The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  Her magic is all that keeps me from plummeting to my death.

  “Do you think you won't feel pain? Do you think you'll be able to tell the difference when every inch of your mind is screaming out for me to stop?” The stranger seethes. “These visions induce madness. You heard your instructor. How many times do you think you can die before you become mad as well? Are you so stubborn that you would rather lose yourself than give up a mage's robes?”

  I remain silent.

  “This is not a choice, Ryiah. Surrender now, or I will kill you. Again and again. You have five seconds.”

  “Please—”

  “One.”

  Why is it so important for me to fail?

  “Two.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Three.”

  “Why—”

  “Four.”

  I can’t do it. Even though I’m going to die, I can’t call out for Piers. I believe the stranger. I believe when she says I’ll feel every moment of it, but I can’t do it.

  “Five.” Her hood falls away, and gray eyes meet mine. It’s the same face I see every day in the mirror. Her lips are twisted and cruel.

  The stranger is me.

  “Five.”

  A rolling boom filled the air, and then I fall into a long tunnel of black.

  Wind whips across my face. My limbs twist and flail as I continue to plummet into the shadowy abyss. I never stop screaming. My flesh is being ripped apart by an angry storm; my stomach is lost in my throat.

  I’m falling, falling, falling.

  I shut my eyes.

  So this is what it feels like to die.

  I pray for it to end, but it never does…

  And then I woke.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

  Startled by the clamor, I opened my eyes. I wasn't falling, dying, or trapped in some bottomless pit. I was sitting on the grass beside my brother, Ella, and nineteen other first-years.

  Across from me, a red-haired boy was shaking violently. Like everyone else, his eyes were clouded.

  He cried out again. “Please, just make it end! I yield!”

  I watched as Tera came forward and Sir Piers held the first-year in place, emptying the contents of a clear vial into the struggling boy's mouth. A moment later, the boy was alert and hunched over the ground, heaving.

  Sir Piers turned to Master Cedric who stood a couple paces away. “Well, that makes number four—five counting that boy at the start. I guess we can administer the antidote to the rest now.”

  Tera and Master Cedric began to make their rounds, slowly bringing each student back to consciousness. Tera was the first to reach me.

  Her eyes widened. “How did you—?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Did you even experience a state of delirium?”

  I nodded and watched as Master Cedric joined her.

  “She woke on her own, fully conscious.” She was still staring at me as she addressed the master. “Her eyes aren't dilated, and she doesn't have any sign of residual effects…”

  “That’s unusual,” the master said softly.

  “But not impossible. It’s happened before.”

  “And you’re sure you gave her the same potion?”

  She nodded.

  Master Cedric studied me as I held my breath. “This one must be stronger than we thought.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You mean to say her magic did this?”

  The master was silent for a moment, then: “Perhaps.”

  9

  The week before we began our chosen factions was the first time off any of us had received since we entered the Academy.

  Of course, it wasn't really free. Now that orientation was over, we were five students down and too anxious to do anything except recalculate our odds. In seven days' time, we would be selecting a faction, a decision that would dictate the remainder of our year. Nothing had driven that home more than that final day of orientation.

  “Do they really think we need a week to choose?” Ella made a face as Alex and I joined her at the table for lunch. It was our second day into the week, and it was obvious all the first-years had already made up their minds.

  “They are probably hoping our fear gets the best of us.” Alex smiled weakly; all of us were less confident than our first day at the Academy. “Can't say they'd be entirely wrong.”

  I squinted at my brother over my second mug of tea. Even though we weren't expected to attend lessons, most of the class, my friends and I included, had continued the normal routine, which meant I was just as tired as any other day at the Academy.

  “Do they really think we will resign after that day in the mountains?” I wanted to laugh. “If I didn't do it then, I’m not going to now.”

  “Hmm, but not all of us have your potential.”

  “Keep it down.” I didn’t want anyone outside of our group to hear. “My stamina is still less than most.”

  “For now.”

  “But what if it doesn’t change? What if Master Cedric was wrong? Then it’s just a painted target on my back, and we already know two of the Academy’s favorite prodigies hate me.”

  Alex didn’t deny it. Neither did Ella. All of us were brimming with too much nervous energy.

  By the end of the week, seven more students had left. I would’ve thought that after two months of hard work and resilience, self-resolve would be contagious. But a week of reflection had taken its toll. Several young men and women weighed the price of a robe against their family, friends, and a comfortable career following the family trade. For some, magic lost.

  I hurried to the atrium where the rest of our class was waiting. Today was not only the day we would be electing our factions, but also the return of the second through fifth-year apprentices and their faction leaders. We’d seen several new faces in passing, and the possibility of an introduction was too tempting to ignore. I had so many questions, and an apprentice would know firsthand how arduous year one could be, and maybe, just maybe, they could offer some advice.

  Or so I thought.

