‘Lillanthia Mardon, of the now-defunct House of Briarrose,’ Jomur said in his monotone, reading a passage directly from a book, ‘first theorised the continued existence of Murasa, the Lost God, years after the Celestial War. She postulated he had not fled this realm because his seers could still sense his presence, albeit weak and suppressed. Furthermore, the lack of any godshard suggests the Lost God did not perish like Zemus or Thelos. She mentioned Murasa may be biding his time in recovery, but her research was abruptly cut short when she had begun exploring another hypothesis on a new compound glyph…’
Kairos’s eyes drooped, and he had to pry them open to stay awake. He looked over at Althea, who was furiously scribbling down notes as the instructor prattled on. He wondered how she could enjoy this rubbish. At first, he thought he lacked interest due to not having any magical abilities, but a glance around the rest of the class showed that he wasn’t alone. The other squires shivered in misery.
With a great yawn, Kairos put his head down on his arms and closed his eyes. He couldn’t tolerate this class much longer. The instructor’s voice lulled him into a pleasant nap.
‘Squire Azel! What is the meaning of this?’
Kairos lifted his head in a daze. Instructor Jomur was staring at him and frowning, which caused his receding chin to recede even further. Kairos stared back, did not answer. The other squires sitting nearby responded with smothered giggles. This was the most entertainment they had yet had.
‘Do you mean to make a mockery of my lecture?’ Jomur asked.
‘No,’ Kairos answered. He just wanted the lecture to end.
‘You must say, ‘No, Instructor Jomur,’’ the instructor corrected.
Kairos sighed. ‘No, Instructor Jomur.’
‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’ Jomur put his book down on his desk, his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath.
Kairos saw the posture and knew the instructor was about to launch into another one of his diatribes. He yawned without bothering to cover his mouth, much to Jomur’s chagrin and the other squires’ further amusement.
‘How would this rubbish help us in a fight?’ Kairos asked.
The quiet laughter halted. Althea, who sat to the right of Kairos, gasped.
Jomur squinted, which Kairos had learnt was an indicator that he was angry, and opened his mouth to speak. At the same time the bell rang outside from the courtyard, signalling an end to the class and drowning out whatever he was saying. Kairos stood up and walked out, leaving the instructor standing there and sputtering in impotent frustration.
With the exception of Jomur’s class, though, the rest of the Mana Knight Academy was enjoyable for Kairos. The other recruits accepted him, and treated him well. He had been worried that after the beating he’d given Vaughn he would have enemies, but apart from the usual vulgar humour among the youth, no hostility was apparent. Vaughn had recovered before starting the Academy (Kairos later learnt that was thanks to Sir Flain’s healing spells) and acknowledged Kairos with a nod when their paths crossed, but neither spoke after the fight. The rest of the squires displayed reserved admiration for Kairos and his candid honesty.
The instructors and professors expressed the opposite. Professor Bumbershoot, who taught the rules and regulations of Knighthood, complained how Kairos lacked focus. Instructor Jomur openly expressed his desire to remove him from the Knighthood. However, as a mere instructor, all Jomur could do was take out his frustrations in the classroom.
The smallest class Kairos had was Rudimentary Spellcasting with Professor Argent. It was a relaxed class, and the only other squires in attendance were Althea, Shah, and Squire Urzen, a shy and quiet squire who seemed friendly enough. Kairos did not need to be a genius to understand that this was a class created for the cast-offs – those who demonstrated little aptitude for magic.
Kairos knew he was the worst of the lot.
At first, he feared the professor would reveal his secret (if he had not already) to the others. But much to his relief, that was not the case. Professor Argent said nothing when Kairos brought the casting glove and the staff Mr. Dubose made, only raised an eyebrow for a moment, and then coolly ignored him.
Kairos would have liked Argent’s class more had he carried the ability for magic. Argent took a pragmatic approach to teaching, showing the students a demonstration and expecting direct results – just like a warrior. Thus, Kairos learnt which glyphs created fire, or which summoned a torrent of water. Much to his amazement, he discovered that each element of magic had its own unique pattern of glyphs when it came to forming the spell.
