by Kris Hiatt
The man looked at him with a glare Treace didn’t care for. He noticed Drevic walking up behind the other Onneron Brother.
“Then why did you tell me Wren?” He didn’t sound very happy to Treace.
“You asked for the name of the city where my constable resides, which I gave. Then you asked for the name. That implied you wanted his name, not mine.” Treace was hoping to clarify his response so the man, and the other applicants, wouldn’t think he was an idiot. From the few chuckles behind him and the large smile that Drevic wore, he didn’t think he was successful.
The man’s face turned red and he closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“What is your name?”
“Treace, sir.” He didn’t think it was in his best interest to tell the man he had already told him his name.
He found the piece of paper with Treace’s name on it and handed it to him.
“Take it before I rip it to pieces.”
Treace did as he was told.
“Magister Brental, I am here to relieve you, sir.” Drevic said.
“About time, I was about to go insane. Another idiot like that one and I might have.” Treace knew that he was talking about him and heard more giggles coming from behind him. So far he had managed to drive off an existing brother in Drevic, and he had angered someone he guessed was of higher rank than what Drevic was since Drevic had called him sir. He thought he wasn’t off to a very good start.
The man walked off without looking back and left Treace looking at his piece of paper unsure what to do next.
“Let me see,” Drevic said and reached for the paper.
Treace handed it to him and he gave it a cursory inspection.
“Go in and turn left. Speak to the brother waiting there and hand him this,” Drevic instructed, handing him back the paper.
“Thank you.”
Drevic nodded in response then said, “Next!”
Treace hugged his mother one more time and headed for the main gate.
“Good luck,” she called after him. He was glad he was about to take the exams, that way he wouldn’t have to hear any more well wishes. He knew she meant well, he was just tired of hearing it.
“Hello there applicant,” a brother said. Treace guessed he was about the same age as Drevic.
“Hello, sir.”
“I don’t get called sir very often,” he said, smiling. “May I see your paper please?”
Treace handed him the paper and took the time to look around. He saw a large central garden with many trees and bushes with benches nearby for brothers to rest on. A statue of a man centered the garden but Treace couldn’t tell who it was. Two other Onneron Brothers stood several feet behind the one he was talking to.
“Brother Tavin, please take this applicant to the reading and writing room,” the brother said.
The closer of the two brothers stepped forward, took the paper, and motioned for Treace to follow him.
“Good luck,” the first brother said. Treace winced at the words.
Brother Tavin led him to the proper room, which, as it turns out, wasn’t far away. Treace hoped he wouldn’t get well wishes from Brother Tavin and was relieved when he walked away with only a nod.
Treace moved into the room and found many other applicants already seated. According to Treace’s quick math, he counted twenty-five chairs. Five rows of five chairs each. There was only a single seat available. Treace moved to the seat, which was in the front row and closest to the door, and sat down.
A brother several years older than the previous ones, with the exception of Brental, entered the room, looked them over briefly, then reached back and closed the door. Treace’s heartbeat elevated.
“Good morning. I am Magister Kelvrin. On behalf of the entire Onneron Brotherhood, I welcome you to the College. Having been in your position before, I understand the dedication and sacrifices you have made just to get to this point. You sacrificed time with your friends and family. You sacrificed most of your childhood and hardly got a chance to play games like the other children did. You were busy studying boring things like mathematics and history,” he said and finished with a smile.
That brought a few laughs and some murmurings from a majority of those in the room. Treace, however, didn’t find that he agreed with Kelvrin. He didn’t feel like he sacrificed his childhood at all. He missed out on playing silly games that were unproductive at best. He was glad to have traded those games for learning to smith and learning to swordfight, let alone mathematics and history.
“But all of that dedication and all of your sacrifices were for this moment. What you do in the next two days will determine your future.”
The laughter ceased and silence filled the room. Kelvrin looked everyone over with a warm smile.
“I will be administering the first part of your tests today. Each exam will be two hundred and fifty questions. You will complete this today and you will complete the oral portion of the exam tomorrow. You will return on the following day at noon for your results.”
Treace looked over the classroom and saw many emotions; disbelief and terror the most common. Treace felt for them and knew the feeling, disbelief anyway. He couldn’t believe he was here. He couldn’t believe he was about to start the tests that would either open the door to whole new possibilities, or close them forever.
“You will have until the afternoon ringing of the bell to complete your exam. If you have not completed your exam by that time, you will still get credit for the questions you have completed. When you turn in your written exam later, I will give you a time to be here for the oral portion of your exam tomorrow.”
Several people grumbled about the information, but not many and not loudly. Treace wasn’t certain of when the afternoon bell rang. It could be at lunch, or he thought it might be at dinner.
“If I catch you cheating, you will be removed and will not be able to attend the College. Questions?”
Treace thought about asking the question about the bell, but since everyone else was silent and after his debacle earlier, he decided to keep his mouth shut.
Kelvrin handed out the exams without having to answer a question. Treace thought that probably happened often.
