by A. L. Knorr
I gave a nod as a collection of electronic punching pads slid from a panel to my left, making a semi-circular space for me to occupy. Taking the fighting stance I’d been taught in combat class, I fired a flurry of punches and kicks at the pads, trying, and failing, not to imagine Ryan’s face behind every impact. The dashboard beneath Alfred’s hands gave a succession of beeps as the PSI of each blow was tallied. I loaded my last punch and delivered a flying kick with everything I had, loosing a yell that hurt my throat. An enormous crack sounded through the gym. I paused with a gasp, leaning in to look at the neck supporting the panel. A hairline fracture had appeared in the structure.
I looked over at Basil, cringing. “Sorry.”
Basil frowned. “Never mind, carry on.”
Straightening, I called: “Quenching.”
Alfred put commands into the dashboard and whirring sound opened a panel which revealed five rounded metallic rods. As I watched, they fluctuated in color, three of them began to glow.
“Wait one moment,” Alfred said. Ten seconds later, he nodded. “Proceed.”
Touching the first one, I closed my eyes and drew the heat from the rod into my body. It traveled up my arm and into my fire where it was swallowed up. My flames snuffed the additional heat, keeping my core temperature regulated so I wouldn’t bank too much. When I removed my hand, the rod was perfectly cool.
I repeated the process with the next, and the next. I paused before I reached for the last one and withdrew, thinking. This rod was so bright it was hard to look at. Narrowing my eyes, I sent it a mental command to cool down. Waves of heat warped the air between the rod and me as I soaked the heat up telekinetically. The rod’s glow diminished rapidly, then went out. The waves of heat disappeared. Turning to face the professors, I said: “Melting and reconstruction.”
Walking over to where the hafnium basin had been lined with an assortment of metals, I studied them. I identified brass, manganese, nickel and thorium, and I proceeded to melt each one then coax it back into its original perfect sphere. By the time I was through, nearly twelve minutes had passed, but each sphere was as perfect as it had been before I started.
“Prescriptive combustion.” I faced Basil, whose expression was neutral.
Alfred nodded. He retrieved a wooden baseball bat and handed it to me.
At first I was puzzled. Then I found the small brass screw that had been buried near the handle. Taking a breath, I sent all of my concentration into the screw, funneling heat with all the control and precision of a dentist. One wrong move and I would light the bat on fire, or at the very least leave a charcoal mark. The brass shimmered and began to glow, then slowly softened enough to run down the grainy wood. Only laser focus kept the heat melting the metal from affecting the wood next to it. Cupping a hand underneath the molten brass, it pooled in my palm.
When the screw’s hole was empty, I set the bat down and turned my focus to the puddle in my palm. The reconstitution part of the exam had passed, but I fancied a go at the screw anyway. As my eyes drifted shut, I imagined the original shape of the screw, though I’d never seen the threads, only the heat. I did my best to coax the molten brass to congeal and reform as I cooled it. When the heat had drained out of it, I looked down.
I had reconstructed a nail, not a screw, but given I’d never tried it with anything more complicated that a sphere, I felt pretty good about my work. I couldn’t expect to master every skill with only a single semester under my belt. I set the nail on the edge of Alfred’s panel. A look passed between Alfred and Basil that I didn’t have time to identify.
“Snapping,” I announced. Cocking back an arm, I drew the fire within me taut like an elastic. Releasing the energy as I casually tossed a fireball into the air, there was first a crackling sound, like a sparkler, followed by a small explosion. A shower of sparks rained down onto the neoprene flooring. They bounced around and came to rest, winking out one by one.
“That is sufficient, Saxony,” Basil said. “Exam complete. Be at ease.”
I turned to him. “What about tele-combustion and fourth-degree ignition?”
“We don’t need to see those skills at this point. As it is, you’ve already overshot the aims for your first exam.” He gave Alfred a nod.
“Exam concluded.” Alfred made an adjustment to the board and then looked up, his expression pleased and relaxed. “We’ll examine the footage before finalizing your grade but obviously, you did well.”
“Thanks.” I went and retrieved my jacket. Pausing before heading to the door, I turned to look at Basil, heart thumping. Someone had to tell him what had gone down in his own school last night. My bet was that he hadn’t heard.
“I thought you should know that Ryan dumped April last night, both as an exam partner and as a girlfriend. He did it publicly and just before lights out, knowing she wouldn’t have time to recover or work with a new partner. He did it with the sole purpose of causing her enough emotional distress to guarantee she’d fail.”
Basil and Alfred stared at me, still as marble statues.
When neither of them responded, I went on, a hand cocked on one hip: “She’s totally crushed. You know better than me how important it is that she passes. All her hard work will go up in smoke, literally, thanks to R—”
“Thank you, Ms. Cagney.” Basil cut me off. “That’s enough.”
Alfred shot Basil a sideways glance before looking at me again, there was a thinly disguised shock there, I thought.
“Well?” I pushed, my tone firmly past the line of impudence. I was vaguely aware that I might regret this later, but I was too angry to care. “What are you going to do about it?”
“That’s. Enough.” The headmaster’s voice was firm and he put up a hand. “I was not aware. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. You will apologize for your insolence and remember yourself.”
