The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  So this is his family.

  I knew I needed to stop staring, but I couldn’t. There was something about the three of them together that made me wonder what it had been like for the youngest before the Academy. Their air was stifling and cold.

  Prince Blayne shifted on the stair and caught sight of the crowd of us staring. His lip curved up at the side as his gaze locked on Ella.

  “He’s looking at us,” Derrick whispered, awed.

  But awe was the last thing on my mind. My friend had tensed at my side, and apprehension crawled up the back of my spine. Not even her parents knew the reason she’d insisted on leaving the palace years before.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I tugged Ella forward as Prince Blayne leaned into his brother to whisper something in his ear.

  A second later, Darren was turning and frowning over at Ella. His eyes caught on mine, and that frown turned into a glare.

  “What was that?” Derrick must have noticed the look that passed as we exited the hall.

  I finished guiding our families to the front of the Academy. “It's complicated.”

  We said our farewells to our families at the entrance and promised to catch up the next day during the breaks of the tourney. Our parents got along enough to share a dinner in a nearby pub, and a part of me was proud to see how easy a friendship could be. The Academy was a trial in every sense, and I was grateful to Ella to have one thing that was steady and easy in the chaos of everything else.

  Alex, Ella, and I headed back down the corridor in the direction of our barracks. We’d only just crossed the atrium when we found ourselves face to face with the crown prince. While I couldn't be sure, I had the distinct impression he’d been waiting. A second later, my thoughts were confirmed when Prince Blayne stepped out directly in front of us, cutting off our exit.

  “Lady Ella—” Blayne ignored my brother and me. “—it's been too long.” He reached out and snatched my friend's hand.

  Ella instantly paled, and I could see fear written all over her face.

  She was usually so outspoken, but now she was as silent as a rock.

  I took Ella's other arm, seeing as how Blayne still hadn't let go of her first.

  “Let's return to the barracks,” I said loudly. I didn’t bother to acknowledge the prince—and tugged at my friend's arm. “We need to get back.”

  The crown prince sneered at me. “Ella will leave when she's ready.” His grip hadn't lessened, and I could see white marks on her arm.

  Alex put himself directly in front of the prince. “Let her go.”

  My brother was probably confused by the strange encounter, but even he could see something was wrong. I instantly forgave Alex for all his previous transgressions.

  “Get out of my way, lowborn,” the prince snarled. “This is none of your concern.”

  Alex opened his mouth to reply with some chosen words—and I right there alongside him—when Darren appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Let them be.”

  “Darren—”

  “Blayne.”

  The two princes glowered at one another before the elder finally dropped his brother’s stare. A second later, Blayne dropped Ella’s arm.

  “We will catch up some other time, my sweet,” he promised.

  My fist was clenched as the crown prince sauntered down the hall without another word. If he tried anything with Ella—

  Darren turned on us and fixated his anger at me. “Get out of here,” he snapped. “Why are you still standing there?”

  I bristled. “You don’t have to—”

  “Come on, Ry.” Alex’s fingers dug into my wrist. Even he knew better than to antagonize two princes; I just saw red wherever the non-heir was concerned.

  And just like that, we were gone. There was no point in sticking around.

  You pick a fight with Darren now, you’ll find yourself hanged for attacking a prince. I sighed. The king is here. Do you really want to throw away everything for him?

  I didn’t.

  Ella turned to me as soon as we had entered the barracks and my brother was gone. “Thank you, Ry.” She had refused to discuss Blayne in front of Alex, and as far as he knew, the prince was like that with all highborns. He’d been especially upset for her; it had been almost sweet. “I… I don’t know why I…”

  I put my hand on her shoulder; she didn’t have to explain. “I won't let him come near you again, I promise.”

  Her smile was timid. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend, Ry.”

  “I think you and I would have found each other, one way or another,” I said, grinning. “How else would we have survived a full year of Piers and Narhari?”

  She laughed, and the two of us relaxed into a comfortable silence.

  “That was nice of your brother, too.” Her words were timid. It was the first time I’d ever heard her sound somewhat nervous. “Alex… he really cares about his friends, doesn’t he?”

  I sighed, not sure I wanted to encourage my friend, or my brother. Things were complicated enough as it was. “You’re my best friend, a sister he wants to protect.” I was such a liar for letting her down, but I couldn’t bear the thought of Alex breaking her heart.

  “Oh.” She sounded crestfallen, and a part of me flinched. I was a terrible friend.

  Ella finally managed a tight smile. “Did you see Ruth earlier? Poor thing, I don't think she'll be sleeping at all tonight.”

  Thank the gods Combat doesn't go first. A small part of me wondered if it’d be better just to get our trials over with sooner, not that we had any choice in the matter.

  “Our turn will come soon enough,” I finally grumbled.

  “We made it this far.” Ella faced me from her bunk, black curls tumbling from her face. “We’ll make it to the end, Ry.”

  I prayed she was right.