Treace looked his exam over and knew the terror he saw in the other student’s faces; he had no idea how to answer the first question.
Chapter 9
Drevic was the first one off the ship and had walked to the College to give Archmagister Nimbril the message from the Archbishop. He still didn’t know what to think about the message, but he hoped the Archmagister would shed some light on the situation.
He knocked on the door three times, indicating the importance. It was in the afternoon and he knew the Archmagister, and all of the brothers, would be busy preparing for the entrance exams. He knew what he needed to tell the Archmagister was important. He figured he wouldn’t be in trouble for the intrusion. The story after the intrusion was what he was worried about.
“Enter.”
Drevic entered, shut the door behind him, and bowed to the older man, who was absorbed in his work and didn’t look up when he entered the room.
“You have a letter from the Archbishop?” Nimbril asked after a few seconds, pausing in his work.
“No, Archmagister, I do not.”
“Then what is so important that you interrupted my work?”
“The Archbishop wanted me to relay a message, Archmagister,” Drevic said. He knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“Speak it then,” Nimbril said impatiently.
“First, I feel I should relay the events leading up to my meeting with the Archbishop as they tie directly in to his message.”
The Archmagister put down his quill, leaned back in his chair, and twirled his finger in a gesture that Drevic understood meant for him to continue.
Drevic recounted of how he healed the merchant on the road and pointed out several times that he declined every ride offered. He told him of how effective the healing was and of what
the merchant said he would do when he arrived in Haven.
With the story finished, Nimbril rose from his chair and began to pace back and forth behind his desk.
“I didn’t think he would tell virtually every person he came into contact with when he arrived in Haven,” Drevic pleaded.
“It’s not every person in Haven that I’m worried about, Brother Drevic. I’m concerned that the man was so compelled to tell the Archbishop himself,” Nimril said, pausing his pacing to look directly at him.
Drevic still couldn’t believe it either. When he arrived in Haven there were at least a dozen people that stopped him to say thank you and to wish him well. One person even told Drevic that he was glad God stepped in and sent an Onneron Brother to help the merchant. Archmagister Nimbril didn’t seem to be taking it as bad as he thought. The man sat down at his desk and placed his head in his hands, but he wasn’t furious like Drevic thought he would be. Then again, he hadn’t heard the worst part.
“Speaking of the Archbishop, shall I relay the message now?”
“Please do, although I believe I know where this is going.”
“The Archbishop said to tell you that the time for communications by letter has come to an end. He wishes to personally meet with you to discuss how the Church can absorb the College, and also to find out which side we are on,” Drevic said. He had no idea what the last part meant, but he was sure the Archmagister wasn’t going to like the news.
“So it has finally come to this,” was all the Archmagister calmly said.
Drevic was surprised at the response. “Come to what, Archmagister?”
“Go, quickly, and get all the magisters and join me in the Meeting Chamber. If they hesitate or delay in the least, tell them I said I am speaking through you.”
“Yes, Archmagister,” Drevic said and bowed.
He walked out of the room and wondered what was so important that the Archmagister wanted to bring all of the magisters to the Meeting Chamber. It was highly unusual. The chamber was reserved strictly for the five members of the board and the Archmagister. So for him to request all twelve magisters intrigued Drevic. The Church wanted to absorb them, so what? Archmagister Nimbril could simply tell them no. He wasn’t sure what was going on but was disappointed that he wasn’t a magister, because he wouldn’t be involved in the discussion.
It didn’t take him long to find the magisters and most of them accepted the request with a simple nod and at most a slight rise of the brow. Not Brental, though. The magister made it very clear that he didn’t like being summoned by a brother of such low rank and without notice, even if it was the Archmagister’s words. The man sputtered a bit and said he would be there shortly.
Drevic went to the Meeting Chamber and knocked softly before entering. He knew the meeting hadn’t begun yet; Magister Brental had yet to arrive.
“Magister Brental said he would be here shortly, sir,” Drevic said and moved to close the door.
“Brother Drevic,” Nimbril said.
“Yes, Archmagister?”
“You should stay.”
The magisters in attendance exchanged a few glances.
“Ye-yes, sir,” Drevic stammered and entered the chamber, closing the door softly behind him. He moved to a spot next to Magister Kelvrin, who gave him a wink when he approached. The other four members of the board were already seated, as was the Archmagister. The other seven magisters and Drevic stood around the room with their backs to the wall. They were only waiting on Brental.
A few minutes later Magister Brental opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as he saw that the board had far too many participants, he shot the Archmagister a look that everyone knew meant he was not happy.
“Sit, Magister Brental, we have much to discuss,” Archmagister Nimbril said.
Brental did not sit right away, however, first he looked around the room and locked eyes with the other magisters who were not part of the board. Most couldn’t hold his gaze and looked down. He locked eyes with Drevic and his face turned into a sneer.
“What is he doing here?” Brental demanded, pointing at Drevic.
“As I said, sit,” Nimbril said, pointing to the one remaining empty seat.
