The Black Mage: Complete Series

by Rachel E. Carter

  The second Byron released our faction, I took off, not wanting to be there when the man aptly deduced why Darren and I had been the only ones to successfully cast in the day’s lesson. I was sure the man would find yet another chore to throw my way if he found out I’d distracted his precious prodigy.

  I had just readied myself for the evening meal when I heard a loud crash beyond the barrack walls.

  Ella rushed out of the adjoining bathhouse to find me. “What was that?” she gasped. “It sounded like it came from outside.”

  As the two of us stared at one another, there was a loud curse and a subsequent thud. We raced out the barrack doors to find Ian and Darren grappling on the ground just a couple paces away from the wooden building. The prince had a bloodied nose and Ian didn’t look much better, half his tunic was ripped in two and there was a large welt on his shoulder where he had fallen against something hard.

  I dove in and grabbed Darren’s arm just as Ella went to catch Ian. “Stop it!” I shrieked. The prince stopped struggling, but Ella had to drag Ian back hard in order to get him to cease fighting.

  “You just couldn’t stop yourself,” the fourth-year snarled. “You already have everyone in the kingdom eating out of the palm of your hand. You had to take the one thing that was mine!”

  “She was never yours.” I could feel Darren loosening deceptively in my grip, readying for another brawl.

  “Enough!” I jerked the prince back, throwing his balance off as he fell against the barrack wall. “That’s enough!” My whole face flushed. “I didn’t choose you, Darren. I chose myself!”

  The prince’s eyes met mine, and he said the next words slowly. “We should be together, Ryiah. You know this.”

  “I don’t know anything.” I turned heel and headed for the commons. The only way I was ever going to hold strong was if I stayed as far away from the prince as possible.

  “You can’t avoid him forever, Ry.” Ella had caught up with me, panting from the run and looking slightly annoyed. “You need to convince him you’ll never make that mistake again. He thinks there’s still a chance.”

  “I know.” My stomach was tossing and turning, and I felt shame imprinting itself across my face. We’d had the same conversation for days. “I’m just afraid of myself.” If I was alone with him and he tried to kiss me again, would I refuse?

  I needed to run far, far away.

  IT TURNED out that I would get my wish. Master Byron announced that he had a surprise for us over breakfast. A wonderful, rare, important one.

  “Port Langli is not like the other cities we train in. Here most of a mage’s time is spent on patrols. The threat is not so much war as the prospect of pirates and local thieves. Langli is the wealthiest port in Jerar, our main trading post, our most prosperous harbor. I know you have all grown restless because it’s not the fast action you desire. But that’s the way of it.

  “Lucky for you, Commander Chen has recently received orders from the king. Our local regiment is to deploy five of its own tomorrow on a special assignment that will take them out of the city. The commander has graciously offered up one spot on his ship for a Combat apprentice.

  “There is a great probability this will be the only opportunity to serve in a Langli deployment. Missions like this are few and far between. As such, I will be taking a break from your traditional schedule to host a tourney of sorts…”

  I drew a sharp intake of breath and heard the excited whispers around the dais. A tourney. A mission. Deployment. Everyone was restless, eager to do something besides the nightly rotation as sentries. Our time assisting the local regiment had been too quiet, too peaceful. The opposite of what a Combat apprentice trained for.

  “I thought long and hard about what type of competition we should have. I considered weather casting, which is such a relevant skill to have at sea…” The man paused as his eyes fell on me. “But then I thought better of it.”

  I scowled. Of course. The last thing Byron would want was a tourney centered around a skill I was actually good at. He wouldn’t want me to win.

  “I asked myself what might be a vital skill to celebrate. What type of casting do I want to reward?” The master was taking his time, basking in our anticipation and focus. “Then it occurred to me. Non-magic combat. Time after time, I have had you train without magic, because not only does the experience aid in your casting, it also serves you when your magic runs dry. Because no one’s power is infinite, and at some point, you will have to fight without it.”