Heart pounding, I gulped down my ire. “I apologize for my disrespect, Headmaster.”
Basil adjusted his glasses and nodded. “Quite alright. You are dismissed.”
Turning on my heel, I headed for the door without looking back, eyes rimmed with tears.
Thirty-Three
The First-Year Skills Exam
April and I met under the arch beside the outer set of double doors leading into the fire-gym. She looked like she’d lost weight since last night, though I didn’t think that was actually possible. Her colorless lips were set in a grim line. She hugged her water bottle like it was her only friend.
“How are you?” I put my hands on her upper arms.
“I’m alive.” She tried for a smile and didn’t quite make it. “How was your exam?”
“Don’t worry about that. Are you ready?”
She tried for a smile a second time and made a rictus of pain instead.
“Silly question. Come on, April. Let’s get you through this thing.” I turned her around and step-marched her through the double doors ahead of me.
As we passed into the fire-gym, the sounds of students yelling and flashes of fire as balls flew through the air bombarded my senses. With ten minutes to go before their exam, the first-years were taking every minute they had to prepare.
In the hour I’d been gone, the setup that had been there for my exam was gone, the modular equipment had been shifted around and reconstructed to form six stations in a honeycomb pattern. All the first-years would be tested at once and there was a professor monitoring each station. Guests and supporters from the second- and third-year population—who had their practicals this afternoon—watched from the perimeter.
We’d made it only a few steps when April did an about face and slammed into me.
“Ow. Where are you going?” I set her back and massaged my torso where my ribcage had bounced off hers. She was a bony one.
“I really can’t do this.” April dropped her gaze to the floor. “Please don’t make me.”
A quick glance at where Ryan was practically juggling fireballs and I understood. If he knew she was here, he di
dn’t show it. His eyes were on the fire in his hands as he manipulated it. Beyond him was Kendall, working on metastasis.
I focused on April. “Yes, you can. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes. They were dull and worried.
“Step one,” I told her, “take a big drink of water. That’s all you have to do in this moment.”
She twisted the lid off her bottle and took a few large swallows.
“Step two: approach the exam area.”
April shook her head.
I tried not to be exasperated. “Remember what Wanda said about the exam? It’ll be over quickly. You’re a first-year. This is the fastest and simplest exam you’ll ever have. Take it one moment at a time and before you know it, the moments will be over and you’ll be finished.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Turning away, she murmured, “One moment at a time.”
Heading for the perimeter of the closest ring, I thought I heard her add: “This is going to suck.”
I followed, thinking that her aim was to find a clear space where she could warm up, but she drifted on an angle toward a chair. Before I could stop her, she’d wilted into it and let her water bottle slide the floor.
I caught sight of blue hair in my periphery and waved at Kendall. He’d agreed to be April’s partner for foreign fire, but he’d not been happy about it. He nodded and let the glow in his hands go dark. Crossing the gym, he looked as serious as death.
He rubbed his mustache of sweat away as he looked down at her. “Hey, April, how you feeling?”
“I’m good,” she lied, getting to her feet like she was eighty-five.
I was proud of her for her answer. Atta girl, fake it til you make it.
Kendall looked to me as if to ask is she really? I gave him a nod and a confident smile. No need to give him more anxiety.
April knew what was expected of her. Showing mastery over your own fire was one thing, but sharing mastery with someone else was another thing entirely. The receiving and giving of foreign fire was supposed to help lay the foundation for the teamwork required in many industries including work at the agency, as often magi would be sent out in pairs.
“Everyone starts at the same time and moves clockwise,” Kendall was saying to April as he gestured at the stations. “I pulled our number, we begin at station three.”
April’s voice trembled and she repeated: “Three.”
“Three is quenching, melting and pitch,” Kendall clarified. It would have been supremely patronizing to say it to any other first-year, but April needed it.
“Quenching, melting and pitch,” she parroted.
Kendall sent me a look of thinly concealed alarm. All I could do was give him another confident smile and a thumbs up.
Kendall let out an exhale and continued. “We get four minutes per ring. Just stay calm and in control and we’ll be fine. Got it?” He put a hand out and touched her wrist where the skin was bare.
Watching his face for a reaction, I thought his countenance fell. Was that the first time he and April had ever made skin to skin contact? If he was hoping for a mage-bond but there wasn’t any, that would be disappointing.
“I’ll stay with you as support,” I told Kendall, picking up April’s water bottle.
“Is that allowed?” April grabbed my arm suddenly.
I nodded, patting her hand. “Spectators are permitted as long as they stay outside the rings,” I held up the bottle, “and have a purpose.”
Some of the students shuttled their own bottle from ringside to ringside, others had fellow students carry water for them, while yet others left off drinking until after the whole ordeal was over. The tolerance for the pain of dehydration was personal so it was mage’s choice.
“Go team awesome?” Kendall held a palm up to each of us.
April and I each gave him a high five. It felt the way high-fiving someone felt back at Saltford High, skin on skin, no heat. I made a mental tick in the back of my mind, Kendall was another student whom I could label bondless.
