I played with the reins in my lap. “The man didn't roll into the fire. And he wasn't close enough to the pit for the flames to reach him.”
“Perhaps you misjudged the distance.” My brother’s reply was gentle. “The man could’ve fallen in while you were dazed.”
“But he was too far away.” My words were desperate, and I could hear the plea in the back of my throat. Believe me.
“Did anything feel different?” he pressed. “Were you unusually hot or lightheaded? Did you think of fire?” All the traditional symptoms of magic.
“My hand burned, and just about everything hurt… I wasn't lightheaded exactly, but my head did really ache afterward.” I paused. “And no, I was too angry and afraid to be thinking of anything except what was happening.”
Alex frowned. “That doesn't sound like a casting, or at least what it's like for me.”
An idea hit me. “Do you think my pain released the magic?”
Alex appeared thoughtful. “Maybe… but then how is it that it only worked once? He hurt you several times before it occurred. And how many times have you injured yourself sparring in Demsh’aa with your friends?”
That was true, but then nothing about magic made sense. Maybe there was an answer, and I would find it at the Academy. Groping around in my bags, I eagerly pulled out my father's hunting knife.
“Ryiah,” my brother yelped, “what are you—”
Ignoring Alex's cry of alarm, I dug the blade into the center of my palm, reopening freshly sealed wounds as blood dripped down past my wrist.
At the same time, I observed a yellowish-green mass that clung to a nearby tree. The moss looked like a perfect target, a furry patch of flammable tufts.
I increased the pressure of the blade.
Almost immediately, the moss began to shrivel and smoke.
“Alex!”
My brother's jaw dropped as he followed my gaze.
I continued to add pressure, hardly conscious of the pain as flames sprouted on the moss. “Look, I have magic!”
My voice was raspy and hoarse. I wanted to scream, but I was too afraid it would break the concentration of power on the tree.
Breaking free from his initial shock, my twin rode over and snatched the knife away with a huff.
“Alex!”
The moss crumbled to the ground in a withered heap, the flames gone.
My brother gave me a dark look, brandishing the knife. “You shouldn't have to maim yourself to cast, Ryiah.” Clearly, any brotherly elation was lost in the wake of my blood.
He was right, of course.
“I wasn't even sure I could.” My mind was racing. Now that I knew what it felt like, could I do it again? Without cutting myself?
Staring determinedly at a second tree, I willed my magic to take flight naturally, without inflicting pain.
Nothing.
I squinted harder, ignoring the throbbing of my hand and the pounding in my head as I ogled a yellow-green mound on the trunk. Every thought, every part of me strained as I attempted to project my magic onto the nearby moss.
Still, it remained unchanged…
I tried, again and again. And again.
Eventually we passed a whole forest of moss-lined trees without so much as the slightest hint of fire, not even smoke.
By the time we made camp for the evening, I was frustrated and coarse.
“What is wrong with me?” I tore into my dried jerky with vengeance. “Why can't things ever come easy like they do for you?”
Alex wasn’t rising to my bait. “You’d make a great soldier or knight, but you want to be a mage. You picked an uphill road from the start.”
I made a frustrated sound. “Everyone knows that mages are the best.” They had the power, the status, rooms in the king’s palace, and all the coin they’d ever need. A knight was a lofty goal, but how could I explain that it wasn’t enough?
There was this driving pull, and it’d been a part of me for years—ever since that day six years ago when a patrol from the Crown’s Army regiment stopped by our village on their way to the palace in Devon.
There’d been a swarm of soldiers and knights to captivate my brothers and the village boys, but the person who caught my eye was the sole Combat mage avoiding attention in the back of their squad. I’d seen the way the others deferred to her. She’d had their respect, and she didn’t have to lift the heaviest sword or flex her muscles to do it. She just was.
It was like that with all magical factions, but there was something special about Combat.
That was the day I’d started to dream of carrying that kind of power and respect. It was intoxicating, and I couldn’t let it go.
“You chose the hardest path because it was hard. I chose Restoration because I wanted to heal people.”
“I want to help them too!”
“You want to be a war mage to save people, and be the hero they remember. Healers and alchemists do the same without the fancy title.”
Who didn’t want to be the hero? Everyone knew the ones who chose Combat were a little power-hungry and mad, but we were also the ones who shaped a war. I wasn’t going to apologize for wanting more.
Vain? Perhaps. Ambitious? Definitely. But that’s the kind of mage Jerar needed. You didn’t become the most powerful country from shaking hands.
“None of that will matter if I have to bloody myself every time I need to cast.” Imagine that, a mage who had to slit her wrists just to fight a duel. I’d be dead in a matter of weeks.
My brother reached out to take my hand. “I'm sure the masters will be able to show you how to use your power without hurting yourself.”
I hoped so. If not, I was in for a very troubling year.
Alex grinned. “And once you’ve mastered it, you can make some normal friends. Not the power-hungry ones like yourself.”
Ha. “You think you’re so hilarious.”
“You’re laughing because it’s true.”
WE WERE RIDING along a steep switchback the next morning when the ground started to shake.