  There was a scattered murmur of confusion, dissent, and then curiosity.

  Though we spent each morning drilling with weapons and hand-to-hand combat, none of us had bothered to pay our status much heed. I knew my standing in casting: I was better than Priscilla, better than Ray, maybe even better than Ella now. But non-magic fighting? I had never bothered to rank myself.

  And I wasn’t the only one.

  “What type of non-magic combat?”

  Byron frowned at the second-year who asked. “You find out when you arrive. You have ten minutes to finish your meal, and then I expect all of you in the training yard. Don’t worry about which weapon to bring. I will have the servants bring it for you.”

  I WAS one of the first to arrive. After the master’s announcement, I hadn’t been able to concentrate on the food in front of me.

  So now I leaned against the edge of the rail, wondering what the contest would be. Hand-to-hand combat, sickle sword, long sword, longbow, crossbow, axe, knife, javelin, throwing daggers, staff, or something new? It would have to be something we had already learned, surely. And since the prince was Byron’s favorite it would be something Darren was good at.

  But he was good at everything.

  I hoped it was anything but hand-to-hand combat. No matter how hard I trained, my arms remained stubbornly slim, and there were many boys whose arms bore muscle twice the width of my own. If we were forced into a weighted match, I would lose to the heavier opponent. At least with a weapon, I could keep a distance. I was fast, quick.

  Please, I thought, let it be something I am good at.

  “I hope it’s not the crossbow,” I heard Ray mutter to my left.

  “I hope it is the crossbow,” a second-year said. “Or the knife.”

  I wanted the knife too, but I knew better than to hope for it. Byron knew I was good with it. If I knew Byron, he would pick the axe. It was Darren’s favorite.

  It was also, coincidentally, one of my least.

  “Don’t look so sure of yourself, Ryiah,” Priscilla drawled. “You know it’s going to be a fifth-year, not one of us.”

  She had been on a warpath since the night of the ball. For once I didn’t blame her. If I were in her stead, I’d probably be acting the same. Jealousy was a color none of us wore well.

  “It could be a third-year.” Darren had arrived. “I happen to be quite good for my age.” He looked sideways at me. “Better even.”

  There was a flutter in the pit of my stomach. Look away. Now was not the time to be distracted.

  I drew a deep breath, and the corner of Darren’s lip twitched in a telltale smirk. He knew exactly what he was insinuating.

  “Is everyone here?” Commander Chen glanced around and then back to our training master. When Byron nodded, he continued. “Good. Now Byron has been kind enough to let me pick today’s weapon of choice.”

  The breath left my body in a rush. Yes!

  “Since this city’s most common issue is thieves, I thought it best to stick with what my regiment knows best: a street fight with knives.”

  Thank the gods! I wanted to kiss the bald commander’s head. Thank you for giving me a chance!

  A couple of the heavier apprentices groaned.

  “Each one of you will be paired with another student at random. That person may or may not be your year. You will only have one match, and your master and I will judge you according to your performance.” He cleared his throat. “After all the matches have concluded, you wi
ll be dismissed. Byron and I will take four hours to rank you and post the results at dinner.”

  What if my opponent is a fifth-year? Suddenly the odds didn’t look so good anymore.

  I needn’t have worried.

  They were worse.

  “DARREN AND RYIAH.”

  I stood frozen in place. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

  The master frowned and called out again. “Darren and Ryiah, it is your turn for a match.”

  I’m going to lose. I’d never fought Darren, ever—except in the armory during my first year at the Academy, and that time I had lost. And he hadn’t even been trying.

  I’m going to lose. I should have hoped for a fifth-year. Then I might have at least had a chance to win.

  Swallowing my pride, I followed the prince to a rack of blades beside the commander and Master Byron. I picked up a couple of different knives, weighing them in my hands, testing their grip.

