The Black Mage: Apprentice

by Rachel E. Carter

  "I'm sorry I hurt you." I forced myself to speak. "You deserved much better than me, in any case."

  "For what it's worth, I really thought the prince cared. I know what I said, but at the time I was just trying to hurt you."

  "Well, it looks like we were both wrong." I wonder, I thought, what it means that I chose someone as cold as Darren over someone as kind as you?

  The Combat mage held up his drink. "A toast to better love in our futures."

  I joined him. "May the ones we love, love us much better."

  Silence.

  Then: "Have you received any offers?"

  "A personal request from Commander Chen in Langli. Apparently my performance in the port's mock battle impressed him."

  "Are you going to take the position?"

  "I already have. He was at the feast earlier when I accepted."

  "You'll have good company." I smiled. "There's a mage who goes by Andy in their regiment. She's got the same humor and reckless disregard for authority you and I share. And you'll like Cethan, too. I served with him during that mission. He's a quiet brute, but he's steady."

  Ian took another sip of his drink thoughtfully. "Where do you think you'll end up?"

  "Wherever they'll have me."

  Ian gave me a strange look. "Ryiah, you and Darren are the top of your year. You'll have commanders lining up to beg you. Don't forget it was your pain casting that won two mock battles, and you've still got another year to add another victory to your belt."

  "I won't get any good offers when Byron gives me my ranking. Even if I am second only to Darren – which I'm not sure that I am - it doesn't mean much if I am at the bottom of the list during the ceremony. Byron despises you but he still gave Lynn the worst rank because she's a girl. Everyone knows the two of you should have placed first and second. Me? I'm a girl and he hates me – I'll be dead last in a procession of six."

  Ian shrugged. "It won't matter. It didn't for me. Chen didn't choose me because I placed fourth, he chose from what he saw when I trained in Langli."

  I sighed. "Well then, I definitely won't be stationed near you. We lost the mock battle that year – and Ella and I were the ones to cause it."

  Ian gave me a crooked smile. "I guess not. But I'm certain tonight won't be the last time we cross paths. The Candidacy is only two years away. Maybe we'll finally get to have our duel? I know you've been dying to test your prowess in an arena. We are each one of the best in our years, after all. Who knows which one of us would win?"

  I lifted my mug. "To our future match."

  Ian winked. "To my beating you."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In the four years since I had walked through the Academy's doors, I had come a long way from the girl who had struggled to cast a tree limb on fire. Unfortunately, my first day in Ferren's Keep did not attest to that… I was too busy counting down the hours until I could see a certain young man with dancing blue eyes and blonde curls that was three years my junior.

  "Apprentice Ryiah, if you fancy my lessons pleasant enough to daydream in, then clearly I have been too soft on you. This is the third time today your head has been in the clouds. One week polishing the regiment's armory starting tomorrow - and if I catch you at it again I will not hesitate to triple your time!"

  Of course he wouldn't, the old crow.

  Ella elbowed me lightly in the stomach and I gave her a helpless shrug as soon as Master Byron's back was turned.

  "Pay attention!" she hissed. "You really don't want to spend the next year scrubbing mail, do you?"

  Another voice chimed in. "Yes, and I will never forgive you for jeopardizing my training, Ryiah!"

  I glared at the sour-faced boy in front of me. Another of Priscilla's bratty cousin Merrick's fourth-year friends. Not once had I been bestowed with a sweet-faced mentee to train.

  Byron had undoubtedly chosen this one on purpose.

  I made a face. "Your training was already jeopardized long before you met me, Radley."

  The rest of the day's lessons finished with much difficulty on my end. My overconfident mentee had a flagrant disregard for all of Byron's cautionary measures and I spent a good amount of time nursing injuries when he went too far in his castings. Especially during the final drill.

  Radley still seemed to think the only thing that mattered in pain casting was power. Which meant that he didn't bother to practice any semblance of control.

  I had to remind myself that revenge was less important than performance. I needed to spend my final year carefully crafting my own pain castings. I had improved greatly over the last four, but so had Darren and Eve - and I so desperately wanted to excel in something.

  I was tired of being third in everything, and I would have been lying if I didn't admit it would be nice to watch the look on the prince's face when he lost. Someone needed to knock Darren off that pedestal - he'd been enjoying its light for far too long. It was time for someone else to shine and I wanted it to be me.

  I could have sent my ungrateful mentee flying into the tall pines behind us, but I chose to focus my energies on a carefully exerted force. Stop and start, change direction, send my crackling lightning flying to the side only just in time – all from a small blade's pressure on my forearm.

  I glanced to watch Darren with Merrick. He and Ray were sharing the same mentee this year. Another stark clash of light and the familiar smell of burning wood where his bolt landed just inches from mine. Was that deliberate? I stared at the prince and saw a small upturn at the corner of his mouth. He was trying hard not to smirk, but I knew, I just knew, that he had done that last casting on purpose.

  I straightened and prepared for a cut that would show that smug non-heir exactly who he was going up against… and then stopped myself. What am I doing? I didn't let Radley's castings get to me so I certainly wasn't going to let Darren's.