Under the watchful eye of Professor Argent, Kairos, along with the other pupils, practised their spellcasting in the courtyard. Or rather, the other students practised casting glyphs while Kairos merely pretended to do so with his casting glove and staff. Their objective was to hurl spells at a row of straw dummies, which stood on the other side of the yard.
Kairos used his glove to trace the glyphs, then activated the trigger in the staff, which detonated the gnome powder inside, sending a fiery projectile sailing across the courtyard and into the dummy, incinerating a portion of it. He had practised his aim with Mr. Dubose all summer, and it didn’t take him long to look like a natural in the class. Despite the strong odour of gnome powder wafting out the hollowed end of the staff, none of the students were ever the wiser.
They had their own concerns.
Althea could cast a fire spell, but only to light a candle or start a cooking fire, not to incinerate an enemy from a distance. For some unknown reason, Squire Urzen was afraid of fire, and all of his fire glyphs fizzled out. He could summon a gust of wind, but that only caused the straw dummy to sway on its stand. Then there was Squire Shah, who set himself afire.
After Professor Argent doused him with a deluge of water, he subsequently banned him from practising with fire magic for the duration of the class.
Thus, Kairos’s ‘curse’ had gone unnoticed by the others, and he was able to perform the spellcasting portion of his training without problems. It was only a matter of time, though. Each time he attended Argent’s class, he felt like a fraudster living a big lie. Galen and Mr. Dubose had told him to keep it a secret, and Kairos knew he would not benefit from telling anyone, but sometimes it was too much. He wanted to tell Althea in private, but they never had much time together.
So he continued his façade of sorcery in silence.
* * *
By the afternoon of their fifth day, the squires had finished their classes, and met at the training grounds – a large field located near Valour Keep. The afternoon sun did little to warm the twenty recruits, as they formed two ranks of ten, all of them clutching a wooden spear.
It was here the squires met the man they all feared and dreaded the most: Sir Flain.
Sir Flain stood before them, his fierce eyes studying them, and his face grew disgusted by what he saw. Of all the professors and instructors, he was the only one who was an actual Mana Knight. At fifty years old, he stood tall, and proudly wore the emblem of a silver lion that designated him as a paladin, as opposed to the ordinary lion that represented the typical Lion Knight. His hair, close- cropped, was iron-grey. His face and exposed arms bore scars from various wounds, and he wore a perpetual scowl, as if his only emotion was anger.
Sir Flain introduced himself with a voice that would have carried over the din of the daily hammering inside Dwarfside. ‘Listen up, squires. I am Sir Flain. You may call me ‘sir’ or ‘Sir Flain’, but don’t ever call me ‘Flain’. I am here to instruct you ladies on how to use a mana lance–’
‘But sir,’ came a voice. All eyes turned toward Shah. ‘This isn’t a real mana lance, Sir Flain. It’s a wooden stick with a padded tip.’
Kairos discreetly hefted his wooden spear and realised that it was weighted, much heavier than any spear he had ever held.
Flain marched right up to Shah’s face, touching him nose to nose like lovers, except Flain looked as if he wanted to chew Shah
’s head off.
‘Squire Shah! That is a fascinating observation you have made about my weighted spears. We give these to you squires, because the Knighthood deems you too worthless to waste a fine mana lance.’ Shah blanched and dipped backwards, but Flain leant forward to continue pressing his nose into the hapless squire. ‘And don’t you ever interrupt me again, squire. If I hear one more word out of your mouth, I will set you on fire and put you out by beating you with a wet flail. Understood?’
Barnaby Shah nodded.
‘What’s that?’ Flain shouted. ‘I cannot hear you!’
‘Y-yes, s-s-sir,’ Shah stammered.
‘Louder!’
‘Yes, sir,’ Shah said.
‘That’s better,’ Flain said with a look of satisfaction. ‘Now eat some dirt.’