  “Today I have exciting news.” Master Barclae marched into the ballroom with glee. “In two months' time, we have gotten rid of some of the dead weight that has been holding the rest of you back. As of this evening, two more first-years have decided to pursue opportunities outside of our school, bringing the total of deserters to fourteen.”

  I looked around the room, as did several others. All of us were silently hoping the two were part of the competition, but it was impossible to identify the missing faces from the crowd. There were still too many of us.

  “I am happy to say Sir Piers and Master Cedric have not disappointed me in their latest endeavor—”

  Piers let out a boisterous hoot and toasted the master of the Academy.

  “—and I hope they continue to pull even larger numbers in the months that follow.”

  I swallowed nervously and glanced at Alex and Ella. They had the same uneasy expressions.

  “I understand the majority of you were under the impression that I would be introducing you to the apprentice mages and their instructors today. I will be doing no such thing. You are worthless until you pass your trial year.”

  Any hope I had deflated in the pit of my stomach. I should have known. It was the reason they kept the apprentices sequestered to the eastern wing of the second and third-floor of the Academy.

  “You are not to disturb them. They will only be here until the solstice, and then they will be setting back out to continue their training in the field. While they are here, they are not to be engaged. The apprentices are the future of our kingdom, and I will not have it squandered by overzealous first-years.”

  Master Barclae paused and then chuckled. “On a more positive note, I do have the pleasure of introducing the three masters who will be your faction leaders for the remainder of the year… Masters Cedric, Tera, and Narhari, please come join me at the front.” Our current training master, the eccentric Alchemy assistan
t mage, and a tall, foreboding man of Eastern descent stepped forward to stand beside the master of the Academy.

  A part of me wanted to whistle. The new master was… well, I could see why Ella preferred older men if they all looked like him.

  “Masters Eloise and Isaac will continue to lead your sessions on magical theory, but your new faction will dictate what time of the day you report to the library to do so. The same with Sir Piers and physical conditioning.”

  Alex stifled a quiet groan. I knew my brother had been hoping orientation would be the end of those drills.

  “Master Cedric here will be leading the magical application portion of your studies for Restoration. Due to a recent resignation, Tera has been promoted to Master leading the section on Alchemy. And, last but certainly not least, Master Narhari, is our returning master for Combat.”

  The master of the Academy gave a broad wave of his hand. “Make sure to report to the constable before curfew with the name of your chosen faction—without it, your time here will be considered a resignation.”

  I didn’t even hesitate. I was already walking toward the hall. Combat or nothing. I hoped it was something I wouldn’t regret.

  “ARE you ready for the biggest mistake of your life?” Ella nudged me as we trudged up the training hill for our first session with Master Narhari. There were already rumors going around that the master of Combat sent first-years packing faster than Sir Piers and Master Cedric combined.

  My reply was braver than I felt. “It’s the only mistake worth making.”

  “I hope you still feel that way when practice is over.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but the words got lost in my throat. Ella followed my gaze, and her jaw dropped.

  “By the gods,” she breathed.

  Master Narhari was shirtless. He was as tall as Piers, with well-oiled black hair pulled sleekly back behind his ears, smoldering eyes of amber, bronze skin, and short, rough stubble that lined his upper lip and chin. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five years.

  This was our master of Combat for an entire year, or whatever time we had left.

  Ella and I stood dumbfounded on the side of the field. We weren't alone, more and more girls wandered across the field wearing ravenous expressions like wolves. None of us were about to complain.

  When I finally regained my composure, I made it a point to count the number of students instead of the, errr, number of chiseled muscles in Narhari’s chest.

  Focus, Ryiah.

  There were far less girls than boys, seventeen to the forty or so young men. Most of the first-year girls had chosen Alchemy or Restoration. They'd been under the impression that we were disadvantaged for Combat.

  Much as I hated to say it, Priscilla and Eve had proved exactly how wrong that theory was.

  Master Narhari ordered us to line up with the barest attempt at introduction. He was one who believed in “train first, talk later.”

  If we thought the master would coddle us, we were thoroughly mistaken.

  “This is Combat.” The new master of Combat prowled the field with a scowl. “Try harder.”

  He had us casting at the same barley sacks from orientation.

  After an hour, I had no magic left. My barley sack wasn’t going anywhere. The prince's group was, of course, still going strong, but the rest of the class was faltering.

  “You chose the hardest faction for a reason. Don't tell me you’ve used up your stamina. No one has unless they are face down on the ground. The only way you will build up your magic is if you challenge it. Easy will never be good enough.” Master Narhari bent down to meet the darting eyes of a nervous boy to my right. “Now!”

  The boy fumbled, and the rest of us tried to summon enough magic to make the sacks move.

  Every part of me was in the moment, casting.

  Nothing.

  “Harder!”

  I tried again, visualizing the force I needed to cast and launched the projection with all my might.

  “You are fighting for your life. Is this all you can give me?”