  Me. This year is about me. I took a deep breath and focused on imitating my last casting, flexing my magic as I pulled back a second sooner. Perfect. Now just ten more minutes and we would be dismissed.

  And then I could finally seek out the one person I had been looking forward to.

  ****

  "Is this what my no good brother has become? A soldier who falls asleep at pubs?"

  Derrick's head shot up with a start and I laughed as the drink he had been resting beside spilled all over his table. "Ry!" He was out of his stool in a second.

  Laughing, I embraced my younger brother, who had grown even taller in my absence. And bigger. He now carried twice as much muscle and my head only went up to his chin. When he released me I stepped back in shock.

  "You're huge!"

  One of the soldiers who had been sitting next to Derrick choked on his roast. "They feed us well. And this one has an appetite. He won a contest against everyone else in our station."

  Just like Alex, I thought wryly. Some things never change.

  "Did you just arrive today?" Derrick dragged me over to an empty chair.

  "We did." I grinned. "I rode all night to get here."

  "By the gods, Ry, Ferren's Keep is a good three hours from Tijan! You are mad! Weren't you riding two straight weeks before this?"

  I waved his shock away. "It was worth it to see my favorite brother."

  Derrick grinned, dimples forming at the corner of his cheeks. "You are such a bad liar, Ry. You only say that now because Alex is nowhere in sight… Where is that lug anyway? Why isn't he here visiting me with you?"

  "He's coming tomorrow. He told me to tell you there was no way he was going to spend another night in the saddle." I snorted. "He had really bad sores from this last ride in the mountains and unlike us, he's not exactly warrior bred."

  Derrick snickered. "Trust Alex to become a healer. That's about as dandy as it gets."

  I yawned. "We shouldn't mock our poor brother just because he likes to be comfortable. I don't know about you, but there are certainly days I dream of leaving Combat behind and taking up something easier instead."

>   "But you never would."

  "No. But it's a nice fantasy. Especially when Byron spends all his time ripping me apart."

  "Is he worse than Sir Piers?"

  "You have no idea." I took a bite of my brother's dinner, or what was left of it. "Besides, Piers always believed in me. Byron is just looking for ways to make me quit."

  "Our commander out here is like that. But I think it's because he cares and doesn't want to see us unprepared."

  "Byron doesn't care if I'm prepared or not, he just wants me gone."

  "Surely he's like that with everyone?" That question came from one of Derrick's female comrades.

  I smiled weakly. "Only the women. And one of my friends when he was with us. But, no, it's mostly me. The master loathes me."

  Derrick looked amused. "Because you are stubborn."

  I sighed. "Because I am everything he hates - but enough about my miserable existence, let's hear what life is like for a soldier in Tijan. How has the action been up north?"

  I must have asked the right question because the next thing I knew, every single soldier in the place was bellowing over the other to tell me their wildest stories since coming into service. My brother and his cohorts had had quite the adventure in the year since they started and some of the older men had tales as far back as twenty.

  I spent the rest of the evening listening to tales about Caltothian skirmishes and the pranks the soldiers liked to play against one another in their down time. It was nice to see how happy Derrick was with his new friends. While a soldier's life was certainly challenging, they clearly knew how to smile at the end of a long day.

  Much glory was given to the mages, but it was the soldiers who were always the first line of defense. It was a fact I had tried not to ponder too heavily when I thought about Derrick. Especially when I remembered that he was stationed along the border where most of the fighting took place. Neither he nor his comrades seemed too concerned, or if they were afraid, they hid it well. But I worried. Because that was the only thing a big sister could do.

  Still, it was meant to be an evening of festivity, not solace. My brother was one of the best in his year, and he was not a fool. He would be smart about any action he took and I knew he trusted me to do the same. I forced myself to smile and enjoy the rest of the night.

  By the time I finally said my goodbyes and saddled my horse, it was easily two hours past midnight. I was fighting sleep and not looking forward to the three-hour trek back to Ferren's Keep. But if I missed the morning warm ups with the regiment, Byron would notice, and then I would be stuck cleaning the armory for the rest of my apprenticeship. So it was one night without rest, or ten months of polishing armor. I chose the former.

  I just hoped the next day would carry on much faster than the first.

  ****

  "You feeling alright, Ryiah?"

  I just shook my head and then laid it back on the table while the others continued their morning meal.

  "She didn't get any sleep." Ella patted my back sympathetically. "I don't think it agreed with her."

  "Derrick and his friends kept her that late? That oaf should have sent her on her way after an hour," Alex declared.

  "I wanted to see him," I mumbled without raising my head. If I did, the room would start to spin and then I'd be right back where I started.

  "A lot of good that did you."

  "I only have to get through the rest of practice and then I'll get to sleep."

  "You forgot the armory," Ella reminded me.

  I groaned. Why did Byron have to hate me so much?

  After the second bell I followed Ella out of the dining commons to Combat's training grounds with a quick departing wave to my twin. Ferren's Keep, like the other three cities we had trained in, was as different as could be. Which meant, of course, that our training was different as well – though how just how different, I hadn't expected.

  First things first, the keep was actually inside a giant fortress built into one of the Iron Mountains. Like Ishir Outpost, the rock city provided a safe refuge for its inhabitants, but it had the added bonus of a dense forest and raging river just south of it.

