The Sage's Consort (The Scholars of Elandria Book 1)

by Craiker, Krystal

  Rafe peered at Quinn over the top of his book. “What did Quickthorn want this time?” Quinn laughed and handed his best friend the letter. Rafe read it. “Brigitte’s tit!” he exclaimed, a fitting swear in honor of the first Sage. “I didn’t know you had applied for that!” Jack was interested again and grabbed the letter from Rafe. He looked at Quinn in amazement.

  “I didn’t either,” Quinn told them. “Apparently, it’s all professor recommendation. I had no clue.” He chewed his apple, which he swore tasted as if it were the sweetest apple to ever fall from a tree.

  “We’ve got to celebrate!” Rafe exclaimed. “Jack, put your damn herbs away. We’re going to Bucky’s.” Quinn protested half-heartedly, citing their need to study. “No, gallons of ale await us.” And the three friends left their studies to visit their favorite tavern.

  ***

  By the time the trio stumbled back to their dorms that night, Quinn was well and truly drunk. He felt happy and content. He collapsed into bed without undressing and fell to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  Tonight, he dreamed of bright, vivid colors swirling and rich melodies floating through the air. A great darkness approached the colors. The music stopped abruptly. A final screech of a horn sounded, and the darkness swallowed the colors until there was a great nothingness.

  Quinn did not wake, but he recalled the dream in the morning. He pushed his feelings of fear aside, because was far too happy to care. He blamed the copious amounts of Bucky’s strongest brew for the nightmare and went about his studies.

  ***

  At the Villa, the Sage puzzled over this latest dream. If only there were someone she could ask for counsel. Unfortunately, the Sage was the counsel. She scoured her books and the records left by previous Sages. The only time a Sage recorded a strange dream had been three hundred years ago, just before the great Deyoni rebellion had begun.

  ***

  Outside of the Great Northern Forest, a small band of Deyoni had made camp. Their silken tents and painted wagons shone brightly in the moonlight against the dark background of the ancient forest. They had returned to camp at the foot of the forest after their successful venture in a nearby village. Their dancing and fire-breathing had earned them enough money to last through the end of the year. Tonight, they had celebrated.

  Their fire burned, untended. Twenty Deyoni—men, women, and children—lay dead on the ground. A group of strangers had approached in the darkness, wielding swords and axes. The Deyoni had been forbidden for carrying weapons for the last three centuries. On this night, they had no chance of survival.

  Chapter Three

  “I’ve heard she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  Quinn sighed, ignoring Rafe, and continued folding his clothes to place in his trunk. Ever since he had received word the Sage would take him as an apprentice, his friends could talk of nothing but the mysterious woman. That would be fine, he thought, if they cared why she was the Sage. At least Rafe had a bit more decorum when he spoke of the most powerful person in all Elandria. Jack had become increasingly obscene with his fantasies of the Sage.

  “I’ve heard her parties are wild. When she starts dancing, people just start fucking each other, like a spell.” Jack lay reclined on the cobbled floor between Quinn and Rafe’s beds, determined to be obnoxious and in the way while Quinn packed.

  Quinn rolled his eyes. “It’s not a spell. There are no such thing as spells. You’re a Scholar. You should know that. And we’ve been to plenty of parties where people dance and fuck each other. In fact, isn’t that what most parties in Elandria are?” He placed his neatly folded pants in his trunk.

  “Not for you, they’re not,” Jack countered. “I bet the Sage is amazing in bed. Not that it matters for you, Quinn. We all know ladies aren’t really your thing.”

  Quinn threw a freshly-laundered linen shirt at his redheaded philanderer of a friend. Just because he didn’t screw everything with breasts did not mean he was uninterested. He may be far from home, but the liberated culture in Teleah still felt taboo. Four years in the city had not been enough to break him of years of indoctrination. Four years with Jack as a friend had not been enough.