“By the gods, what is that commotion?”
Our horses fidgeted, tossing their heads and alternating from one leg to the next.
Alex swallowed. “We need to dismount. The horses are getting nervous.”
It sounded like a stampede.
I left my brother with the horses and started toward the center of the road, trying to discern where the tremors were coming from. The whole area sounded like thunder, and there wasn’t a storm cloud in the sky. It was right around the corner, whatever it was. In seconds, I would be able to see—
“Ry, get off the path!” My brother jerked me back just as nine tall, slick black horses emerged, taking up the entire trail with their riders. The men were riding in a two-column formation with livery that gleamed in the afternoon light.
Eight of the riders bore heavy chainmail with metal plates lining their arms and chests. Knights. The expression underneath their helmets was dark and unrelenting.
My mouth went dry as I took a deep breath. If Alex hadn't pulled me out of the way, I would’ve been trampled to death.
At the center of the procession rode a young man. He didn’t appear much older than us. He wasn’t wearing livery like the others, but there was something formidable enough about his posture. I had the overwhelming impression that he was anything but helpless.
Everything about the rider's dress unnerved me—his hair, cloak, his pants, the boots, even his fastenings were black. What was even more unsettling, the stranger had the most unusual eyes I'd ever seen. They were garnet, somewhere between black and a deep crimson, a juxtaposition of two colors that should never exist.
The stranger locked eyes with me as he spotted my brother and me in passing. He scowled, and I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut. I was used to the bizarre behavior of our nobles back home, but this rider's condescension was much deeper. What sort of person carries that much hostility toward strangers?
Still, I co
uldn't look away.
It was only after the group of riders had completely passed that I recalled what the young man had been wearing. Hanging by a thick chain around his neck, there’d been a hematite stone pendant.
There was only one family in the entire kingdom who was allowed to wear a black gem of that description.
Apparently, I had just watched one of the realm's two princes pass me on horseback.
It took a moment for the shock to register.
“Do you know who that was?”
Alex nodded speechlessly.
“Do you think he's going to the Academy?” I paused. What was I saying? Of course, he wasn't.
No member of the royal family was allowed to participate. It’d been that way since the school's founding, and in the ninety years the school existed, no one had ever questioned the Council of Magic's ruling.
Alex seemed to be of the same mind. “There hasn't ever been an issue between our king and the mages. I doubt one would arise now.”
I hesitated. “Well, the prince certainly looked unhappy about something.”
My brother didn’t look concerned. “Maybe someone almost trampled his sister.” The two princes didn’t have a sister, but my brother was making a point. “He certainly didn’t care about any other riders on the trail. Just like the nobility, thinking the roads were only made for them. He probably expected us to bow.”
“He almost rode us off the cliff.”
“Highborns.” My brother gave a groan. “They are all the same.”
And we were about to meet a bunch at the Academy. I couldn’t wait.
WHEN WE FINALLY REACHED OUR destination, the sun had set, and in its place was a rosy-golden hue. A soft glow chased what remained of our journey, and I followed its vague outline across the hillside below.
Tiny boxes dotted the landscape, little shops and houses at the center of the western seaside. Sjeka was the only western port for miles, but it was more famous for the war school it housed. The Academy.
A well-trodden dirt path wove between the huts, slithering until it finally came to rest at the base of an enormous structure.
Thick, dark slabs of grayish stone upheld a striking fortress with twin towers peaking out into the sky. Three colored cloth banners hung from poles attached to each side of the edifice. One for each faction: forest green, ember red, and raven black.
I swallowed. The castle was at least four levels high at its lowest point. It was as tall as a hill.
“If this is the Academy, what do you think the king's palace looks like?” Alex wheezed.
I had no answer.
Nudging the mare a step forward and then another, I began to make my descent. Alex followed softly behind, and in what seemed like ages but was probably only minutes, we arrived at the Academy doors.
At their center, two heavy wrought steel handles awaited.
The two of us dismounted and handed off our reins to a waiting hostler.
Taking a deep breath, I reached for a handle and gingerly pulled.
It didn't budge.
Frowning, Alex joined me, and the two of us heaved until it finally creaked open.
As soon as we were inside, I lost what little of my breath remained.
Everything I had heard… it didn’t do justice to what my eyes were seeing now. Of course, I’d known the Academy would be beautiful.
But I hadn't known it would be… so much.
The floor was paved in black marble so every step we took echoed along the hall.
In a contrast that should have been jarring but wasn't, the walls were a rough, uncut sandstone. On them, metal sconces held ever-burning torches in place, but instead of the natural, golden radiance of fire, they emitted a flickering, crystalline blue. An alchemist’s work.
At the end of the passage was a large room containing an enormous, spiraling staircase.
When I approached the atrium, the sheer size of it seemed to grow. The stairs stood out at its center, steadily rising, secured by thick iron railings on either side. As it touched the second floor, the rail separated into two twisting cases with a giant, many-paned window at their base. Facing due west, the window revealed the jagged rocks and sea.
