Perfect for some target practice, he thought.
He could already picture himself conjuring bolts of energy, destroying plates and jars from across the room.
Fetching one of the tables and one of the chairs, he fashioned a desk for himself in one corner, placing his studying material on top of it – the manual on Magic and the Runium flask.
Sitting down, he grabbed the vial and inspected its content. The Runium looked like mercury, its streaks of red reminding him it had been made of Dragon blood. Fadan grimaced, picturing having to drink that thing.
Well, I suppose I should start with the theory, anyway, he thought, placing the vial down and opening the book.
“By all accounts,” Fadan read from the first page. “Magic is as counter-intuitive as breathing underwater. Learning to do it consists of teaching your body that everything it knows is wrong. Up can be down, fire can freeze, air can be solid, and so on and so on. It becomes all the more difficult considering Wizards can’t permanently be under the effects of Runium – such experiments were made by numerous Wizards throughout history, always with gruesome results. This effectively means that everything you retrain your mind and body to believe under a dose of the potion will immediately resume its state of falsehood as soon as the effects wear off.”
Well… this should be easy then.
“While the detrimental effects on your learning of Magic, of not being under Runium, will diminish with experience, one thing will never change. No spell, charm, incantation, or other form of Magic can ever be learned without the influence of the Dragon blood concoction. It would be like trying to climb a ladder without having a ladder to climb. Attempting to learn Magic without first drinking Runium is thus, an exercise in futility.”
Alright, then… Fadan thought. Straight to practice it is.
Trying not to think too much about it, Fadan closed his eyes and tipped his head back, swallowing the Runium in one single gulp.
It tasted like iron. Or was it blood?
At first, all he felt was a freshness coating his throat. Then, it began to warm further and further until his mouth, throat, and stomach were on fire. Fadan had drunk strong liquor before, but this was much, much more powerful. The burning kept increasing until it became almost too painful to endure. Fadan regretted not having some water to sooth it with.
The burning slowly turned into a choke, and Fadan had trouble breathing. He jumped up, grabbing his throat, and the chair fell backwards. The world spun and blue clouds formed with his breaths, even though he felt like he was drowning.
What’s happening to me?
He staggered sideways and his footsteps made the floor shake… no, the whole building. Then, suddenly, air flooded his entire body as he inhaled, and it was as if everything in front of him got closer, then backed away when he exhaled. The burning eased into a more tolerable level, and he felt himself swell and grow taller. Or was everything else shrinking?
He looked at his hands. They were pulsing with an indigo hue.
I’m powerful, he thought.
“I’m powerful!” he echoed out loud, staggering backwards and forwards.
There was something filling his chest, begging to come flooding out. Something so potent that he had to breathe heavily just to contain it.
“I can feel everything!” Fadan looked at the dinner set across the room and smiled wickedly. “I can tear it all apart!”
Eyes bulging, he sent his hands forward, commanding that force in his chest to pour through them.
A gush of blue light shot from his palms, but instead of following a straight line, the light surged in every possible direction, blinding him. A searing pain exploded in his chestas if he had eaten embers. He tried to scream, but his throat was ablaze. The world spun, accelerating and becoming a blur, then‒‒
BAM!
He smacked his head on the floor, his whole body convulsing uncontrollably until darkness swallowed him and he blacked out.
Chapter 8
The Frostbound
Sand trailed after them as they ran atop the dunes. Relentless sun seared their skins. Aric felt his heart-beat hammering and his lungs and feet burning. He grabbed the canteen on his belt and raised it to his cracked lips. Nothing, not a single drop left.
Goddess damn it.
He tried swallowing to get some moisture in his throat. It felt like it had been covered with thick parchment.
“We need… to rest…” he said between heavy panting.
“Not until we find some shade,” said Ashur, a blond boy from Samehria. “Toughen up, half-prince.”
Aric looked for support among the others, but besides little Lyra, who had her brother to carry her, no one seemed as exhausted as him.
“Here,” Clea said, holding her canteen towards Aric.
“No,” he replied. “I can’t drink your water. You’re gonna need it.”
“It’s fine,” she insisted, smiling.
Aric took a little sip. Just enough so she would let it go, even though he would have drunk a laundry tub if he had one.
Midday was approaching, and the sun felt hotter with every step. Aric’s running became a stagger, and he began to fall behind.
“Rocks!” Nahir, the honor guard from Cyrinia, screamed from the front. “I see rocks up ahead.”
There was a group of brown stones a mile to the northeast, jutting out from the sand like pillars. Aric would have thanked Ava out loud if he had found the breath to do so. The nearly vertical sun meant every shadow was as small as it would get, but those boulders were tall enough to create a decent resting area.
Aric was the last to reach the blissful shadow. His legs careened against his will, and he zigzagged on the last couple of steps until his foot caught in a small crevice and he crashed on the ground. Hands abraded, he remained on his fours, feeling his stomach turning. He tried to swallow but his throat clenched, and then suddenly, puke burst from his mouth.
“Ava mother…” Ashur said. “Get a grip of yourself, half-prince.”
Aric felt a mess. Between the jets of vomit, the fact that he was already out of breath from the dune sprint, and the tears welling up in his eyes, it was like drowning.
