All castings fell short of the target.
As soon as the arrows hit the ground, I let them dissipate, dissolving into empty air. I took a deep breath as I prepared for another casting. This time I wouldn’t rush my casting.
“Don’t let him get to you, Ry.”
I shot Lynn a grateful smile and then returned to the task at hand. I’d let the pain in my arm—and Master Byron—detract me from my focus.
This time I wouldn’t be so careless.
I focused on building the length of the arrows and the long elm bowstave in my head. I imagined the horrible, heaving tension from drawing eighty pounds of force against my side.
Then I let the shafts fly, soaring toward the wreath with as much force as I could project.
Halfway into the arrows’ flight, I was already building my next projection, concentrating on the mental image with everything I had.
The ground quaked beneath my feet; I dug into it with the heels of my boots, holding my stance and casting steady as I released another set of arrows on my target. Master Byron was testing us, seeing if we could hold focus in a chariot’s bumpy floor.
My second and third castings met my target with success, each time at least one of the three arrows hit a wreath.
I kept going. Thirty minutes flew by before I realized it. My luck continued as at least half of my castings met with success, and the others were not far off.
After five more minutes, my stomach turned. Something was churning in my gut as thick perspiration broke out across my skin. I was clammy and nauseous all at once.
My projection flickered in and out in a familiar warning that had nothing to do with the stifling heat.
I called off my magic and dipped my head between my knees as I waited for the dizziness to pass. I’d reached my magic’s limits—stamina—for the day.
After a couple minutes, the sensation subsided and I was able to stand.
I straightened, taking in the rest of the class.
With a small flash of pride, I saw that Priscilla, Ella, a third-year named Bryce, and Ray—the lowborn I’d lost to in the previous year’s trials—had already quit. Lynn looked like she was about to follow suit, and Darren and Eve were little better. The older apprentices were fading equally fast… though, to be fair, some had been casting with harder artillery than arrows.
During my trial year at the Academy, the Combat master had always urged us to cast until we had nothing left to give. It was the fastest way to build our magic’s stamina, but it had always had an unpleasant aftereffect, and more often than not it left us sick, or unconscious.
Now that we were apprentices, our training had changed. After midwinter, we would be actively serving with the local regiment for five months in desert patrols. All of our drills were preparing us for actual combat. Stamina was no longer as important as survival.
No one’s power was infinite. The closer we were to our stamina’s limits, the slower our magic progressed. Even then, most mages’ potential stopped building by the time adolescence was over. A couple might continue on into their early-twenties, but that wasn’t the norm. I’d be lucky to reach thirty before my stamina started to decline, even if I kept up a daily routine. It was the main reason our Candidacy took place so often: we needed the strongest Council of Magic possible, even if that meant changing our Colored Robes every twenty years.
“You are preparing yourself for a true-to-life battle,” Byron had declared on our first day of the apprenticeship. “If you are approaching your limits, you need to turn back and call off your magic. The only time that I ever want to see you fainting is if you are at no risk of danger, or the casting’s outcome is worth your life.”
In other words, don’t do what I did during the first-year trials.
The rest of the class finished minutes later. As soon as they had, Master Byron launched himself into a full-blown speech, praising the prince and insulting the rest of us at the same time. It always ended the same way.
The master occasionally gave Priscilla good remarks, but I was certain they were only for the prince’s benefit. Byron didn’t even pretend with the rest of us.
“And, Ryiah, stay focused next time. I will not let that arm be an excuse for your casting to suffer.”
Today had been my best casting yet. I’d hit the target more times than most of the second-years, and only that one attempt had failed to reach the fence… But, as usual, the master had failed to notice anything other than my faults.
I let the anger slide off me—albeit very slowly—and started my retreat to the dining commons. Our training took place a mile from the main building that housed our barracks and the rest of the amenities. Normally I resented the long walk after a full day of practice, but today I was happy to have some time to clear my head.
My apprenticeship is more important than strangling Master Byron. I repeated the motto over and over again. If I said it enough times, it was supposed to help, but so far there had been no such luck. Each time it was getting harder and harder to ignore his barbs. I’d lost my temper a couple of times during our first month, and now almost three months into our training, the tyrant was still punishing me for it.
“Oops, so sorry.” There was a horrible jolt as someone barreled into my arm.
One guess as to the offender. Priscilla.
“You did that on purpose!” My pain was making me see all sorts of crazy colors, and I no longer cared if the master had rules about casting during hours between lessons. The girl needed to be put in her place. I was done with her antagonistic whims.
It was time to fight back.
“You can’t prove it.”
I was frothing at the mouth. “Prove it? I don’t need to prove it. I’ll—”
The prince’s hand closed around my good arm before I could land a punch. His voice was stern. “Stop.”
“Stay out of it!” I tried to jerk away, but the prince’s grip was iron. I couldn’t move. “Darren, let me go.”
“Why are you stopping her?” Priscilla’s reaction was enough to momentarily detract from my rage, even if the prince was stopping me from giving her the lesson she deserved.
“Do you want a broken arm like hers?”
“She can’t beat me,” Priscilla scoffed.