  I chose a medium-sized one of quality steel. I wrapped my fingers around the base of the handle so that my thumb overlapped my forefinger. The blade angled up with my wrist, locked and ready to strike. I was ready.

  I stood with my feet at shoulder width apart, comfortable and diagonal to my garnet-eyed opponent.

  The knowing grin on Darren’s face was obnoxiously self-assured. I could hear Priscilla cheering him on loudly to my right. You should have known Byron would never let you win.

  It was hard to imagine a month ago I’d been kissing the prince, and now I was contemplating the easiest way to strike him down before he struck me.

  Let Darren go first, I decided. Wait for him to make the first move and then disarm him. Don’t engage—disarm. Do not take him on without disarming him first!

  “Why so quiet, Ryiah?” Darren interrupted my thoughts as I matched his stride, circling so that we continued to stand across from one another, leaving no side exposed. “I should think you’d be pleased Byron thought us equal opponents.” He was smiling and waiting for me to take the bait. He knew just as I did our pairing was not, as the commander had insisted, random.

  I stayed silent and continued to study the prince’s features, not willing to waste precious energy in banter.

  “Gut her like a fish, Your Highness!” Merrick screeched.

  I bit down on my lip, hard. It was all I could do not to throw my weapon at my mentee’s face.

  Darren took the momentary distraction to lunge, striking like a serpent, quick and precise.

  I jumped back just in time. I shoved my knife into its sheath and then lunged forward, snatching the prince’s right wrist with my right hand. I threw it back behind him while I used my left hand to gouge his eyes.

  Darren swore and swung wildly with his left. I quickly pulled his blade arm and myself behind him. At the same time, I grabbed his jaw with my left hand, pulling it left as I attempted to force him to the ground.

  Darren wasn’t going to lose easily. I could feel it in the way he pushed back. His heels dug into the dirt, legs bracing against my weight. My arm was starting to hurt. The move hadn’t worked as easily on him as it did on Merrick during our drills. I kicked off with my weight, letting my feet bear down on his arm as I tried to break the prince’s defensive stance.

  But I couldn’t break it.

  All at once, the hand gripping his arm began to shake.

  Darren was fighting like mad to break free, and the pressure became too much. I lurched back, barely avoiding the swipe of his knife as I once again drew my own.

  “Now it’s my turn,” Darren told me. His eyes danced as he slashed once left and up and then across to my right in an effort to startle me. I used my blade hand to draw each attack away from my body, but my speed was lessening as he continued to slash in a seemingly random pattern of assault.

  I was so focused on blocking that I missed the quick movement when he switched blade hands.

  A sharp, biting pain found its way across my stomach. A long line of blood trailed my hips. I tried not to gasp as I fell back, stumbling to avoid his next attack.

  Darren pressed forward, continuing his gain.

  He used my pain to his advantage and swung down on my blade arm. I cried out, dropping my knife.

  The prince brought up his weapon to my throat and held it there.

  “Surrender yet, Ryiah?” His hot breath tingled against my ear, and I was unhappy to notice how pleasant it felt in the midst of defeat. His eyes were dancing.

  “Yes.” I groaned, and Darren spun the knife back in his hand, watching me with humor.

  “You put up a better fight than I expected.”

  But not good enough.

  The two of us returned to our seats. Commander Chen nodded approvingly and then sent me to a regiment healer as the next pairing began.

  I glanced at the master. Byron was smirking.

  When we were finally dismissed, I was the first to go. I spent the next four hours watching the tide rise and fall from the harbor, studying the way the frothy waves sprayed across the pier.

  Ella found me after a while and sat down beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder with a sigh.

  She’d lost to a fourth-year.

  Hours later, the evening bell tolled and the two of us left the dock. Eager Combat apprentices fought over a list that was pinned to the barracks’ door. Even the others from Restoration and Alchemy were present.

  Everyone wanted to see who had placed first in today’s competition.

  “Ry.” My brother found me, making his way to the back of the crowd. His eyes were wide.