  My arms were shaking, and I was so lightheaded I was seconds from dropping. But I held on, feeling as if I were slipping away in the process.

  A boy to my right fainted.

  I ignored the burning sensation in my lungs and threw the projection of wind with every ounce of energy my body could hold.

  There was a snap, like a string pulled too tight, and then I collapsed.

  A second later, I woke on the ground, cheeks burning. I couldn’t believe I’d lost consciousness… until I saw my sack across the way. It hadn’t moved much, but its contents were spilled and it lay on its side.

  “Take my hand.”

  I pushed off the grass to take Ella’s outspread fingers. But the moment I tried to stand, my knees gave out and I dropped. I gasped and emptied the contents of my lunch just inches from my face.

  Similar sounds were happening all around me, I realized. There were at least ten others on the ground, retching away. Ella touched my shoulder. There were dark lines under her eyes. Her palm shook as she held onto me.

  We were certainly pushing ourselves to our limits. I tried not to think what we looked like to the prodigies still casting with ease.

  “Now you see what it is to try.” Master Narhari didn’t look the least bit surprised at the rest of us. “If you have a problem with my approach, then resign now. You will not last a week in this faction if you aren’t prepared to give your all each and every time.”

  Forty minutes later, we were dismissed. Ella and I could barely stand. It was all we could do to hold onto our staffs as we walked down the long training hill for our evening meal.

  Between the increased workload from Eloise and Isaac, the new weapons drills with Piers, and practices with Narhari, we were miserable.

  It became a daily occurrence.

  After the first month of Combat, it was a daily joke between us that we would “last the day or die trying.” No one talked about a year. We didn’t dare.

  Alex didn't seem to be faring any better in Restoration. According to him, Master Cedric had been holding out on us. Two hours of healing had turned into the stuff of nightmares.

  “He had us animate a corpse the other day,” James piped up. He was in Restoration with Alex. “Never want to see a dead man dance again.”

  Ruth snorted underneath a stack of manuscripts that took up the entire table. “Try Alchemy. Then complain about dead bodies.”

  “Tera can't be worse than Cedric,” Alex countered.

  Ruth shoved the pile of books and parchment toward him. “You try carrying every scroll on herb lore known to man and then recite it for me. Backward.”

  James sniffed. “You have Master Tera. She was one of us a couple years ago.”

  Ruth rolled her eyes. “It just means she has more to prove. You know Cedric is an old softy. You're just afraid to admit you're beat.”

  Alex gave her a flirty grin. “You can trade stitching up animal carcasses with me anytime, sweetling.”

  Ruth made a face and went back to reading her books while Ella and I quizzed Jordan and Clayton about their own experiences in Combat. We never had an opportunity to catch up in class, so we spent most of our meals critiquing each other's performance.

  It wasn't always the easiest conversation, having someone else point out your flaws, but it was a necessary evil if we wanted to improve.

  Better to hear truth, a certain someone had said, than false flattery. I couldn't believe I was actually following his advice, but it’d made too much sense to ignore.

  I had to admit it was helping, though I'd never be able to pinpoint the exact degree of success. I still struggled day to day in each and every drill, but struggle was a regular condition. If I weren't struggling, if I weren't keeled over in agony, if my muscles weren't screaming at the end of a long day… then I wasn't trying hard enough.

  MASTER NARHARI CONTINUED to test our breaking points. At first I’d thought his methods cru
el and unrelenting, but as the weeks wore on, I acknowledged—albeit grumpily—he was just a man who saw the sky as our limit. Narhari expected the world of his students because he expected the same of himself. He wanted us to succeed, even if his definition included shattering our magical boundaries on a daily basis.

  And it was beginning to pay off.

  One month ago, I would have been thrilled to see my magic's stamina outlast the previous week by a couple of minutes or an extra block during my jousts with Ella. Now my castings carried on a half-hour most of the time. My stamina wasn't guaranteed, but even if it failed to increase right away, I was usually able to conjure more powerful castings in the weeks that followed.

  First-years were beginning to slow down, or quit. By the end of the second month in Combat, eleven more had withdrawn from the Academy… Not because they’d run out of will, but because they hadn’t increased their stamina in weeks.

  A part of me pitied them.

  All my life people had stressed the importance of “potential.” It was the amount of magical stamina one was capable of building. We all had a limit. You could have some magic, but did you have enough? Only time would tell which of us did.

  The hype was beginning to make sense.

  The Academy gave me a year. I hoped it would be enough. I'd seen Darren and his close-knit following. Each one of them had yet to slow down. They remained at the top of each session and carried on long after the last of us fell.

  Some of us were still improving, but we were all fearful of how much longer our stamina-building would continue. Sure, I had magic, but eventually I would reach the end of its limits. Would it be in weeks, or years?

  As the third month of Combat commenced, some of the prodigies began to finally slow down, though I was loath to admit neither Priscilla nor Darren were one of them.