Moonlight bathed the entire room, and when I looked up, I found the most riveting feature yet. The ceiling had been constructed entirely of stained glass. Thousands of twinkling red and gold glass fragments greeted my open-mouthed gaze. Wow.
“Ugh. Two more lowborns.”
Startled out of my trance, I took in the rest of the room. I’d failed to notice the large gathering of people at my left. A hundred or so young men and women were clustered around a figure I couldn't quite make out. Most were distracted by the speaker in the center, but a couple of stragglers were eyeing my brother and me warily.
Instantly, I became conscious of what we must look like. Five days of horsehair and exhaustion. Riding clothes stained with dirt and sweat and blood. My hair a shoulder-length tangled disaster. Even our arms bore a nice coating of dust since that morning. Not to mention the bruises spotting my arms and blisters in my fist.
So much for first impressions.
I ignored the stares and followed my brother as he pushed his way through the crowd, attempting to catch a glimpse of who was commanding everyone's attention. As I squeezed past arms and elbows, I caught my foot on something hard and tripped.
Luckily, it was so packed that I just ended up colliding with the person in front of me instead of landing face down on the floor.
I started to apologize. “I'm so—”
The tall stranger turned around.
It was him, the prince with the angry eyes from the mountains.
Hours later, and his expression hadn't changed.
“—sorry.”
He just looked at me, irritated. I felt heat start to rise in my cheeks under his taciturn stare, but seconds later I was facing his back again.
Well, he's a delight, I thought dryly.
Having just annoyed one of the heirs to the kingdom of Jerar, I decided to move on to less provoking tactics. I safely navigated my way through the rest of the mass and joined Alex, far away from the prince.
In the front, a large man stood conversing with his audience in a layered, black silk robe. I recognized him from the insignia on his sleeve.
“Is that Master Barclae?”
Alex nodded.
Master Barclae, or as his title commanded, “Master of the Academy,” was a handsome man with sharp features and a salt and pepper mustache that suited his face. He’d started leading the Academy a year or two before Alex and I’d been born. Many said it was because of him that Jerar's last Candidacy had had such strong contenders.
I strained to hear what he was saying.
“—first two months will be spent exploring the fundamentals and identifying the faction you will choose to commit your studies to. The remainder will be spent learning the foundation of its magic.”
Someone mumbled a question.
The large man laughed coldly. “There is no such thing as ‘rest.’ If you want an easy career, you should have applied to one of the other schools our Crown sponsors. The School of Knighthood, perhaps, or maybe the Cavalry? The latter's retention is so high, I suspect they hang gum drops from its rafters.”
I glanced at my brother. There was nothing easy about either of the schools the master had mentioned.
Alex returned my anxious smile with one of his own. Too late to turn back now.
“Why are there only fifteen? Because fifteen is already too generous. Magic is hardly common enough to justify that number—the only reason we have that many is because the Crown demands at least fifteen new war mages each year to enter its company. At one point it was higher, but that was a waste of resources and jeopardized the training of the few who deserved to be here. The Academy's expectations are demanding, and it would be idiocy to train incompetents. It is a privilege we allow fifteen as it is.”
The students continued to pester t
he man with questions until he finally cleared his throat. “That is enough for tonight. It’s late, and your official induction will take place tomorrow morning.” He snorted. “Try to save such senseless queries for your other masters.” Without bothering to wait for a response, the master of the Academy exited the podium, disappearing through a corridor on my left.
A frenzied manservant appeared before we could scatter.
“Master Barclae will return in the morning,” the man squeaked. “If you haven't done so already, please check in with Constable Barrius, our master staffer, in the east wing. He will go over the expected conduct.”
Almost immediately, the crowd dispersed. Most of the students set off in the same direction as Master Barclae, while my brother and I followed a handful of others to the right.
As we began to make our way down another long corridor, I groaned. Alex was already flirting with a girl in the back.
Ugh.
I caught the eye of a friendly-looking girl at the front. If I didn’t make friends, it would be a long year of watching Alex’s trail of broken hearts. “I guess I can see why my parents didn't want me to choose the Academy.”
The girl laughed. “My older brother tried out a couple of years ago. He said it was only as hard as you make it…” Her eyes glimmered. “Then again, Jeff was one of the first to resign, so maybe I shouldn't be listening to a word my brother says.”
I grinned. “I'm Ryiah.'“
“Ella,” she told me with a dark hand outstretched.
“I'm here with my twin.” I nodded to my brother. He was too busy to notice, flirting shamelessly with his infamous grin.
Poor girl doesn’t stand a chance.
“You two don't look much alike.”
I shrugged. People always pointed that out, even fifteen years after birth.
“So where are you from?” Ella asked.
“A couple days east. Have you heard of Demsh'aa?”
Ella nodded, ebony locks falling across her hazel eyes. “My father usually visits the apothecary there whenever he passes through. He likes the sleep sachets and swears they are better than the ones he buys from the palace alchemists.”
“That's our family’s store.” I smiled. “Alex made those. We didn't get half as much business when it was just my parents. He's always had a gift. It was the biggest surprise when he said he wanted to be a healer.”
The Black Mage: Complete Series Page 3