“Leave him alone,” Clea told Ashur. “He just drank too much water.” She knelt besides Aric, placing a soft hand around his shoulders.
“I’m ok,” Aric managed to tell her. This was all sufficiently humiliating without her feeling pity for him. Not only that, but she was right too. Aric had already drunk his entire supply of water, and they were still hours away from the fortress. He had no idea how he was going to make it.
Ashur snorted. “Leave him alone…” he muttered. “I wish he would leave us alone.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Aric asked, wiping his mouth.
“You’re dead weight,” Ashur replied. “You slow us down. Make everything harder for the Company.”
“I’m just not used to running,” Aric said. “That’s all.”
“Bull-crap!” Ashur said. “You suck at everything.” He started counting with his fingers. “You suck at climbing, so we have to heave you up the walls; you suck at fighting, so your team is always one man down; you even suck at waking up! You’re always late for muster and then we all have to do push-ups with you.”
Aric stood up, clenching a fist. “I’ve never done these things! I’m learning.”
That looked to be exactly what Ashur wanted. He took a step forward and stared Aric in the eyes, their faces a mere inch apart.
“Learn without screwing everyone else!” Ashur said, gritting his teeth.
Narrowing his eyes, Aric held Ashur’s stare, praying that would be all he would have to do. After all, Ashur was a head taller than him. Not to mention twice as wide.
“Back off!” Leth’s voice sounded like a snarl. He brushed past Aric and placed himself in front of Ashur.
The blond Samehrian chuckled. “The half-prince has a body-guard. Figures….”
“You’re being a
jerk,” Clea told Ashur.
Ashur was going to retort with something but Aric cut him off.
“I’m fine!” he said, speaking to Leth and Clea at the same time. “I can take care of myself.”
At the sound of that, Ashur’s head jerked back and he burst into laughter. Aric began to tremble. He closed both fists so hard blood disappeared from his hands. It just made Ashur laugh louder. Prion and Jullion, who never left his side, joined Ashur’s laughter. Aric’s world became a blur. The whole desert was trembling with him.
He snapped, lunging towards Ashur. He pulled his fist back and smacked him right between the eyes.
Aric, Leth, and Clea, standing against the corridor wall, cringed each time the muffled yells crossed the thick wooden door in front of them.
“You should have stayed out of it,” Aric whispered. “They’re gonna drop you in the deep desert for this.”
“Well,” Leth replied. “Three against one wasn’t exactly fair.”
“Yeah,” Clea agreed. “Three against two didn’t seem fair either.”
“Are you kidding?” Leth asked, his whispers bordering on normal voice levels. “Me and Aric could have handled those idiots.”
Clea chuckled. “Sure you could, blue eyes.”
Leth glared. “Is it that bad?” He turned to Aric. “Does it look very bad?”
Mumbling something inaudible, Aric inspected the purple circles growing around Leth’s hazelnut eyes. It was all the answer Leth needed, and he cursed under his breath.
“I hate Samehrians,” Leth said.
“I think Jullion is Thepian,” Clea told him.
“And Prion is Arreline, like me,” Aric added.
Leth shrugged. “I don’t care… Ashur is Samehrian enough for all three of them.”
The door opened and Saruk held it with a blank expression. With their eyes on the floor, Ashur and his two minions left the room and kept walking without a word.
“Get in,” Saruk’s rough voice thundered.
Exchanging a quick glance, Aric, Leth, and Clea obeyed, and the door slammed behind them.
“You haven’t been here a week and you’re giving me this crap already?”
Aric felt bits of saliva hitting his face.
“We just…”
“Be quiet!” Saruk aimed a finger at Leth and Clea. “And you two, what the heck were you thinking?”
“We fell,” Leth replied with a shrug.
“Oh please.” The Hunter waved an arm and turned his back to them. “The other three are as dumb as doornails, but you’re even dumber if you think I don’t already know what happened.”
The three recruits exchanged another glance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, instructor,” Aric said. “We were climbing these rocks and‒”
“Stop that!” Saruk snapped, eyes glaring. “I’m not sending you on the pilgrimage if that´s what you’re worried about, so stop with the act. It’s insulting.”
“Forgive us, instructor,” Clea pleaded, entwining her fingers. “We were tired, hungry, and thirsty… we should have known better than to fight them.”
Saruk scowled. “Yeah right… I have to train a brand new Company in record time and these are the recruits I’m given….” He crossed his arms, eyes swaying from Aric to Leth. “Even the noblemen act like tavern brawlers.” He paced from one side to the other. “The three of you will have the privilege of telling your Company the good news. The punishment will apply to all of them.”
“What?!” Aric asked.
“The entire Company must learn that you are in this together. Good and bad. Rewards and punishments.” There was a small silence. “Tell your fellow recruits that the twenty third Company is to muster in the courtyard at sundown. No dinner.”
In Lamash, unlike any other castle Aric knew about, the courtyard wasn’t at ground level. Instead, it was perched up high on the mountain, like a balcony that ended on a massive cliff.