  “I’m joking. If you preferred men, you wouldn’t have turned me down in first year.” Jack threw back Quinn’s shirt, then took a swig of whiskey from his flask. “It’s not fair though. You are going to apprentice with the sexiest woman in the world, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

  “I appreciate it plenty. I appreciate that I’m going to study with the most intelligent Scholar that ever lived. I appreciate that I’m going to learn her magic. I appreciate that she’s going to teach me about people and nature and politics and medicine.” He packed away the rest of his clothes and began to gather the last of his belongings that made their home on his desk.

  His friends groaned. He knew they were jealous as Scholars, though, and not just as young men with high sex drives. He packed his books, noticing how many of the titles were written by the current Sage. In less than twenty-four hours, he could discuss her work with the Scholar herself.

  He remembered the first book of hers he ever read, at the young age of fourteen. By that time, he had read every work of every Sage and Scholar that his tiny village library held. The librarian handed him the brand-new book, written by a first-year Scholar student. It was deeper, more insightful than any other work he had read. But it was also fun to read. Scholar works tended to be dry like encyclopedias. But Taboos in Earth Magic was witty and vibrant. He read it in one night, then he read it again the next day.

  The girl wrote three more books that year. Quinn was amazed when he learned these brilliant works were written by a sixteen-year-old. Her gift had been identified by an early teacher, and she left for the city two years earlier than most with the Gift. And news began to travel about a young girl who with the strongest Gift anyone had seen. Her earth magic was second to no one, living or dead. She brought an amazing insight into healing and medicine that she had taught herself as a young girl. Her intuition for reading people was unsettling. She completed four years of study in only two, and she went to apprentice with the Sage of the time.

  After only three months, the current Sage, Marietta, shocked the country when she said she had nothing more to teach the girl. She had taught her the politics required of the Sage, but the girl’s power exceeded her own. The middle-aged woman publicly stated that she could no longer call herself Sage when the Gift was so strong in another. Most Sages held their position until they died, and on their death beds would select as Sage the Scholar who demonstrated the greatest power. But Marietta retired to a mansion by the sea, and a girl named Amarice became Sage at the age of eighteen, the youngest and most powerful to ever live.

  That was eight years ago, when Quinn was just sixteen. In those eight years, Quinn had read every book, article, and pamphlet the Sage had ever written. He admired her intelligence and wit. It took him several more years to get to the Academy for Scholars in the capital city. Most people never left his tiny northern village of Corthy, and he had to work hard to pay for the journey. He was only two years older than most of the students in his year, but his rural upbringing often had him feeling years younger.

  He had wanted to be a Scholar since he was a small boy. Once his Gift was identified, his sole purpose in life became finding his way to Teleah to study at the Academy. He had hoped he could at least hear the Sage speak once in his life. He never dreamed he would be packing his trunk to move to her Villa.

  As his peers prepared for either another year of study or various apprenticeships in the city, Quinn prepared to move to the lush, green Sage Mountains outside the city to study under his idol. The shock had not yet worn off; a large part of Quinn still believed his apprenticeship had been a mistake.

  “…and then we’ll go to Bucky’s Tavern. Is that good, Quinn?” Rafe’s voice snapped him back to reality. His best friends had organized a farewell party in his honor.

  �
��Bucky’s. Yeah, that’s great.”

  “You heard nothing else I said, did you? Dinner in town, a party in the square, then Bucky’s. And Sarah will be there. She’s devastated you’re leaving. Here, start drinking.” Rafe handed him the flask. He knew Quinn well enough that any mention of a woman interested in his friend would have him nervous and withdrawn. Liquor fixed that, usually, and kept Quinn laughing. Just once, though, he would have liked to see Quinn leave his anxious mind and live in the moment.

  Quinn took a large drink of the whiskey, enjoying the burn on his throat. He liked Sarah; he would be stupid not to like her. She was gorgeous, and smart, and funny. But he did not know if he connected enough to give her what she wanted; he certainly did not love her. It did not matter anymore. He was going away tomorrow for an indeterminate amount of time, and she would begin apprenticing at the local hospital. He decided not to fret about it. He was going to get drunk with his friends on his last night in the city. Tomorrow was a new chapter.

  ***

  Quinn took care to notice all the details of the city where he had made his home the last four years. He stayed quiet, absorbing the moment, while Rafe and Jack laughed and hollered behind him. They had already drunk much more than Quinn, as usual.

