The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  I clenched my fists until I could no longer feel them. Hot blood pulsed under my skin. Prince or not, I had never come this close to punching someone outside of an arena.

  “You…” I couldn't even come up with the rest.

  Darren continued on, unaware of how dangerously he was treading. “Really, it's unthinkable that the masters could even consider the possibility of denying me in favor of someone like you who plainly has no purpose attempting the robes in the first place.”

  My nails dug into my palm, and I was vaguely aware of the warm trickle of blood filling my fist. Heat clouded my vision, and Darren's smug face filled my mind. “When I say people like you.” His words were like fire, singeing my skin as they piled into an inferno of red.

  “What are you—stop! RYIAH!”

  My vision cleared, and I realized Darren was shouting, madly shaking the sleeves of his cloak, flames licking across its edges. The flames were growing higher every second, perilously close to his arms.

  “Don't just stand there!” he snarled. “Make it stop!”

  I looked down at my hands, which had since unclasped. There was no more pressure or pain. The fire should have snuffed out on its own like it had that time with the moss.

  Only it hadn't. Just like that other time with the bandit. What’s wrong with me?

  Fear pooled in my gut. “I can't!”

  “Well, it’s your magic!” he shot back. “I already used up my stamina—” He swore as a flame nicked his skin.

  “Ryiah!”

  I raced over and bit back a cry as fire caught my skin. I helped hold Darren’s sleeves while he pulled his arms out one by one. As soon as he finished, I tossed the cloak to the floor, stomping out the remaining flames against the marble floor.

  “You bloody fool!” The sleeves of his thin undershirt were scorched in several places, revealing painful red swells on both wrists and part of his forearm.

  “I didn't mean to!”

  “Of course, you didn't mean to!” Darren was livid. “You have no control over your own magic!”

  I winced. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Darren lifted one arm at a time, testing the extent of his injury and frowning.

  “Do you want me to help you back to your quarters?” He needed to soak those burns before they started to blister. I didn't have to be my brother to understand the basics of self-preservation.

  Darren laughed hoarsely. “I'm staying right where I am. I didn't come all this way to turn back.”

  I gaped at him. “You can't be serious!”

  “I've had worse.” The prince picked up his books and carried them over to his usual chair. He noticed my stare and added, “You don't become the best if you aren't willing to stick your hand in the fire.”

  “I always thought that was an expression.”

  The corner of his lip twitched, and for a moment, I thought Darren was about to smile. “I think it was… until tonight.”

  FOR THE REST of the evening, I remained on the first floor of the library with the newly injured non-heir. I could have retired to my alcove, but there was a certain amount of guilt—and curiosity—that prevented me from leaving. Whatever I thought of Darren, he was never what I expected.

  I wondered what “I’ve had worse” meant. Darren was a prince. How much suffering could a child of the Crown have? I ground my teeth. He must’ve been mocking me.

  Still, what if he wasn’t? If anything, there’d been an edge of bitterness to his reply. It was unsettling.

  What does a prince have to be bitter about?

  “Are you done staring?”

  Dropping my quill in surprise, I flushed and mumbled, “I-I didn't realize I was.”

  Darren sighed. “You know, I was wrong about you earlier.”

  I gaped at him. Is he apologizing to me?

  “But I hope you understand why I wasn't wrong to assume it.”

  I bristled. “What are you talking about?”

  Darren pointed to the book in my lap. “We've been down here for thirty minutes, and you’ve yet to turn the page. For someone so bent on Combat, you are making a lot of mistakes.”

  That was only because he’d distracted me, but I wasn’t going to say that.

  “How did you know I was going to pick Combat?”

  “Please.” Darren smirked. “I've seen you in the practice yards. No one spends that much time trying to impress Sir Piers for his charm. It would be admirable, if you actually knew what you were doing.”

  “Please, enlighten me,” I growled.

  The prince cocked his head to the side. “Hard work doesn't mean anything here if you don't have the magic to back it.”

  I glared at the prince. “I have magic. You saw it.”

  “You aren't trying to develop it.”

  “I’m trying!” I resisted slamming my book on the table. I seemed to lose my temper around the prince awfully fast.

  Darren shot me an incredulous look. “You spend all your time in those books and drilling with your friends.”

  “What does that even mean?” I demanded.

  He gave me a lazy half-smile. “If you really want an apprenticeship, I’m sure you'll figure it out.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke with dread. My stomach was in knots, and Darren's counsel had done nothing to help me sleep through the night. The best first-year in the school had insinuated I was making a huge mistake, and instead of telling me how to fix it, he had left me to fend for myself.

  “You spend all your time in those books and drilling with your friends.” What was wrong with that? I devoted more time than any other student, with the exception of his arrogant highness, to my studies. Wasn't that what I was supposed to be doing?

  And what did Darren mean when he said he had been right to assume I was one of “them,” the ones with no real magic or potential? We hadn't even started casting yet. How could he even discern who the ones with potential were without seeing them cast beforehand?