Darren chuckled. “Ryiah’s not as bad as you think.”
I had the pleasure of seeing the raven-haired beauty turn an unattractive shade of red. “What is wrong with you? I’m your betrothed.”
“Priscilla.” Darren’s patience grew thin. “She’s a friend. We’ve been over this.”
The girl let out a frustrated huff and stormed off.
I swallowed, my mouth dry as the crowd parted around us. “Thanks for that.”
“It was nothing.”
My eyes were still glued to his hand on my wrist. My skin was tingling, and it wasn’t because it hurt. It was bringing back memories of a certain night…
Memories I needed to ignore. They meant nothing.
I tugged my wrist, and the prince dropped it like it was on fire.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
“I-it’s fine.” Why was I stammering? I forced myself to raise my chin and tried a teasing lilt instead. “So, we’re friends?”
“I told you we were.” He was smiling, and for once it met his eyes.
I sucked in a breath.
The prince was the kind of beautiful that hurt. Dark and tragic, hard lines and crimson eyes, with a crooked curve of his lips that was doing odd things to my insides. Boys shouldn’t be able to look like that.
“And here I thought you were the villain to my tale.”
“Even villains have a little fun.” His eyes hadn’t left my face. “But I’m not your villain, love.”
Love? My cheeks burned, and I wasn’t even sure Darren realized what he’d said. It meant nothing. It was just an expression people said.
“Ry, are you all right?” Ella pushed her way forward with Ian and Loren close behind.
“
I’ll be fine.” I gave a weak laugh and brandished my broken arm. It ached something fierce, but I knew Master Byron would never let a Restoration mage touch it.
“I bet your brother can take a look.”
“Really, I don’t need—”
“You’re so stubborn.” Ian wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steer me away, ignoring the prince. “Come on, Ry. Alex doesn’t have to fix it, but he can do something for the pain.”
Darren’s eyes caught on mine as my friends urged me forward. I expected him to make a sarcastic remark about how “pain makes a mage.”
“Ask your brother about arnica.”
Huh?
The prince disappeared into the crowd, and I was still staring as Ian dragged me away.
Since when does Darren care if I’m hurt?
ALEX WAS PEELING a mango when we found him in the commons. He seemed surprised to see all of us, especially Ella, but he recovered quickly.
“Arnica, huh?”
“Do you know what that is?”
“Of course.” His eyes met mine in mild amusement. “I’m just surprised the prince even knew to suggest it. It’s not a common ingredient.”
Ian turned to my brother. “Well? Can you get it?”
“I can... But I’ll need help.” Alex’s gaze fell straight to Ella standing next to us. She hadn’t said one word since we arrived. “The healers keep all their supplies locked away in the main wing. I need a couple of you to distract them while I get the salve. Now would be our best chance, while Master Joan is at dinner.”
Ella didn’t look at my brother as she said, “Then let’s go.” She turned to her mentor. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Loren smirked. “And miss all the fun?”
A flash of irritation flared in Alex’s eyes, but he said nothing.
The five of us began the trek to the infirmary. Ella, Ian, and Loren spent most of the time in animated conversation while my brother and I walked in awkward silence. Alex kept stealing jealous glances at Ella and Loren in the front of our group, and I had to kick him to finally get him to quit.
“Ouch!”
“Stop glaring at Loren!”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
My brother ignored me completely. “Are things serious between those two?”
“They aren’t courting, if that’s your question.” My voice was terse.
“Yet.” He kicked at a rock in the sand and groaned. “You have to get me alone with her, Ry. Tell her to go with me when I get the arnica.”
“Why?” The last time the two had been in the same room together, Ella had walked in on him kissing a Restoration apprentice. That had been a month ago when they’d still been courting. My friend had told me all about it afterward, sobbing in the barracks and swearing she would never talk to my brother again. She had kept her word, and I never urged her to try.
It wasn’t the first time my brother had done this. In Demsh’aa, there was a mile-long list of the hearts he’d left broken in his wake. The difference was that this time my brother seemed to regret it.
He’d never come to me on his knees for one of my friends until her. But it was too late. Ella didn’t do second chances, and I wasn’t about to lose my best friend to one of my brother’s whims.
“Because I made a mistake!”
“You kissed another girl. It’s a betrayal.”
“I know.” His blue eyes bore into mine, and I saw painful regret. His voice was hoarse. “I’ll never ask you again. Please, Ry, I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve never… I miss her.”
He’d been moping every time we’d crossed paths, blast him.
I growled. “If you make her cry, I will never help you again, Alex. Ever.”
Alex’s face lit up so much that I cringed.
He better not mess this up.
Ten minutes later, we arrived at the infirmary, no worse for wear. Except my arm, the pain had gotten worse.
The five of us entered the building, nodding to the guards as we passed. Three soldiers whistled, and Ian nudged Ella’s and my ribs.
“I think you’ve got admirers, ladies.”
I rolled my eyes. “They are probably admiring this bandage.”
“Then I admire that bandage a lot.”
My eyes shot to Ian’s, startled. He was grinning back at me, and I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not.
Alex coughed loudly.