  The fortress was as large as the king's palace in Devon with a similar wall guarding its face. The fortress hosted row after row of sentry posts and a high tower to its north. Add to that an endless supply of lookouts and a guard at every possible entrance to monitor the people's coming and goings and it was easy to see why our training focused on defense instead of what we were used to, the attack.

  "The balance of power favors the defender." That was the first thing Commander Nyx said when we arrived. "This keep is impenetrable so long as our regiment continues to make it so."

  During our non-magic drills, we spent a good deal of time running back and forth along the narrow sentry wall, taking turns with our partner as one attempted to scale it while the other employed various techniques to hold them off.

  Those "techniques" had included longbows and crossbows – the two favorite weapons of the keep's regiment, whose main role was servicing the wall as a sentry.

  We also trained with knives since they were easy to carry during a climb.

  Then we practiced loading and unloading the heavy catapults, and then took turns aiming heavy piles of rock at landmarks below.

  The last exercise was the worst, I was quick to discover. I was already so tired from a lack of sleep and the morning warm-up. By the time we had started the catapults, my arms were shaking so badly I dropped two large stones I was carrying. The second time, one landed on my right foot. I spent the rest of practice limping through my drills. Byron, of course, had deemed my injury "not serious enough" to warrant a trip to the infirmary.

  At the end of practice I chanced a peek under my boot to see how "serious" my foot really was and shuddered at the spotted purple and red bruise in its place.

  "Where did you get that little nasty from?"

  I turned my head and realized a woman with short-cropped blonde hair was staring at me and the foot cradled in my hands. I immediately dropped it. She had steel gray eyes and a permanent frown. Which meant only one person: Commander Nyx.

  I instantly felt myself go red with embarrassment. The last thing I wanted was the leader of Ferren's Keep's regiment to consider me soft.

  Especially if I wanted a chance of being offered a post next year.

  The commander stepped forward, still squinting at me. "It was the catapults, wasn't it?"

  I nodded mutely.

  "If you have time to swing by my chambers during lunch, I've got some bruise balm for it. I tend to keep some on hand whenever the squires or apprentice mages are stationed here. Someone always manages to drop those rocks at least once a day for the first week or two."

  Was she really this nice, or was it a test to see if I was weak-willed enough to accept her help? I'd heard rumors about how Nyx got her post… You had to be a very tough sort of woman to beat out hundreds of other knights for Jerar's highest position up north.

  I decided I didn't want her aid either way. Alex had helped me that second year back in Ishir, but that had been for a broken arm - not a bruise. What was Byron always saying? "Pain is how we build strength." Well, I could certainly use some after today.

  "I'll be just fine, but thank you for the kind offer."

  The woman cracked a toothy smile. "Wise choice. I've offered it to two others so far and you are the first to turn me down. I can't respect anyone who coddles themselves."

  A wave of relief washed over me. I would not be one of those people she marked off her list for potential service, at least not yet. "Who were the other two?"

  She chuckled. "Check the dining commons. Byron and I have a little game we play every time he brings his apprentices to my keep. I give him the name of any apprentices foolish enough to accept the help I offer and then he orders them a week without rations to help them build their resistance to pain. It saves my cook's stores as well, so it's win-win."

  I was doubly gla
d I had refused her offer. One night without sleep and a throbbing foot was bad enough; I did not need to withstand a week of starvation as well.

  "Be sure to tell Byron I refused your offer, he doesn't like me much," I told her. It was reckless, but I felt a lit bit braver now that I hadn't fallen for her hoax.

  Commander Nyx's eyes crinkled. "He doesn't like me much either, but his methods work. Have no fear, apprentice, I'll make sure to put in a good word… What is your name?"

  "Ryiah."

  "Well, Ryiah, welcome to Ferren's Keep."

  ****

  In the next couple of days, three more Combat apprentices went a week without meals as our training got more intense and they caved to Nyx and Byron's scheme. I had been delighted, at first, to find out Radley was one of them. But then he became more nasty than usual and it was even harder to resist casting him off the steep forest backdrop behind us. I became so consumed with fighting off my growing dislike for my mentee that I almost forgot about Darren.

  Until the afternoon I ran into him and Priscilla arguing quietly outside the men's barracks. The girl was clutching a letter in one hand and brandishing her fist with the other. I heard her shout "Shina" before I turned heel and left. I didn't want to hear anything else. I didn't need to.

  When I ran into Darren later that day I avoided his gaze. I was sad and upset, and I wasn't sure which one was worse. Depressed that I still wasn't over him? Or angry that I really hadn't known him at all?

  For a while last year, I had entertained the notion that maybe the prince did care. I'd told myself his father forbade him. Threatened his life even. Poor Darren, he'd had no choice in the matter. He loved me, but he'd been powerless to stop his family.

  But that dream had not reconciled with his words at the Academy and the fight on the night of Ian's ascension ceremony. Darren hadn't been afraid to disobey the king then. No, he had openly fought for the princess he wanted and tried to make himself his father's heir. That Darren was fearless, and not the least influenced by what his vile family said.