  He had to be alluding to Master Cedric's lessons. His were the only ones I continued to struggle with. But it was meditation. Who hadn't fallen asleep during it at least once?

  And, sure, I hadn't exactly tried to improve my standing, but I only had so much time. I couldn't do well in everything. What more could Darren expect of me? Surely learning to fight and magic’s foundation were more important than focusing on a blade of grass for two hours?

  And why did it matter in the first place? Darren wasn't a master. He was a first-year, a very, very opinionated, arrogant first-year.

  I shoved my blankets off my cot and stood resolutely. Darren didn't know what he was talking about. He was just trying to unnerve me. Maybe my potential scared him. I wouldn't put it past the prince to try and intimidate me into leaving.

  Determined not to give Darren's words another thought, I hurried to the dining commons to join my friends.

  Ella grinned. “Ready to embrace the magical realm of blood and bandages?”

  I groaned. “No.”

  It was bound to be a long, arduous week.

  6

  The first day of Restoration didn’t end. If I’d ever complained of a lack of time before, I sorely regretted it now.

  Four hours were spent staring at complicated diagrams of human anatomy. Thousands of strange names for the parts of the body and the various rules one was expected to understand in order to mend. We learned the most common complaints during a warrior’s service, and I was surprised to see how much time was spent going over natural maladies. Battle wounds were too advanced for the week's orientation.

  Instead, we were to focus on the most common afflictions for service in the Crown’s Army: jungle rot, frostbite, burns, and dehydration.

  Alex and I had an advantage thanks to our years in the family apothecary, but for me most of that knowledge was lost to some frazzled recess in the corners of my mind. Alex did well, but Darren's warning from the night before kept invading my thoughts, destroying any semblance of concentration I had
.

  The next few hours were even more disheartening. Piers kept our regular conditioning, with its various laps and lunging and stretching in between, but he traded our staffs for heavy, weighted sacks of grain.

  We were instructed to carry, lift, and drag them up and down the field. Repeatedly. For an hour.

  “Those are your patients,” the knight barked. “Don't think you'll always be able to treat a victim in the middle of a battlefield. If there's still a fight going on, you'll need to get them to safety first. So pick up the pace, children!”

  By the end of the exercise, my arms were too weak to even reach up and adjust my hair in its tie.

  Master Cedric's exercise wasn't any better. If I’d thought our first week of actual casting would change things, I was wrong. It didn't. At least not in the way I’d hoped.

  With the help of his assistants, Cedric had us divide into several small groups and take turns healing one another from the maladies we had studied earlier while the rest of the group watched. We were given two tasks, describe the natural treatment aloud and then cast out our magic using a projection of that method to heal our patient. If we failed, the next person in our group would start his or her own attempt.

  I did well enough during the first half of the lesson. But when it came time to cast the cures for our patients, I was useless.

  “What do you think you are doing, first-year?”

  I whirled around to find Master Cedric frowning. I glanced at the small knife in my fist. It was my turn to cast.

  “She can't cast without injury, sir,” Alex volunteered. “She's tried, but for some reason—”

  “Is this true?” Master Cedric stared hard at me.

  I reddened and nodded wordlessly.

  “Perhaps next time you will think twice before falling asleep in my class.” The master walked away without a second glance while Alex and Ella gawked after him.

  “Did he really just say that?”

  “He's not even going to try and help you!”

  I tossed the blade to the ground, furious. What good was my magic here if the masters refused to help me?

  Alex elbowed me. “Don't let him get to you, Ryiah. He probably just lost his temper because you aren’t the only one.”

  Several other students couldn’t cast at all. There were rumors they’d come without magic… I had magic, I just couldn’t access it.

  What was wrong with me? My twin didn’t have any problem with casting.

  I stared at the girl across from me. Master Cedric's assistant had given her the first symptoms of frostbite. She was waiting for me to heal her and glaring. No one in pain liked waiting.

  I tried to remember what Master Cedric has said at the beginning of class.

  “Use all your senses. Shut out everything. Focus solely on the projection in your mind... Once you have a strong hold of what you need to do, project your will into it, and if you’ve done so correctly, your magic should come through.” I kept repeating the instructions over and over in my head, willing my magic to take effect.

  But it never did.

  At one point, I caught Darren watching me from the corner of his eye. When I whirled around to catch him, he gave me a wink before casting a healing of his own.

  A perfect healing.

  I felt like screaming.

  “Maybe next time.” Ella gave my shoulder an awkward pat.

  The assistant returned to heal my partner, and I looked down to avoid any more sympathetic glances from the rest of our group. No one else had failed this exercise. Others in other groups, yes, but I was the lone wolf here ready to tear off my own arm if it would help.

  “I'm sure once Master Cedric sees how hard you are trying, he will change his mind,” Ella offered. Like Alex, she had no idea why my magic wasn't working. None of her suggestions had worked either.

  I sighed. Judging from the mild-mannered master's response, my two dozing incidents in his class were irreparable.

  Alex, on the other hand, did even better than expected. He grasped Master Cedric's lesson almost immediately. Even though I'd only seen him cast the most basic of healings back home, he was adept at putting the new castings to work. When it was his turn, it took only minutes for my brother to heal his patient of a sunburn.