I broke Ian’s gaze and pulled Ella to the side. “I think you should go with Alex. We need my injury to distract them.”
Ella shifted, uncomfortable. “Does it have to be me? What about Ian? Or Loren?”
“Just talk to him.” She trusted me. I hoped I wouldn’t regret asking.
“Is this because you want alone time with Ian?”
What? “No!”
Ella fixed me with a skeptical brow. “I’m doing this for you, Ryiah.”
If I continued to deny it, would she change her mind? I decided to drop the protest. “Thank you.”
Loren, Ian, and I crowded the infirmary’s desk as soon as we turned the corner. The three of us started arguing loudly with the healer in charge while Alex and Ella snuck past the attendants into the supply room. I kept my eyes open for any passing healers while Ian and Loren continued to point at my arm.
Ten minutes passed, and then Alex and Ella reemerged, proudly concealing a small jar in Alex’s fist. My friend looked happier. I wondered if they’d had a good talk.
Ella’s eyes caught mine, and she gave a timid smile. I started to return it, and then my face fell as a young woman in a red mage’s robes blocked their escape, fixing the two with a steely-eyed frown.
“Apprentice Alex, do you have an authorization for that?” The jar and their guilty expressions hadn’t escaped her notice.
The mages behind us were too busy with Ian and Loren to hear.
My brother sauntered over to the healer with an easy stride. “It’s just a bit of salve. My sister broke her arm.”
Kyra’s frown deepened. “You know the rules, Alex.”
“It could be our little secret.” My brother leaned in close and gave the girl a rakish smile. “Don’t you want to keep a secret for me, Kyra?”
The mage’s cheeks turned pink. “Stop that.” But I noticed she said it with a lot less force.
“You know you really shouldn’t hide eyes like yours behind those bangs.” My brother brushed a strand behind her ear. “People might not see how beautiful they really are.”
The girl swatted his hand away with a giggle. “Just this once, Alex.”
“You are a goddess among men.” Alex caught her hand and kissed it lightly, winking.
“You should join the healers for a drink one night,” she stammered. “We go to the Crow’s Nest every Sunday. Will I see you next time?”
Alex grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
As soon as the girl vanished, Ella snatched the vial from my brother and turned to me, eyes flashing. “Let’s get out of here.” It didn’t take much to ascertain her mood.
“Ella, wait, it wasn’t what you—I was helping Ryiah!”
“I don’t want to hear it, Alex.”
“But I—”
“You just can’t help yourself!” Ella cut my brother off with a cold laugh. “It’s not your fault—when this girl kisses you or that girl misinterprets your flirting you’re blameless. Well, I’m not going to wait for it to happen again. We are done.” She grabbed my good arm and dragged me out of the building, not waiting to see if the rest of our group followed.
I didn’t protest. As soon as we were outside the infirmary, I started to apologize. “Ella, I didn’t—”
“It’s not your fault. You warned me that first day at the Academy. I… I just have this bad habit of falling for the wrong ones.”
Thinking about Darren earlier and my reaction to his hand on my wrist, I said sadly, “I think we have that
in common.”
And like her, I was determined to stay far, far away.
AFTER A SHORT DINNER, we were once again on the practice field for our final lesson of the day. We were separated into two groups: those who could cast using pain, and those that couldn’t. Ian, Darren, Eve, Lynn, and I stayed behind with a small collection of older apprentices. Ella, Ray, Priscilla, Loren, and the rest of our faction retired to the far side of the grounds to continue the target casting from earlier.
Now more than ever, I was grateful for the arnica. I was finding it much easier to control my castings when the pain in my arm wasn’t fighting my magic.
“No, no, slowly, Ian!” Master Byron’s command echoed across the chilly grounds. “If you keep that up, you are not going to be able to control the casting.”
“Again.” Darren’s voice was thick with sarcasm. The two of them had been trading barbs for the past hour—mostly because Ian kept losing control of his castings. We were supposed to levitate our partners, but Ian hadn’t quite mastered the correct pressure to use.
The prince had been tossed into the sand more times than the rest of our group combined.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sympathize. Ian was miserable at pain casting.
“Mentees, you are up.”
Lynn slowly withdrew the blade from her hand, letting me drift gently to the floor. To my left I heard a loud thump and Darren’s subsequent curse.
“Master Bryon, I need to change partners for this exercise. This is ludicrous.”
All heads turned to Ian and Darren; the former looked sheepish and the latter, furious.
“Fine. Darren, Ryiah, trade mentors.”
I scowled at the prince as we traded spots. “I have a fracture.” His little spat just cost me my arm. If Ian drops me…
“Good thing you have the arnica.”
Some “friend.” I sat down cross-legged in front of Ian, returning to the start position as I reached for a knife. At least it was my turn.
“All right, mentees, this time in your castings I want you to focus on time. Try to hold your partner in the air for as long as you can. Once you feel comfortable, try alternating the pressure and keeping the same two-yards level. Being able to maintain a stable pain casting, no matter the pressure, will help train your magic should you be caught off guard with an unexpected injury.” The man paused, his ice blue eyes locking onto me. “Some of you could certainly use the practice.”
The Black Mage: Complete Series Page 27