  As dusk fell and the lamplighters illuminated the cobblestone streets, Quinn smiled. Although he had grown up on a farm in the northern moorlands, he had grown to love Teleah with all its character and life. Narrow wooden buildings, often painted in bright colors, wedged next to stone architecture colored with history. Shop owners and patrons alike were typically friendly, in stark contrast to the cold, gossipy villagers of Quinn’s youth. The Scholars’ presence was undeniable: every two or three blocks, luscious gardens and green spaces abounded for all residents of Teleah to enjoy. Over all the busy streets, the palace rested on a hilltop. White stone glistened in the sunset, a beacon of the centuries-long peace that kept all the people of Elandria safe and content. Till recently, Quinn thought bitterly.

  The narrow streets near the ancient Academy were busy tonight. Teleans bundled up against the wind in cloaks. Peppered in the crowd of the citizens were more students than usual for a weeknight. The school year ended with a full week before the new year, so the students had created their own unofficial holiday week. Few students returned home between terms, choosing instead to stay in the capital to drink, party, recover, and do it all again the next night. Barkeeps worked overtime, but by the Feast of Fire that marked the year’s end, their safes were filled with extra coin.

  They passed a large, open recreation area. Campfires burned among tents of brightly colored fabric. At least a hundred Deyoni had sat up camp here. It was strange; the nomadic tribes usually balked at city life, preferring instead the open lands where they encountered fewer prejudiced Elandrians. They had a reputation for being thieves and charlatans; even most Scholars viewed them with a certain arrogant disdain. Quinn inquired from his friends as to their presence in the park.

  Rafe informed him Teleah and the other major cities were seeing an influx of Deyoni. After the unexplained slaughter of a small tribe, the nomads felt unsafe. Many in the outlying areas had used the attack as a reason to turn violent toward other Deyoni tribes. The cities held much stronger pro-Deyoni laws, thanks in large part to the work of the young Sage. She had used much of her political influence to help end legal discrimination against the culture, but she had not managed to convince the Parliament to overturn the three-hundred-year weapons ban. Unable to adequately protect themselves, they headed for the safety of the cities.

  Rafe always viewed the Deyoni with respect. Quinn simply felt curious. Once, when he was a boy, a large tribe had set up a carnival near his village. His parents would not let him go see the legendary shows and dances, citing the sinful nature of their beliefs. He recalled his mother, in general a passive woman, yelling at his younger self for his perpetual nag to go. Her uncharacteristic outburst shut the boy up quickly. The Deyoni did not stay long, because every shopkeeper in Corthy refused to sell them so much as a loaf of bread.

  A block past the Deyoni’s impromptu camp, smells of roasted meats drifted onto the street from a small wooden building. The young men entered the cozy, low-light establishment. A few more of the trio’s cohort joined them for dinner in Quinn’s favorite restaurant. Sarah had traded her typical cotton pants and tunic for a fitted dress of thin, blue silk. It revealed much of her back and shoulders, where her normally-braided blonde hair cascaded. Quinn could not help but think she must be cold; the height of winter was upon them, and though Teleah was relatively temperate, Quinn had opted for leather pants and a heavy tunic to beat the chill. Once the alcohol took effect, the student Scholars would be unable to use their magic to keep themselves warm. Sarah sat herself next to Quinn at the restaurant, laughing at every word that came out of his mouth and placing a hand on him at every chance she got. He grew increasingly uncomfortable, and in response, drank copious amounts of sweet mead.

  With their bellies full of warm food and good libations, the rambunctious crowd ambled toward the square. Every night of the last week of the year boasted a party of young student Scholars. Musically-inclined peers played their instruments, while the rest danced, laughed, and passed bottles of whiskey and wine through the crowd.

  Normally Quinn found the parties too loud and crowded. Tonight, he felt the rhythm of the drums in his blood, swaying without a care. He laughed with Rafe about Jack’s shameless dancing. He watched the girls dance and even smiled when Sarah eyed him seductively. His head grew cloudy with drink, and the swaying turned into spinning.