  My stomach fell. Did I place last? Maybe Master Byron would use the contest as another way to humiliate me. Rank me even lower than the second-years. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “Well, what did she get? Wait, what did I get?” Ella clutched my brother’s shoulders.

  “You were tenth, Ella… Ry, you were—”

  My brother was interrupted by an angry shriek at the front of the room. “The lowborn placed second? This has to be a mistake!”

  The “lowborn?” There were only seven of us in Combat, but only one that Priscilla would ever call to her face.

  I clutched the pole in support. I hadn’t won, but I’d ranked second. Out of the entire faction!

  “Congratulations, Ryiah,” the prince pushed back to the edge of the crowd. “You must have impressed the commander. You lost to me, of course.” He grinned, white teeth flashing. “But there’s even better news.”

  “W-what?” I was still too startled to take in his words.

  The prince gave an innocent wave of his hand. “One of the Combat mages dropped out from the mission, so Commander Chen decided to have a second apprentice participate.”

  Panic seized my lungs. “And who would that be?”

  Darren’s smile didn’t waver.

  “You rigged this!” I spat.

  Darren raised a brow incredulously. “You wanted to win, and now you’re complaining? How was I to know you’d perform so well?”

  No one said anything, but I knew what everyone was thinking. They were all just too nice to say it aloud. I hadn’t really ranked second. Darren must have told Byron to do it and then talked one of the regiment mages into withdrawing.

  The prince stopped smiling with an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t do anything, Ryiah.”

  “But I bet Byron would,” I seethed. “I bet he would if you suggested it.”

  The prince’s eyes met mine and there was a challenge. “I suppose you’ll never know. And now we are deployed for a month. Alone.” There was that look again. That spark in the corner of his eye.

  “A month?” Ella gasped as the prince left us in shock.

  I wasn’t paying any attention. I was watching Ian who had ripped the paper he was clutching into a hundred tiny pieces with his fists balled white around them. His eyes were red, but he said nothing. A moment later, he turned and started toward the sea.

  My eyes followed him guiltily until he disappeared from sight.

&nb
sp; Priscilla’s scowl never left my face.

  “DARREN?” I found the prince later that night, drilling in the training yard long after everyone had gone to sleep. Even when we were set to sail first thing in the morning, he was ever dedicated to his stamina.

  And this is the reason he’ll always be your biggest rival.

  The prince’s casting ceased as both axes vanished from his fists.

  “Yes?” His gaze was hopeful? Calculating? I wasn’t sure I could read any of his expressions anymore.

  “When we head out tomorrow for our mission… Whatever you think is between us, it’s over.”

  “Ryiah.” The prince took a step forward and I took a step back, swallowing. “Ryiah,” he repeated. “It isn’t a game to me.”

  “It is when it’s all we can ever be.”

  The prince let out a frustrated noise and the cocky prince from earlier that evening was gone. “Ryiah, you know it’s not what I want either—”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does.”

  Gods, why couldn’t he just let me go? Why did he have to prolong this misery for both of us? There were times I believed he wanted me and times I believed I was nothing more than a plaything, something he could dangle around at the end of a rope.

  I couldn’t go on this mission and spend a month at sea fighting feelings for someone I could never have. I’d spent the last couple weeks fighting a battle I’d no hope to win.

  I was done.

  “We’re done,” I repeated the words firmly aloud. “Do you understand?”

  His hands clenched at his sides. “Ryiah, I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

  “You’re hurting me all the—”

  “I love you,” he interrupted. “Does that mean anything, Ryiah? Anything at all? I didn’t choose to be a prince! I didn’t choose any of this!”

  He loves me? No. It didn’t matter, nothing he said could change this.

  “I d-don’t care.”

  His eyes flashed crimson. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.” I made myself stand tall with my arms folded. I willed myself for this one moment to not feel anything at all. To appear as heartless and cold as my words.