Althea was silent for many heartbeats. She didn’t deserve to be here, and she hoped that Flain’s wife hadn’t been watching from the afterlife, hearing all of those horrible things she had said about him. ‘Sir Flain, I don’t deserve to train here,’ she said finally.
‘Nonsense,’ he snapped. ‘Hilda would want this. You see, after all these years, I came to the realisation that she made me tend to this garden so I wouldn’t mope around after her death. I think she knew that I would take up healing to help others, and sure enough, I did. I became one of the few paladins in the Knighthood.’
‘Is that how you came to Valour Keep?’ Althea asked.
‘Yes, I came here as a healer,’ Flain said, then added brusquely, ‘Although I once again lost many flowers during the move. Still, I managed to save several lives with my healing spells here, including Sir Hugo’s. That’s why you need to study healing the appropriate way.’ He gave her a menacing look as he emphasised the latter part of the sentence. ‘I just wonder where you obtained knowledge on that spell you cast.’
If there was such thing as having a bucket of guilt, Althea’s would be overflowing by now. But for some reason, she could not bring herself to utter Argent’s name. The professor would face dire repercussions if word got out that he had given her access to forbidden magic.
‘Bah, there’s no need to say anything for now,’ Flain said. ‘We’re here to train.’
Guilt quickly changed to horror. ‘But Sir Flain, I don’t want to kill the flowers! You saw what happened at the star-apple orchard.’
‘And that won’t happen this time, I assure you,’ Flain growled.
‘But your wife’s flowers–’
Flain cut her off. ‘She would be happy knowing that her garden helped you train towards a greater cause. Now hurry. We have a lot of ground to cover and very little time until the Knight’s Test.’
The knight gestured to the daffodils. Though he appeared irritated, Althea saw something else in his eyes: concern.
‘Now cast the same elven glyph that you did at the grove,’ he ordered.
Althea turned inward, to the very core of her being, and traced the forbidden glyph. She silently vowed to be as delicate as possible. Feel the energy. Do not force it!
As the spell took effect, small tendrils of mana rippled faintly around her. She grasped towards the direction of the Ordonian daffodils – gently, taking care to not harm them – and allowed a trickle of the mana to flow into her being. This time was different to the last. Instead of ‘ripping’ the mana from her surroundings, she felt a sense of harmony.
‘Go easy,’ Flain urged. ‘Now trace the next glyph and return the mana.’
Althea’s senses sharpened to where she could feel every petal, the pollen, and the dew on the flowers. She traced the glyph and a soothing wave flowed from her back into the daffodils, taking her breath away. She slumped forward and panted.
The transfer was complete.
Althea raised her head, feeling quite drained. Perhaps she had made a mistake. ‘How was it?’ she asked.
Flain nodded approvingly. Another rarity for Althea. ‘Well done, Avenal. You’re a quick learner.’
‘What’s next, then?’ asked Althea. She was tired. It was late. She had fought hobs, drained herself with magic, and came to the Gauntlet for a tongue-lashing from Flain. She wanted nothing more than sleep.
‘We train some more,’ barked Flain, taking on the commanding voice he used for class. ‘Now cast it again. This is your punishment detail.’
* * *
It was early morning in late spring. Too early.
The squires peered bleary-eyed at the bundle of sealed letters on a table in the training hall. The very sight jerked most of them awake. Those squires knew that, rolled up and bound together by a wax seal, with the crystal emblem of the Mana Knights imprinted on it, their fate awaited. Others, like Kairos and Shah, were ignorant of the fact and stared sleepily ahead, annoyed at the early morning interruption.
Sir Flain stood next to the desk and addressed the class.
‘As you all know, not everyone can be a Mana Knight. Few have the strength of character to even try. Many with the strength still don’t finish training. Even some who finish are deemed, for one reason or another, to be unfit for final testing.’
He scanned the gathered squires, making eye contact with each one of them.