The recruits soon learnt that ‘eating dirt’ meant fifty push-ups, and they stared forward awaiting further instructions as Shah dropped down to do push-ups.
‘Now.’ Flain hoisted his own wooden spear upwards. ‘I will demonstrate how to use this weapon, which is supposed to simulate a mana lance.’ He took a stance and lunged. ‘Now you try – and put your weight behind it. When I say ‘strike,’ you step forward and ram that spear forward with your best roar! You hold that position.’ The paladin stopped a moment to allow Shah the time to finish his push-ups and gather his spear. ‘When I yell ‘recover,’ you return to the original position. Strike!’
Sir Flain’s command at the tail of his instructions tripped up all but the most observant squires. Half the recruits thrust, while the others faltered. Kairos caught on before the others and gave a powerful thrust with a hearty yell. Althea’s attack followed shortly after. Shah thrust, lost his grip on the spear, which flew forward and almost struck Flain, who barely dodged in time.
‘Recover,’ Sir Flain hollered, and the squires returned to their starting position. All except Shah. ‘Missing something, Squire Shah?’
‘Oops,’ Shah said, walking sheepishly out of formation to retrieve his spear under Flain’s baleful stare.
‘Squire Shah,’ Sir Flain began quietly.
‘Yes, Sir Flain?’ Shah asked nervously.
‘I don’t even know why the Knighthood allowed you here. I’ve been watching you for ten minutes and I pray to Zemus for the future of the Knighthood. You are more useless than a one-legged cat trying to bury shit on a frozen pond!’
Kairos cast a sidelong glance at Althea, who smirked back at him. He almost broke out into a laugh. He was not alone, either. Several other recruits snickered at Shah’s expense.
‘Quiet in the ranks!’ Flain thundered.
The recruits snapped back to attention.
The older knight eyed them as a hawk hovers over its prey, waiting to seize an opportunity to strike. No squire wanted to attract the paladin’s attention.
‘Strike!’
This time, everyone yelled and attacked.
‘Hold that position,’ Flain shouted. ‘Don’t move!’
The squires held their spears extended at an awkward angle. Soon the horizontal rows of spears began to wobble as the arms holding them began to tire. Kairos held his spear strong and steady, and he silently thanked Mr. Dubose for the back-breaking manual labour during the summer. He looked over at Althea whose spear trembled and dipped lower and lower. She bit her lip as sweat trickled down the sides of her delicate face. Her strength was draining fast; her spear tip about to touch the ground.
‘Recover!’
Every squire breathed a sigh of relief and returned to their original positions. Kairos’s blood was flowing. For the first time all day, he had no time to think about his mana-less situation. Or the losses of his recent past. Before he could contemplate his problems, he readied himself for more of the exercise. Flain noticed his eagerness, but made no comment.
‘Strike!’
‘Recover!’
After an hour of the session, the squires could barely raise their spears. Kairos was the exception, although even his muscles were beginning to tire. Sir Flain stalked in front of the ranks of recruits, told them to be still.
All listened except Shah.
Sir Flain was on him in a flash. ‘Squire Shah! I don’t care if a hob bends you over and starts humping you. You don’t move at the position of attention. You let him finish! Understood?’
‘Y-yes, sir!’ Shah stammered.
With a look of pure disgust mixed with hatred, Flain resumed his place at the front. ‘I bet some of you are wondering why we’re training with spears, huh? I bet some of you are wondering why we even bother with weapons when you can toss around your flashy spells.’
Several recruits nodded. Everyone, except Kairos, preferred magic.
Flain raised his spear and lunged at Claudius, who flinched a moment after the spear tip stopped within an arm’s width from his face. Flain swung the spear downwards, sweeping the squire’s feet, knocking him to the ground. Flain then charged at the other squires who turned and ran. They scattered before Kairos, as he saw the paladin levelling the spear towards him. Kairos took a stance to parry the incoming thrust, but it never came.
The paladin spat and turned and faced the squires, who now milled about in disarray.