  He found a seat on stone bench to regain his senses. Two younger students were intertwined on the other end of the bench, not at all discreet with their passion for one another. This was the norm at parties in the capital; soon couples would run off and hide behind trees or in partially abandoned alleys. Quinn laughed aloud at the memory of the first time he caught Rafe with a girl; he had wandered around the streets and heard his roommate’s voice from the alley behind a bar. Worried he was in danger, Quinn had drunkenly staggered to save his friend, only to find him in the middle of making love to the barmaid he had met earlier that evening. Quinn had stood there, awkwardly apologizing until Rafe yelled at him to go away.

  The couple on the bench stopped kissing at the sound of Quinn’s laughter. They shot him a rude glance, assuming he had laughed at them, before disappearing into the crowd. Quinn stretched his tall frame out across the cold bench, enjoying the drums and winter breeze. He may never have fully felt a part of Teleah, but he would miss this city.

  ***

  After some time, Rafe found Quinn and yelled in his ear that they should head toward Bucky’s Tavern. Quinn stumbled behind him, his ears still pounding with the noise of the drums even three blocks away. His horde of friends followed raucously. Jack sang offensive songs at the top of his lungs, swaying in the dark, with a girl he had just met on his arm.

  Bucky’s was already crowded by the time the crew arrived. Despite his busy establishment, Bucky greeted Quinn with a cheerful bellow. The trio had spent many hours here, and the tall, chocolate-skinned barkeep had grown attached to his favorite young patrons. He assured Quinn with a toothy grin that everything he drank tonight would not cost him a dime.

  The bar was warm and bright. Bucky had placed mirrors around the wooden walls to reflect the light of the oil lamps. Often when Quinn and his friends left the tavern, they were shocked to discover it was still dark outside because Bucky’s always felt thoroughly alive. Quinn once realized it was a genius business model: make guests forget how late it is, and they will just keep drinking.

  The group recounted their favorite memories of the last four years at the Academy. Even though only Quinn would leave the capital tomorrow, their various apprenticeships guaranteed much less socializing in the year to come. And in a year, they would start careers of their own all over the country.

  The night wore on. Jack disappeared with the young woman fr
om earlier and a handsome second-year boy. Rafe had attempted to challenge every person in the tavern to a drinking game, but everyone just laughed at his slurred speech and sloppy grin. A visiting minstrel played a fast-paced ballad on his stringed instrument. Rafe, having lost all sense of decorum several pints previously, climbed on a table and began to dance. Cheered on by the crowd, he made a fool of himself, relishing the attention.

  Quinn watched his friend from the back wall, smiling. Sarah sidled up to him and slipped her arm around his waist. She smelled good, like roses and honey. His heart pounded in his chest; he worried she would hear it. “Rafe is ridiculous when he’s drunk,” Sarah commented. “He basically becomes Jack. Well, sober Jack. Drunk Jack becomes a whore.” Quinn nodded and sipped his ale.

  Put your arm around her, he told himself. He unfroze and placed his hand on the small of her back. Her silk dress was hardly a barrier between his hand and her skin. He no longer cared what Rafe was doing, but he felt unsure what to do next. He looked down at the blonde woman next to him; though she was tall, he still towered over her.

  Sarah reached up and stroked Quinn’s neatly parted brown hair. “You’re so shy,” she murmured. His breathing quickened in anticipation. “I’m going to kiss you, all right?” He nodded, and she stretched to meet his lips with hers.

  She kissed him forcefully, and, he could not help but notice, a bit sloppily. But she smelled good, so he returned the kiss. His head was thick with drink and desire. When she broke away, she took his hand and led him through the crowd and up the tavern stairs to the few rooms Bucky leased. Quinn followed, studying the curve of her hips and the pale skin of her back. Upstairs, Sarah fumbled with the lock on a narrow wooden door. It was quieter up here, but Quinn could still hear the raucous laughter from below. “I reserved a room earlier today before they were all taken,” she told him. “I was hoping you would let me give a you a farewell gift.” She shot him a sensual glance as she unlocked the door.