  I tried to tell myself that it was just Restoration, that my castings didn't matter here, but it was hard to evade the truth. If I couldn't cast now, how would my week of Combat be any different?

  THAT EVENING AFTER DINNER, Ella did not come with me to the field to continue our nightly conditioning. She needed to spend the extra time studying now that we had moved on from the basics. The rest of our group went with her, including Alex.

  When I arrived at the armory, I wasn’t alone. Granted, there were fewer students now that we had started the first faction's orientation, but there were at least twenty first-years drilling when I arrived.

  Someone had brought out a pile of staffs and blunt training swords. Glancing at the two weapons, I considered trying the blade. It would be the perfect distraction to my dismal day thus far, but without Ella’s instruction, I knew the best thing to do would be continue working on my practiced routine with the pole instead.

  The best choice, but not the one I ended up making.

  “Do you even know what you are doing with that?”

  I flinched and whirled to find Priscilla sneering. She was watching me awkwardly clutch the sword handle while Darren and the rest of his following stood only a couple feet away.

  She had picked the wrong day to bully me.

  “Don't you tire of playing the witch?” I shot back.

  One of the two husky brothers snickered, and I was almost certain I saw Darren smile.

  Priscilla, however, was less than amused.

  “Go on all you like, lowborn. It will not save you from your pathetic casting. The only good use for that sword is if it ends your own paltry existence.”

  Ouch.

  “Oh no,” I countered, “is someone jealous because Sir Piers told you to worry about me?”

  “The only thing I worry about is being stuck in the same quarters as a common whore.”

  “What are you talking about?” Now I was just confused.

  Priscilla looked me up and down. “Tell me where you sneak off to every night. Explain why Sir Piers suddenly started to take an interest in the same halfwit he was so keen on condemning a week ago? Seems to me you must have found a way to earn his praise through your skirts—”

  All I saw was red. I felt that same rage from the night before crackling and sputtering its way to the surface. “I would never!”

  “Then tell me where you go,” she countered. There was a malicious smile on her lips, and it took all my self-control to stop from lunging.

  Behind her, the rest of our audience had fallen silent.

  “Unless you've got something to hide, of course.”

  I loosened my grip on the sword's hilt and cast a glance at Darren. The prince didn’t appear the least bit interested in defending me. Apparently, he was perfectly content to let Priscilla think the worst of me, to keep from sullying his reputation.

  We'll see about that.

  “You can say what you like, Priscilla.” My eyes were locked on Darren as I spoke. “But before you go around soiling my name, you might go and ask your precious prince where it is he goes each night as well.”

  Priscilla blanched and immediately turned on Darren. “What did she mean by that?”

  Darren kept his face perfectly still. “That lowborn doesn't know what she's saying.”

  “Then why did she—”

  “Because she has nothing better to do.” Darren glanced at me, dark eyes flashing. “The girl is trying to upset you, and you are letting her.”

  I folded my arms. “He’s lying to your face.”

  Darren glared, and I ignored him.

  Priscilla glanced from me to Darren and back again, unsure whom to believe: the girl she hated or the prince. “Well, I should t
ell the constable she's sneaking out.”

  “No!” both Darren and I shouted at the same time.

  “What I mean,” Darren amended quickly, “is that you shouldn't waste your time on someone as insignificant as her.” His eyes dared me to disagree.

  I reluctantly kept silent, knowing better than to say anything foolish again. Topping Darren would mean nothing if it got me kicked out of the Academy.

  “Come, let's practice closer to the field,” Darren took the highborn by the arm, leading her away.

  As soon as his following left, I took a deep breath.

  “What was that about?”

  I glanced up and found Ella walking toward me.

  “How much did you see?”

  “Enough.” She picked up the sword I’d dropped and snatched a second sword for herself. “It seems I'm not the only one who has a bone to pick with the prince. I was just coming down to check on you when I saw your little chat. Sword?”

  I shook my head at the offered hilt. “I don't know how to hold it.”

  “Well, it's a good thing I’m staying.”

  “Are you done with the assignments already?”

  Ella shrugged. “No… but I figured you needed a friend.” She gave me a kind smile. “This week is only Restoration. I'll manage until Combat.”

  AN HOUR LATER, Ella and I made our way back to the library for the last leg of study.

  “The prince must really dislike you,” she said as we turned the steps of the corridor. “He usually goes out of his way to ignore people.”

  I laughed loudly. “I’m special.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I think my very existence offends him.” That, and my lack of dedication to my magic, whatever that meant. Also my presence in the library, but for some reason I couldn’t admit it. She might get the wrong idea.

  “You’ve made a nice enemy of Priscilla too.” Ella cocked her head to one side. “If I were you, I'd avoid them both.”

  I sighed uncomfortably. “Believe me, I’m trying.”

  Ella had a strange look in her eyes.

  “Just be careful,” she mumbled. “When people like them notice you, that's when you should be worried.”