‘That’s why we use weapons. Because they work. Most of you would have been dead. The enemy, especially dwarves, aren’t going to sit around playing hounds-n-jackals while you’re casting a spell. That’s why we train with weapons over and over. Because the body remembers what your addled brains forget! Now fall in!’
Everyone shuffled back into their ranks.
‘Strike!’ Sir Flain shouted, resuming the exercise. ‘Recover! Strike! Recover!’
The exercise continued until the sun began its descent into the Gloaming Peaks of the West. When the session finally ended, most of the squires flopped onto the cold grass and lay panting. Sir Flain directed them to return their weapons and head back to the barracks where they could eat and sleep. Everyone readily complied.
Kairos felt an unbearable hunger. He returned his spear and was about to leave with Althea when Sir Flain pulled him aside.
‘I know about your little spat with Vaughn,’ he told Kairos in a low voice. ‘I was in the audience hall next to the magistrate that day, and I voted to bar you entry to the Academy. I was out-voted. We don’t need a reckless, cocky bastard like you coming into the Knighthood, botching things up.’ A leering grin spread across Sir Flain’s face. ‘But now, I’m rather glad you made it in here, because I’ll be watching your every move. There’s something not quite right about you. I don’t know what it is, but I will find out soon enough.’ The paladin pointed a threatening finger level with Kairos’s nose. ‘And remember this, Squire Azel. You cannot do anything without me knowing about it. I can hear a rat piss on cotton from a league away. Now get out of my sight, squire!’
‘Yes, sir!’ Kairos yelled, trying to hide his smile.
Another instructor who did not like him. But Kairos decided that he liked Sir Flain, and looked forward to tomorrow’s training session.
* * *
Two weeks had passed since the Mana Knight Academy started. Althea was wondering if she had made a mistake by joining.
Ever since she was a child, she had wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps. It was her dream. Her fantasy. But so far, the Knighthood had doomed her to disappointment. She had come here to become a Mana Knight, and what did she find? Waking up before dawn each day for gruelling training sessions in the cold, followed by long-winded lectures and tedious classwork. Mean and bullying instructors who belittled and yelled at her daily. Magical exercises that expected her to cast spells beyond her ability.
To make matters worse, the accommodation was lacking. She had to bathe in freezing water and the straw mattresses made her itch all over. The only reason she could fall asleep was due to sheer exhaustion from the constant activity.
She also became homesick. She missed her comfortable routine at home, and Stella’s cooking. She missed her fa
ther. She had not seen him for quite some time, but she had received a letter from him a week ago. He was still out in the field, fulfilling some unspoken quest. If he were at home, she would have quit the Academy right then and there to see him.
In fact, Althea had begun toying with the idea of quitting the first time she found a dead cockroach in her soup. When she reported the problem to the cooks, they laughed in her face. Her dejection increased each day. She wanted out. But what would her father say? Her peers would see her as a failure, of course, and the thought sickened her. She would leave in shame, but she could find another occupation, such as becoming a lecturer like Instructor Jomur. ‘For those who cannot do, they teach,’ she mused.
‘Althea!’
Kairos's shout snapped her out of her brooding thoughts. A rope with a large knot at the bottom swung to her. She was supposed to grab it with her hands, stand on the knot, and swing across the mud pit to the wooden platform on the other side. To her dismay, the rope had already started its return trip without her. With a yelp, she tried to snatch it. She managed to grab the knot with one hand, but she was unbalanced and the rope pulled her off of the platform she had been standing on. She lunged for the knot with her other hand and missed as her grip gave way. She cartwheeled into the thick mud, landing headfirst with a loud splat.
Althea frantically kicked with her legs until she flopped over onto her back. She spit out a mouthful of the filth and sat up in the squelching mud. Everyone was laughing at her. And in case anyone hadn't noticed her little tumble, Sir Flain made sure they were brought up to speed.
‘Why, Squire Avenal, I must say, that is an interesting technique for dismounting the rope swing obstacle! However, it did not achieve the stated objective of placing you on the opposite platform from your starting position. Or is this part of your cleverly devised two-step process to achieve the objective?’
Cursed Knight Page 20