‘Shortly you will each receive a letter – either a letter of invitation to the Trial of the Chair, or a letter of dismissal.’ Several squires murmured and shuffled their feet. Sir Flain glowered and continued on more loudly. ‘Understand that dismissal at this point is not a reflection on your character or ability. It is strictly for your safety. If you are dismissed this morning, you are to pack your belongings and move out of the recruit barracks by this afternoon.’
A solemn air descended upon the gathered squires. Most looked glum. Shah yawned, looked around, saw the serious expressions on his classmates’ faces, and took on what he believed to be a stern expression.
‘Is there a problem, Squire Shah?’ Flain asked, noticing the squinted face. ‘You look like you need a latrine break.’
‘No, sir!’ Shah barked.
Flain continued, ‘If you receive your letter of invitation, you must schedule your test with Sir Agama, who will conduct the Trial of the Chair. You must be tested within three days from today. Deciding not to do so will be taken as a sign of your resignation.’
He held up a sealed letter and announced, ‘Squire Carrow.’
Claudius straightened, pompous and smug, and walked forward to retrieve his letter. Upon returning to his place, the squire broke the wax seal and opened it. He gave no reaction, only stared at the letter quietly. One by one, the rest of the squires followed when their name was called.
‘Squire Azel!’ Flain shouted. ‘Are you listening?’
‘S-sir!’
Kairos’s thoughts swirled as he stepped forward. He knew failure during the Trial of the Chair meant death. That was what ‘for your safety’ meant. He knew his letter could only be a letter of dismissal. But how could he help the Einar if he didn’t test? And, if he did test, how could his death help anyone?
‘Squire Azel, kindly approach any day now, take your letter, fall back into your position, and then you can continue to look like a poleaxed grass carp. A few more people, the entirety of the class, in fact, would like to receive their letters so that they may get on with their lives,’ said Sir Flain.
Everyone was looking at Kairos.
‘Sorry, Sir Flain.’ Kairos hurried to collect his letter. He didn’t open it. Why even bother?
* * *
‘I’m thinking of testing tomorrow,’ Althea said to Kairos later that day.
They sat in straight-backed, wrought iron chairs outside the barracks, and avoided talking about the ones who had been dismissed.
Claudius had already packed all of his belongings. Kairos decided he wouldn’t miss him. Another squire he didn’t really know was gone, too. He thought her name was Le’Anna Verdona. He wasn’t sure.
‘Well? When are you testing?’
‘I…’ Kairos shifted uncomfortably before continuing. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t opened my letter yet.’ He produced the letter, showing Althea the unbroken wax seal as proof. He didn’t meet her stare.
‘Why ever not?’
‘Because it’s a letter of dismissal.’
‘How would you know that?’
‘Because I know it’s a letter of dismissal!’ He stood and paced with frustration. ‘I can’t be a Mana Knight.’
‘Kairos, I don’t understand,’ said Althea, now looking considerably concerned and visibly upset. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Would you quit asking me questions? I told you that I can’t be a Mana Knight. Look – I have no mana.’
There. He’d said it. He had finally let it out. No more harbouring secrets. Now she would know that he was god-cursed, and hate him for being a liar.
Althea looked around. No one was within earshot. ‘Well maybe you had better explain to me,’ she said more quietly.
‘Did I ever tell you where I come from?’ Kairos didn’t wait for her answer. He knew he hadn’t told her. He leant in closer. ‘I am an Einar. From across what you call the Dark Sea. That is why everyone here thinks my accent is strange and different. It’s because I am different. To you Ordonians, I’m quite big, tall, and fit. Amongst the Einar, I’m scrawny – ‘the runt of the litter’, as you would say.’
Althea blinked. She looked stunned by this new information. Kairos forged ahead.
‘Shortly after coming here, I took the Badger’s Trial. Professor Argent told me that I’m god-cursed. I can’t cast spells because of it. I don’t have mana because of it.’ He paused. ‘That’s why I cannot be a Mana Knight.’
‘And it’s not just me,’ Kairos continued. ‘No other Einar can use magic. The first time I witnessed this miracle was when I came to this land – this beautiful land full of greenery and life. I’ve also learnt that people like me are called the god-cursed. And after seeing your people cast miracle after miracle, I believe it. Your land and people are thriving while mine are dying. Maybe that is why Malus and his men attacked us. Maybe that is why they are trying to kill me – because I am cursed. I’ve brought nothing but misfortune since coming here.’