Kendall and April stepped inside the border marked on the floor around station three. Dr. Price took her place in between the blocks of modular equipment, tablet in hand.
An electronic chime went off and pairs of students moved into place with their partners. Spectators and assistants found a place at the perimeter to watch from.
A quick glance at station one showed that Ryan had dumped Jade for Tomio. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Ryan would do whatever he needed to in order to snare the only second-degree mage for his partner, but I was surprised to see that Tomio had agreed to it. Then again, Tomio’s partner had been Gage, maybe Ryan had manipulated the trade from his twin and Tomio hadn’t had a say. I just shook my head at the extent of Ryan’s selfishness.
After a short search, I located Jade standing inside station two with Alex. She always looked ticked off about something, truly defining ‘resting bitch face’, so if she was upset about Ryan betraying her, I had no way of knowing.
Gage was now partnered with Dar. From my vantage point I could make out just the top of Gage’s head over the bank of lockers as he waited at station five, foreign fire.
Basil approached the dais which had been erected outside the whole circuit. Climbing the steps so he was visible to everyone, he tapped on the small microphone pinned to his lapel. Thuds echoed through the gym and the tense murmur of talking vanished.
“Congratulations on completing your theoretical exams, first-years,” Basil’s electronically enhanced voice came through multiple speakers. “Good luck to each and every one of you for your last exam of the semester. I’ll take a moment to clarify the procedure, as I know from past experience that not everyone reads the overview thoroughly. Also, a small change to the process has been, which will be news, so please pay attention.”
There was a revival of tense murmurs for a brief moment at this.
“You’ll notice there are six stations and several of the thirteen skills you’ll be tested on have been consolidated. The chime will give you four minutes to show off your best work, and fifteen seconds to move between stations.”
Basil reviewed which skills would be tested at which station, although each station also had a sign above it to help students navigate.
“You’ll notice the foreign-fire station is number five and has no professor yet.” Basil nodded to where Gage and Dar stood waiting. “I’ll be manning that station myself. Everything will be recorded and the footage will be reviewed before the final grades will be given. In regards to the updated rule: I’ve heard reports of some upheaval among the teams. People changing partners last minute more than once.”
You could have heard a spider spinning a web between the ceiling rafters as Basil took a breath. April shot me a frightened look and began to chew her thumbnail.
“This is not the kind of behavior I expect and hope for from Arcturus students of any year. Thanks to these shenanigans, you will now be required to move through the circuit in the opposite direction of the partner you’ve chosen.”
More murmurs, louder this time. Basil put up a palm and waited until the chatter died down before continuing.
“By having to rotate contrary to one another, your partner for foreign fire will not be the person you’re standing with right now, but will instead be determined by the rotation.”
“That’s not fair!” Ryan yelled.
I couldn’t see him from my vantage point but he sounded so angry that I had to cover my lips in case I made an inappropriate face.
“Changing them at the last second means all the practice we’ve done together is meaningless.”
“Exactly,” the headmaster responded smoothly. “It’s leveling the playing field. Decide right now which of you will move clockwise and which will move counter-clockwise. You’ll still have only four minutes at each station to demonstrate your best work, including foreign fire. Try not to get in one another’s way, and good luck.” Basil stepped down from the platform nonch
alantly and moved to station five.
Heart pounding more than it had been for my own exam, I tried to do a quick calculation to figure out who April might meet at the foreign-fire station. I abandoned it when I realized there was no point, I didn’t know which students would move in which direction and once the exam started. A serious twang of nerves for April resounded in my stomach.
Kendall leaned toward her. “I’ll go counter-clockwise, you go clockwise.”
April looked at me over her shoulder, on the edge of panic.
“You can do this,” I called. “Twenty-four minutes and it’ll all be over. That’s all it is. Twenty-four minutes.”
“Twenty-four minutes,” April murmured, looking as though someone had just struck her across the back of the head. I saw her fingers tremble as she rubbed her hands together.
“Good luck,” I mouthed.
Kendall mouthed back: “Thanks.” He looked almost jolly. Of course. The change in procedure meant that he wouldn’t be partnering with April for foreign fire after all. He counted himself lucky.
Dr. Price stood opposite them with her tablet handy, watching with those sharp gray eyes, her silver bun pulled back tight along her skull.
The chime sounded. The exam had begun.
Kendall moved to the pitch dashboard while April crossed over to the hot objects she was required to quench. Quenching was easier for her than anything else since it didn’t require any use of fire, only her ability to draw heat into herself. I watched her put her hands on the hot spindles, one after the other, draining the temperature down to double digits. The numbers on the panels dropped steadily but not quickly. By the time April was on the last spindle, Kendall had already completed melting and pitch and had begun to quench the first spindle.
Leaving the last spindle to reheat for Kendall, April moved to the melting station where she was required to liquify three metal spheres. First-years had only to produce a maximum of 1000 degrees Fahrenheit. On a good day April could do it, but this wasn’t a good day. I couldn’t see into the basin where her hands were busy, so I shifted along the station, sending an apologetic look at Dr. Price and trying to be covert. A quick glance into the basin under April’s hands revealed three sad little lumps of half melted metal.