  14

  Parents arrived early the next morning, looking better rested than any of their children. Since the first four hours of the Alchemy trials were not for public viewing, my family and Ella’s took a tour of the village instead. Most visiting families did the same, and this time, Alex and I were able to tell our parents and Derrick a bit more about our experiences at the Academy. When we returned to the school around noon, a quarter of the nobility, including the Crown, was noticeably absent.

  A servant tending to the afternoon meal was the one to offer up an explanation to the rest of us. Apparently, the first half of the Alchemy trials actually was viewable—for a price.

  Usually first-year trials were held in the stadium to accommodate a larger audience, but for the brewing stages of Alchemy, students needed certain accommodations. As a result, seating in the upstairs laboratory was awarded to the highest bidders. Nobility paid handsomely for the experience; it usually helped them win wagers in the second half of the Alchemy trials.

  In a little over an hour, the rest of the school was gathered at the raised seating bordering the Academy stadium. I’d always wondered why there were so many stairs; now I knew.

  As we settled into our seats, I noted the rest of the school was there as well. No first-year wanted to miss the trials, even if we were better off studying for our own. There wasn’t one face missing from the crowd. Watching the culmination of everyone’s struggle was the highlight of our year. We were terrified and fascinated in the same breath.

  The crowd drew silent, and I glanced across the field. Master Tera and the twelve students of Alchemy had arrived. Each first-year carried a small wooden crate filled with flasks of differing colors and sizes. Some liquids were translucent and bubbling. Others were thick and pasty.

  I spotted Ruth near the end of the row. She looked as pale as a ghost with trembling hands and bloodshot eyes. Not a one of her factionmates looked any better. A couple even looked sick.

  Master Barclae addressed the audience from his bench with the judges. “Welcome to the Alchemy trials. We will now see the application of the potions our first-years brewed during the first half of the day.
”

  The audience broke into cheers. A couple highborns screamed their wagers and waved gold coins in their fists, spitting on them for luck.

  Do they even realize how hard we fought to be here today? Whether any of us won an apprenticeship or not, the forty-three students left had beaten incredible odds. We had carried on at all costs. A wager was a cruel way to measure that sacrifice.

  Barclae continued. “Our students brewed potions this morning, and now the judges and I will evaluate each first-year's draught, apply the necessary remedies, and then continue on to the next. No scores or remarks will be given aloud for any of the trials. Only on the seventh day will our victors be made public during the official naming ceremony.”

  The judges shifted along the bench, quills at the ready with rolls of parchment in a small table in front.

  Master Tera cleared her throat from across the way. “Paralysis.” Her voice boomed and crackled across the stadium.

  Twelve nervous first-years reached down into the crates they had carried in and pulled out a small vial no bigger than my fist.

  How are they going to measure paralysis?

  A second later, my question was answered as the first student uncorked the vial and took a quick swig, wiping his mouth with his wrist.

  The rest of the row followed.

  “Gods,” I whispered. No one had told me the first-years used the concoctions on themselves.

  I wondered if they wanted their results to be the most effective, or the least. Either way, they lost.

  Minutes ticked by. The faction stood underneath a cloudless sky, sweat beading along their brows as they waited for the potions to take effect.

  Nothing happened at first, but then some of the audience began to murmur amongst themselves.

  A loud thud sounded. And then another. And another. Slowly, in the course of five minutes, each first-year of Alchemy dropped to the grass, shaking spastically, almost uncontrollably, while their eyes rolled to the back of their heads.

  I watched in horror as twelve bodies continued to twitch, and then I held my breath as the spasms stopped completely.

  Twelve motionless bodies were sprawled out across the field.

  Paralysis complete.

  Excitement rose in the audience. The first two rows began to point and shout, confirming their bets.

  Ten minutes later, a first-year began to shake violently in place. The boy coughed, and then his tremors abruptly ceased.

  Slowly, he rose. Tears came silently as he took in the immobile first-years around him.

  Two nobles in the second row violently tossed their wine skins to the ground; their candidate had lost.

  The boy had placed last in the first round of the Alchemy trials. His potion was clearly the weakest of the bunch.

  Five more students rose unhappily within a ten-minute span.

  After a half-hour, the judges came forward to examine the remaining young men and women. Ruth was one of the six who had stayed in the effects of her potion's enchantment.

  Barclae raised a hand to motion the first test was complete.

  The Green Mage, leader of Alchemy, tipped a small flask of purple liquid down the throats of the four nearest first-years. The Red Mage, leader of Restoration, knelt down to touch the throats of the two remaining students.

  In seconds, the faction was cured.

  Immediately, the four students who had been cured by potion sat up coughing and spewing blood and the remnants of their brews. The two first-years cured by touch began to tremble, vomiting and pouring sweat as their body emptied itself of poisonous toxin.

  Ruth took the longest to stand. Some of the audience was whispering excitedly, and I wondered if my friend had won. Maybe she had, but without the judges' commentary, seven more rounds, and then the oral exams later on, I had no way of knowing whether Ruth would be one of the five to earn an apprenticeship. Only time would tell.

  I hoped she would.

  The Alchemy trials continued for the next three and a half hours. There were two more self-inflicted draughts, one for aging and another for sleep. The aging potion's effects were unnerving to watch: twelve first-years took on sagging skin and hair loss, taut arms became feeble and weak, and everyone sunk into their bones.