“This is outrageous! First I am summoned without warning, and then I find this board full of magisters that haven’t earned the right to be here. And then you tarnish it further by allowing him to be here!” Magister Brental said, pointing at Drevic, fuming.
“Magister Brental, sit down this very second and shut your damned mouth!” Archmagister Nimbril shouted as he rose from his chair at the head of the table. The rest of the room flinched and shied away at the Archmagister’s outburst.
“You can’t talk to me that way!”
“I’ll talk to you any way I feel, I am the Archmagister, not you. And I say, only one more time, either you sit and shut your mouth or you will be removed,” Nimbril said.
Brental’s face was one of pure disgust, but he finally did as he was told and sat down.
“I tire of your insolence Magister Brental. If you so much as say another word I will convene the council to have you removed. And not from just this board, but from the College,” Nimbril warned, now starting to cool. The Archmagister fixed Brental with such a fierce look that Drevic had never before seen on the face of the man, and he had seen him agitated before. Even the proud Brental couldn’t hold that gaze and looked down.
“With that unfortunate tirade settled,” Nimbril began, looking straight at Brental, who still had his eyes fixed on the table. “We have important matters to discuss. To lead things off, Brother Drevic, please relay your tale as you did to me and leave nothing out.”
Drevic felt his face grow hot as every eye in the room turned to regard him. Even Magister Brental looked at him, but he didn’t like the look the magister shot his way. He stepped forward and told his tale. Several people, especially Magister Edas, gave an appreciative smile when he told the part of healing the merchant and how well Drevic thought he performed.
“What does it mean?” Magister Ferral asked Drevic.
Drevic was surprised the question was aimed at him and was glad when the Archmagister answered.
“It means,” he said, pausing slightly so everyone could face him. “That the Church sees us as a threat to their existence. They believe that only God has the power to heal and because we have the ability to heal, the Archbishop believes we should be men of God.”
“Our powers are not given to us through prayer,” Magister Edas said.
“We are not men of God,” Magister Sentin agreed.
“Calm people, let me finish,” Nimbril ordered. Everyone quieted in an instant.
“Bear with me and listen to the ramblings of someone who has been involved with this for several years,” the Archmagister said. “The Church has wanted to absorb the College for a while now, believing our gifts to be given by God. Some of you may believe they are gifts from God, others may not. That’s not the only important part right now.”
Drevic couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In some part of his mind, he guessed the magical abilities they possessed could be gifts from God, although the larger part told him they most certainly were not.
“I also know the Archbishop has Baron Liernin’s ear, and Liernin is a man of faith. I have heard from various sources that say Archbishop Vrindel has asked him, on more than one occasion, to step in and assist the Church with the matter of absorbing us.”
Many of the magisters looked at each other in disbelief. Drevic couldn’t believe it either. Would the baron step in and back the Church’s takeover of the College? He wasn’t sure about that. He had gotten the impression from the people of Haven that Liernin was a good man. He left Haven at such a young age, he didn’t have any contact with the man himself, but by all the things he remembered hearing, the baron was a man of quality.
“I don’t believe Liernin would do such a thing, at least not at this point,” Nimbril said, continuing. “I have always believ
ed, as did the previous Archmagister, that the talents we possess are talents learned through dedication and hard work, not powers given to us by God.”
There were several heads nodding in agreement, but Drevic did notice that Magister Edas didn’t nod right away and only did so after the majority of others began doing so.
“But I charge all of you in this room to search your feelings, search your heart. Which do you believe to be true?” the Archmagister asked. He waited a few minutes and looked at Magister Edas, gesturing for him to speak first.
“I believe that while we have dedicated most of our lives to our craft, learning the Paths that Kaden himself set before us, I can’t help but wonder about the possibility that the Church is right. They worship him as the world’s savior, and our world is named in his honor, as is our brotherhood. I know we have worked hard for our talents, yet I don’t rule out the possibility of Kaden’s hand playing a part in it,” Magister Edas said before slumping in his chair.
“Ah, Magister Edas,” Nimbril began. “I’m glad I started with you. As the current instructor of Path of Heart, I knew you would speak yours. I appreciate your honesty and ask the rest to follow suit.”
Drevic was glad the Archmagister acknowledged the difficult situation he placed Edas in, and he was also glad Edas was honest.
The rest of the magisters sided with the Archmagister, except Kelvrin and Sentin, who said they believed the talents were learned, and believed Kaden may have something to do with it, but didn’t feel they were men of God.
“Magister Brental?”
“My talents were earned through dedication and hard work, not by the pulling of strings from an unknown entity that does not, and most likely did not exist.”
No one at the table seemed to be surprised at the fiery man’s words.
“Brother Drevic?” Nimbril asked. “You are not yet a magister, but I would hear your thoughts.”
Drevic froze. Everyone turned to listen to his answer. He didn’t think the Archmagister would ask him, he wasn’t a magister. He hadn’t prepared an answer, and he wasn’t even sure how he felt. Of course there were possibilities, how could you not think it was possible given all they could do?