There was a long moment of silence. Kairos felt a strange sense of calm after telling his story, as if a suffocating pressure had dissipated. Even in his melancholy, his breathing became easier. Althea regarded Kairos with a look of horrified wonder.
‘I see.’ Her expression suddenly changed to indignant. ‘You idiot! Are all Einar so stupid? You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier?’
Kairos regarded her in astonishment. Of all the possible reactions Althea could have had, this wasn’t one he had prepared for. ‘Well, no! I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘I’m not anyone!’ Althea seethed. ‘You should have known you could trust me!’
‘Galen told me not to tell anyone.’
At the mention of her father’s name, Althea grew quiet. ‘He said that?’
‘Yes. I wanted to tell you a long time ago.’
She punched him in the arm. He grunted for her benefit. ‘You still could’ve told me. Father is not always right, you know.’
‘Well, now I have. What are we going to do?’
She smiled softly before smoothing her features. ‘First, we’re going to open your letter.’ He held it up. Althea took it and broke the seal.
She read the letter quickly, gravely. Kairos didn’t breathe. She lowered the letter, serious eyes meeting his. ‘I don’t know why I’m still amazed by how much of a fool you are.’
Kairos stared back.
She showed him the letter and said excitedly, ‘You made it – you’re in!’
Kairos blinked, and snatched the letter back. ‘Let me see. That’s not possible.’
‘Well, it says so,’ Althea stated. ‘They know what they’re doing. They may not know your background, but they know you’re the proper material for becoming a Mana Knight. And so do I. Now let’s get you scheduled with Sir Agama to be tested.’
For the first time since he had crossed the sea, Kairos’s spirits soared. Elation and hope bubbled inside him for once—elation he did not deserve. Many lives had been sacrificed so he could get this far: Thylar, Karthok, Farina, and the entire crews of the Wolf Fang, Sea Serpent, and Grenda. He dared not let them down now, leave their sacrifices in vain.
‘There is one thing I’m curious about,’ Althea said, pulling him from his reverie. ‘I have seen you cast spells in class.’
‘You’re right,’ Kairos agreed. ‘I did.’
‘They were fire spells to be exact,’ Althea observed. ‘Quite a number of them, actually. They always came from that shoddy-looking staff.’
‘They did.’ He looked sidelong at Althea. ‘Are you ready for it?’
For the first time since Stella’s death, Althea began to laugh. Joyous laughter full of mirth and merriment bubbled up. When she caught her breath long enough to speak, she started laughing again. ‘I am,’ she said, ‘though I’m sure Jomur wouldn’t be too pleased that you duped him for so long.’
‘Gnome powder.’ Kairos pretended he was holding the staff and performed a demonstration. ‘Mr. Dubose gave me the staff, and he placed triggers on it that detonated the charges.’
‘And he made the glove that helped you draw glyphs,’ Althea finished for him.
‘Yes.’ Kairos grinned. ‘Tricked you all this time, didn’t I?’
‘Me and the whole lot of ’em!’ said Althea, laughing some more.
Chapter eleven
Trial and Test
In order to become a Mana Knight, a squire of the Academy must take the Knight’s Test, which is divided into two phases: The Trial of the Chair, and the Test of Valour. Failure of either phase can result in the death of the squire, but that is the risk the Knighthood imposes to weed out the weak and the corrupt.
The History of the Mana Knights’, Sir Edwin Rosal
K
airos swallowed hard. He stood in a large chamber on the highest floor of the tallest tower of Valour Keep. Two other squires accompanied him: Vaughn and Shah. They all wore the ceremonial robes that was mandatory for testing. Before them was a chair made of orichalcum, and above them was the Sapphire Shard.
They were the last of the squires to take the Trial of the Chair. The others had already taken it, and everyone so far had passed and was awaiting further instructions. Kairos and Vaughn stared wide-eyed and awed around the chamber. Only Shah seemed oblivious of his surroundings, his feverish gaze focused solely on the chair.