  The sleeping draught was uneventful. All I heard were snores. The peaceful look on the participants' faces left many in the audience yawning for the half-hour we watched.

  The last five concoctions were intended for battle: liquid fire, a coating to fortify metal—they were given blades for that demonstration—toxic sludge, exploding earth, and choking gas. The judges stood close by to rectify the results as first-years occasionally collapsed from their own doing.

  At times, it was hard to watch the students throw down their bottles, knowing that something dreadful awaited them once the fumes released. The only casting I was left with questions after was the oil they had used to reinforce their swords. The judges had collected the weaponry for further examination later on, and there was no way to judge on appearance.

  Overall, most of the students did very well. Ruth had stood out in five of the eight tests. I wondered how she was feeling.

  Master Tera came forward to escort the twelve first-years off the field. The class had looked terrible when they started, but now after the completion of their first trial, they looked like walking death. It left a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  I wondered how I would feel in two days when it was my turn instead.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, I watched the nine remaining first-years of Restoration live out eight hours that were, if possible, worse than the previous day’s trial. Alex, James, and the others had drawn from the same marble statuettes that Ella and I would be using to decide the pairings for our faction's trial. The first-year that did not have a matching figurine was given Master Cedric as a partner.

  Restoration's trial was a healing demonstration of sorts. Students took turns healing one another of projected ailments inflicted by Master Cedric.

  It was all I could do not to cringe.

  Alex cured difficult maladies, ranging from swelling to deep, gushing wounds that were impossible to watch. He stumbled a bit during the healing of black frost burn, and his session ended with his performance on par with the three pairs of students who had come before.

  His partner, a quiet boy with black braids and a hard jaw, proved to be my brother's undoing. Alex had been good, but the boy was better—much better. The boy's turn had barely begun, and within twenty minutes, Alex suffered severe cuts, blackening frostbite, intense burns, a concussion, and a heightened state of paralysis. His partner continued to cure as fast as the ailments were cast by the judges. The dark-haired boy never faltered, and he was cut off at the end of his forty-five minutes without so much as a blunder the entire act.

  Alex’s partner was as out of breath and exhausted as the others, but he had also doubled the outcome of everyone else's casting in the allotted time.

  Half the audience stood after the boy finished, roaring his name, over and over. “Ronan. Ronan. Ronan.”

  Poor Alex looked miserable beside the new champion of Restoration. Unlike Alchemy, it was easy to spot the winning apprentice.

  Still, Alex was lucky. He had a one in two chance that he would make his faction's cut of five.

  The final pair to present was James and Master Cedric. Sadly, Ella's shy admirer did not fare so well. While he clearly tried, James could not cure beyond the fourth ailment. It was a surprise the boy had lasted as long as he had.

  The Restoration trials ended. Master Cedric escorted the faction off the field, and Alex gave a weak wave of his hand as they passed.

  Derrick turned in his seat after our brother had left. “Tomorrow is you, right?”

  “Yes.” My stomach curdled at the prospect. I felt faint just thinking about it. Suddenly the stadium looked five times as large.

  “Combat duels?”

  I nodded.

  “You’ll win.”

&nb
sp; If only.

  Ella and I bid farewell to our families shortly after, and when we returned to our barracks, we both glanced at each other wordlessly.

  We had done everything we could to prepare ourselves for what lie ahead. It was a hard truth to admit, but there was nothing more we could do.

  “Good luck, Ryiah.” Ella’s eyes were unusually bright.

  I swallowed. “You too.”

  “It'll all be over soon.”

  Not soon enough. I spent a listless night wondering who my opponent would be.

  Ella? Darren? Priscilla? Someone else?

  I never slept.

  ALL TWENTY-TWO OF us stood in the grand atrium of the Academy. Each of us held a small marble figurine that decided our fate. Master Barclae and the Three Colored Robes were explaining each statuette’s order in the tourney. We made eleven pairs.

  I glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else had gotten any sleep. All of our families, the king and his visiting court, and even the realm's mages were waiting outside to watch us duel for the chance at an apprenticeship.

  In the palm of my hand was the tiny carving of a red fox.

  Master Barclae called each token's name forward, starting with the rabbit and ending with the wolf. Ella and Jake were to duel first, having each selected a rabbit. Eve and William were next, the serpent. Ray, the talented lowborn boy from Darren's following, and I had the fox. Next went the fish, the lion, the bird—Priscilla and one of her friends, Jade, a tall girl with blue eyes and endless lashes—the boar, the dog, the buck, the horse, and, finally, the wolf: Darren and Clayton.

  A part of me wanted to laugh. Of course Darren was the wolf, was he ever anything else?

  At least I don’t have to duel my best friend. A part of me could admit I was fortunate in that. I wouldn’t have wanted either of us to be responsible for sending the other home.

  Our faction lined up in pairs and followed Master Narhari down the long corridors and beaten trail that led onto the Academy field to wait our turn. As we took our place at the far end of the grass, Jake and Ella took their designated spots at the center of the field.