Lady of the Keep smile couldn’t hide her concern.

  Then came King Alfred and Queen Allanna, with their noses high in the air and their eyes forward. They marched arm in arm to the royal section of the arena and took their seats upon thrones next to Sarco’s parents.

  With a roar, the barbarians, occupying the majority of the bleachers, rose and cheered. The sound filled the arena until it echoed off the walls and the ground below Sarco’s feet shook with it.

  The reason for the roaring became evident as Prince Adan Zeth Conner Hammerstrike entered the arena. He was a sight to behold. Attired in a traditional, barbarian kilt of emerald green and royal blue, along with his shining broadsword swinging from his side, he certainly looked the part of a formidable opponent.

  Sarco gulped. Adan’s muscles bulged as his mighty fist gripped the hilt of his broadsword and hefted the thing high into the air as if it weighed no more than a toothpick.

  The crowd cheered.

  A fine sheen of moisture peppered Sarco’s forehead and upper lip. Yep, he was going to die.

  As if on cue, every barbarian within shouting distance stomped their feet and chanted the Prince’s name.

  “Adan. Adan. Adan.”

  A sudden prod at knee level got Sarco’s attention.

  “Do ya remember what I told ya, lad? Stick and jab, stick and jab. Then, when ya’ve got him reeling, go in for the shot that’ll put him on his knees. A well-placed kick ta the willy-whackers ought ta do the trick. Then, strafe ta the left, that’s his weak side, and melee him if ya can with that there piss-poor excuse for a sword they gave ya. Don’t be killing him if ya can help it. I’ve developed a fondness for the lad. Though the offer’s still open if ya wanna use my special daggers.”

  Sarco patted the gnome on the top of his almost-bald head. “I appreciate the offer, Leeky. Really I do, but I must use the weapon the barbarian queen ordered given to me for this task. It’s one of the rules of the battle, right along with no use of magic, and no outside help. Only the king himself can override her decision.”

  Sarco glanced at his brother and each of his friends in turn. “Promise me, all of you, you won’t interfere, no matter what.”

  Cyrrick shook his head. “If it looks like you’re in danger of being killed, I can’t give you that promise, and you know it.”

  Uthiel coughed and cleared his throat. “It’d be very unpaladin-like of me to stand by and watch my best friend cut down and not interfere, don’t you think? There isn’t much I wouldn’t promise you, Sarco, but I can’t and won’t promise you that.”

  Sherman l
ifted his hand.

  Sarco sighed. “What is it, Sherman?”

  The halfling pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose and ran his fingers through the stubble of his hair. “I once took a class on swordplay, and I could give you pointers, if you like. That wouldn’t be taking unfair advantage, would it? Oh, and I’m with the rest of them on the promise, I’m afraid. I’ve ridden a plastic doll down the side of a mountain of ice, and I’ve punched a dragon in the face. I’m not going to stand by and watch you slain now that the quest is all but finished.”

  Sarco chuckled. “That’s what I thought. I appreciate your loyalty, all of you, really I do. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  He lifted a hand and immediately eighteen high-elf soldiers in full war armor surrounded Cyrrick, Uthiel, Leeky, and Sherman, forming an impenetrable wall between them and Sarco.

  Ignoring the protests of his friends and feeling more alone than he’d ever been in his life, Sarco walked slowly but purposefully to the middle of the arena.

  He turned first toward the Council of Elders and bowed low, then did the same in the direction of the headmistress. Finally, Sarco faced the king, the queen, his parents, and then finally Adan.

  He opened his hand revealing a greenish opalescent object. Holding the ring high above his head for all to see, he addressed the room. “With the help of the men I chose, I plucked the flower from where ice and fire formed a Maiden’s Desire. I withstood the heat where metal and gemstone first meet. And it was with love in mind that this treasure did become divine. When this champion I must face is defeated, I will place this ring upon the finger of the woman I love and make her my wife. This day I will fulfill the prophecy.”

  Cheers rang out and Sarco waited patiently for them to die down. “But first, there is this challenge to complete, and I gladly face it.”

  Sarco pointed to Adan. “It is an honor to battle your barbarian champion to complete the quest and win the right to choose my bride.”