The chamber was an eerie place. Eddies of magic pulsated and swirled about the room in a spectacular show, accentuated by an occasional flare from the Sapphire Shard. The squires could feel the intensity of the magic energy, and Kairos was almost brought to his knees in such a raw display of power. The other knights had told them that the energy came directly from the godshard, which was suspended directly above, but that knowledge provided little comfort to the squires.
The power of a fallen god awed and frightened them, as was evident in Vaughn’s pallor and Shah’s uncontrollable shaking. Kairos knew that the godshard, which glowed a bright sapphire colour, was part of Zemus’s essence. Gazing about the room in wonder, he wondered if the god was even dead. He felt that the energy could coalesce back into the god’s form at any moment and come to life. Even the room felt alive.
The older, more experienced knights who administered the annual Trial had grown accustomed to vibrant strands of magic that flowed unchecked around them. One of knights in attendance was Sir Flain, who consulted with another knight, Sir Agama, for preparations, and several others, whom Kairos did not know, assisted. There were no instructors or professors here, as the Knighthood did not allow non-knights to enter the chamber.
The three squires stood, waiting for what they hoped would be the beginning of their new lives as a Mana Knight. They tried not to think that it might be the last day of their lives.
When one of the magical eddies collided with the chair, causing a brief flash coupled with a loud crackling sound, Shah jumped, with the flailing of white robes, and let out a high-pitched squeal.
‘Hush!’ Sir Flain’s voice was booming and echoing in the chamber.
‘D-d-do people die in that chair?’ Shah asked in a quivering voice, oblivious to Sir Flain’s command.
‘Yes, Squire Shah, people sometimes die in the Trial of the Chair.’ Sir Flain said with a sigh. ‘It has been a few years since anyone died, though. We have long disallowed the unqualified from taking the Test – to prevent unnecessary deaths – but that doesn’t mean a few slip through the cracks. I’ve been through the Trial. Every Mana Knight in existence has been through the Trial.’
Shah was not satisfied with the answer. ‘Sir Flain, what does the chair actually do?’
&n
bsp; Sir Flain’s face became a blank mask. Kairos knew this meant he was irritated, but not yet enough to start yelling.
‘The chair has abilities beyond our understanding,’ Flain said tersely. ‘Some speculate that it judges one’s life as a whole. Those who live good, honourable, and righteous lives will survive.’ He shrugged. ‘Those who do not, will die. It is the only way to become a Mana Knight. No one will be forced to undergo the Trial of the Chair. When it is your turn, you either take the Trial, risking death, or you do not, and are expelled from the Mana Knight Academy.’ Shah was about to ask another question, but Flain cut him short. ‘We have been through all of this in class. Expulsion is permanent, Squire Shah.’
Shah bit his lip. He was sweating profusely now.
Sir Flain’s gaze lingered on him, and after a moment, the paladin decided to elaborate – one more time – for the benefit of the squire. ‘I want to stress that expulsion in this manner is not considered a black mark on your record. It’s not easy to face death. No one will think less of you.’
‘B-b-but is this actually n-necessary?’ Shah asked. ‘I-I mean, I lived a good, and honourable, and righteous life. I’ve never stolen anything. I don’t see why–’
Kairos elbowed Shah in the side. One of the veins on Flain’s neck began bulging out, and Kairos wondered if the paladin was about to murder the bumbling squire before he had a chance to sit in the chair.
Sir Flain took a deep breath. ‘If you must know, Squire Shah, the Trial of the Chair not only judges you, but it gives out your next quest: the Test of Valour. That quest is more dangerous, resulting in more deaths than the chair.’ Anticipating another question from Shah, Flain hurriedly answered, ‘It is necessary, Squire Shah, as your quest is decided by a higher power than what we mortals can provide. It has been this way for centuries. You may consider this a blessing, as it removes all decisions of politics that are commonly associated with mortals. This has been ordained by the founder, Grandmaster Burise.’
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