The moon hung low in the sky, and a soft wind grew colder and colder. Saruk paced in front of the line of recruits, staring each of them down. His orders had been simple – hold a spear out at arm’s length. At first, it had seemed easy enough, especially considering this was a form of punishment, but it didn’t take long before everyone’s arms began to ache and tremble. After an hour, Aric was dripping with sweat, even though the desert heat was long gone for the day. He was gritting his teeth, trying to tuck the pain away into some forgotten corner of his mind.
“Recruit!” Saruk screamed. He stormed towards little Lyra. “Hold that spear up or Goddess be my witness I’ll throw you off this mountain.”
Tears dripped down Lyra’s cheeks, but she obeyed with a quiet sob. Beside her, her brother Ergon faced Saruk with murderous eyes. Athan and Irenya didn’t look much better than little Lyra, and Aric allowed himself some small pleasure in finally not being the worst performer of the Company.
“What’s the matter, priest?” Saruk asked Athan. “Are you tired?”
The boy tried to answer, but all that came out was a groan of pain.
“Have you forgotten how to draw your strength from the goddess?” Saruk insisted. “Has she abandoned you?”
Athan’s back was buckling, his eyes were closed shut, his arms twitching. “Mother Ava…” he managed to mutter, “never leaves my side.”
“She must be bored out of her mind then,” Saruk replied, continuing along the line of recruits.
The instructor passed by Nahir. There wasn’t a single drop of sweat rolling down his face. The tall Cyrinian looked so calm and still he could have been mistaken for a statue. Beside him, Orisius, the green eyed Arreline the girls in the Company couldn’t take their eyes off, inhaled and exhaled so loud and fast he sounded like a dog sniffing the dirt. Aric wondered how that could possibly help.
“You are all weak,” Saruk announced, “and weak recruits don’t survive their training.” He paused and looked at Nahir. “Well, maybe not all of you.”
The black boy smirked.
“The problem is, some of you are never going to be strong. So how do weak recruits survive in the Guild? Easy. They become a Company, something you don’t yet understand. But you’re in luck. I will grant you the privilege of explaining it to you.” At that moment, a torrent of Hunters flooded the courtyard and surrounded the recruits. “You will learn to appreciate each other’s flaws and qualities as if they are your own because that’s what a team is. And this is the choice you have to make. Either become one or die.” Aric had no doubt Saruk was staring at him during the last couple of words, then he faced Nahir. “Including the strong. Is that understood?”
“Yes, instructor!” the recruits replied in a powerful unison.
Saruk spat on the ground. “Pathetic… Here’s another problem you have – I don’t believe you.”
Before any of the recruits had time to react, the circle of Hunters closed in on them, covering their mouths and noses with a piece of cloth.
Aric struggled uselessly with the large man tying his arms behind his back.
What are they doing?!
The piece of cloth had a funny smell, and it felt like it was clearing a path through his airways. The world began to blur, then spin, then everything exploded into white.
With a groan, Aric sat up, hands gripping his head.
“Look, the half-prince is up,” Tharius said.
“Finally…” Ashur complained.
Massaging his throbbing head, Aric inspected his surroundings. It was a poorly lit room made of dark stone and… glittering walls?
“Where are we?” Aric asked.
“That’s a very good question,” Dothea replied. She was kneeling next to one of the walls. “Wherever we are, it can’t be the desert. This place is covered in ice.”
“Seriously?”
It sure felt cold in there.
“Also,” Dothea continued, aiming at the glittering stone beneath the shiny layer of ice. “There’s Glowstone in there. My guess is that
we’re in the Shamissai Mountains.”
“Not a chance,” Leth said. “We must have blacked out for a few hours at best. It would have taken them days, if not weeks, to get us to the Shamissai.”
That’s when Aric noticed Leth was balancing a broad-sword horizontally on his index finger.
“Where did you get that?” Aric asked.
“What, this?” Leth asked, indicating the sword. He threw it up, grabbed the handle, and swung it from side to side in a blur of twists and twirls until it disappeared into a sheath on his belt. “It’s mine.”
“Apparently,” Clea said, holding a bow, “the instructors left us here with some of our personal belongings.”
“Yeah,” Ashur said. “Obviously, you got some jewelry.” He tossed the Glowstone and Dragon scale armor onto Aric’s lap. The cuirass landed with a clinking sound.
“Still better than what the priest got,” Jullion said.
“I’m not a priest,” Athan retorted. “I told you. I never took my vows.”
“What did you get?” Aric asked.
Athan searched his pockets and produced a sphere made of red glass with a metal lid on top. He flipped the lid up and a pinky sized flame flicked into existence.
“My prayer flask.”
Jullion, Ashur, and Prion chuckled, but Athan ignored them.
“Are we just going to stand here doing nothing?” Dothea asked. “Everyone is up. Shouldn’t we try to get out of here?”
“I still don’t feel very well,” Aric said, standing up. Then he froze and placed a hand on his belly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Don’t you dare to throw up in here,” Ashur warned. “It’ll stink up the place.”
“Will you stop that?” Trissa said, placing her hands on her waist. “It was that attitude that got us in here the first place.”
Ashur didn’t like that. He stepped towards her, crossing his arms.
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