Ebon sighed and drew the wooden rod, handing it over. Kalem took a deep breath. His eyes glowed, and under his fingers, the rod turned to stone. He blinked, and it returned to wood.
“There. Did you feel it this time?”
Kalem had told him that wizards could sense other wizards using their spells if the magic was of an aligned branch. Weremagic and alchemy worked in tandem, he said, as did mindmagic with firemagic. Ebon could sense when a weremage or another alchemist was using their powers. Now, as he often had before, Ebon could feel a tingling on his neck and a turned stomach when Kalem transformed the rod. But it was no more help than it had been before.
“I sensed it, yes. But I still do not see how that helps.”
“The feeling it gives you—try to emulate it. Try to recapture it when you cast your spell.”
Ebon rolled his eyes and took the road. He tried to do as Kalem asked, picturing the tingling on the back of his neck and the vague roiling of his stomach. But that only distracted him from seeing the wood for what it truly was. Nothing happened to his eyes, and he soon cast the rod aside in frustration.
“It is no use. When I focus on the sensation, I lose sight of the rod, and when I think of the rod, I cannot think of the sensation.”
“Just focus upon them both. It is quite easy.”
Ebon thrust a finger under his nose. “If you tell me, even once more, that it is easy, I will—”
Kalem smiled and touched Ebon’s robe. The whole sleeve turned to iron, and at the sudden change in weight, Ebon tipped over out of his chair. He yelped as he landed hard on his arm—but, as it was encased in metal armor, it did not hurt as badly as it might have.
“Change it back,” he growled.
Kalem sighed and did as he asked. “Ebon, you grow frustrated too easily. A calm mind is the best facilitator of magic.”
“I have few places to find calm in my life.”
“Then I hope you are resigned to a life without spells,” said Kalem with a shrug. “Because that is all you will ever have. When you struggle to clear your mind, let this encourage you: if you master yourself, wizardry will follow swiftly. Then all the physical world will be at your command; you will control earth, buildings, even the oceans and the winds. Is that not worth learning to cast aside fear and doubt?”
“What do you mean, the oceans and the winds? Those spells are of mind magic.”
“Elementalism, Ebon. You could at least pretend that proper terms matter to you, for I can assure you they matter to everyone else.”
“Elementalism, then,” said Ebon through gritted teeth. “But you have not answered my question.”
Kalem seemed to take this as an apology, for he nodded magnanimously. “I do not speak of elementalist spells like summoning water and wind. Those depend on motion. Our magic is the magic of change. You can turn water to oil easily enough. One day you will learn to change the air as well.”
Ebon’s curiosity was piqued. He had never thought of this before, nor seen an alchemist at the school do it. “How? What can you do with the air?”
“Some simple things,” Kalem said with a shrug. “They teach more advanced spells in the next class. But I have learned the spell to make mist.”
“Can you show me?”
Kalem looked surprised and more than a little pleased. He crossed his legs beneath him, and after a moment his eyes began to glow. Before Ebon’s eyes, a mist seemed to spring out of nowhere, but as he looked closer he could see it emanating away from Kalem’s body. Soon it filled the space all around them, spreading further and further until it reached the library’s railing. The mist grew thicker and thicker, until Ebon could not see more than a few paces in any direction.
“That is all I can do for now,” said Kalem. “My instructor says he could fill the entire Academy with fog, if he so chose. I do not know if I believe that, but then again, it is a very simple spell.” He blinked, and the glow faded from his eyes. The mists rushed back and vanished, and the air was clear again.
“That is wondrous,” said Ebon. “I would give much to be able to cast such a spell.” He felt his own lack like an ache in his heart.
“You will learn it. In fact, it seems simpler to me than turning wood to stone. Air is a very simple thing. Not like wood.”
“Mayhap I could try it,” said Ebon.
Kalem looked uncomfortable. “I am not sure that is wise. They teach us our spells in a certain order, and they do so for a reason.”
“What reason? If I can make mist, why should I not try it? Mayhap it will turn my mind towards other spells—even the spell for stone.”
“Mayhap,” said Kalem. “I suppose I cannot see the harm in it …”
Ebon closed his eyes and tried to envision the air around him. He spread his fingers until he could feel its coolness on his skin. At first he felt no different. Then he remembered how it felt when he turned water to oil. He did not picture the water in his mind so much as he saw it through his fingers. He tried it now, and soon it was as though he could see the air’s tiny currents as they wove about him. He opened his eyes and focused. To his delight, the world brightened, and he knew his eyes were glowing. Thin wisps of mist sprang into being, twisting in little spirals about his fingers.
Joy shot through him, joy strong enough to break his concentration. The glow died, and the mists vanished. But rather than disappointment, he only felt his joy increase until he laughed out loud. “I did it!”
Kalem’s grin matched his own. “You did at that. That seemed to come to you easily.”
Ebon studied his fingers closely. He still felt that he could see the air’s currents. “It was so much easier than the wood. I could see it as plain as the floor beneath my feet.”
“As I said, air is simple. But still, even I did not learn mist so quickly. You should be proud.”
“Have you ever used it? It seems to me that mists would be a powerful spell for sneaking about.”
Kalem’s face fell, and he looked to the ceiling as though for help. “Sky save me. Of course you would immediately think of how to use it for mischief.”
Ebon gave his shoulder a little push. “Oh, calm yourself. I have no schemes to sneak about the Academy and wreak havoc. At least, not yet.”
“You would find it a hard prospect even if you did. Any alchemist or weremage would sense what you were doing and put a stop to it.”
“Transmuter or therianthrope, Kalem,” said Ebon, wagging a finger in admonishment. “Honestly, you could at least pretend that proper terms matter.”
Kalem scowled.
THE DISCOVERY OF A NEW spell, and one that actually seemed useful, filled Ebon’s days with joy. Whenever he could, he practiced spinning his mists. When he grew bored in Credell’s class, in between reading books in the library, in the common room outside his dormitory—all were perfect opportunities to steal away by himself and practice. And now he found himself wondering what else he might be able to learn. Suddenly his wooden rod seemed utterly unimportant. Oh, certainly he would need to turn it to stone one day—but why worry over it now, when he could learn other spells instead?
But not all his time was so joyous. Every so often, thoughts crept in of the parcel he had delivered for Mako and his father. Despite sharing his worries with Adara, and the conversations he had had with Kalem and Theren, he could not help but wonder what he was now involved in. If indeed he was part of some nefarious scheme, he doubted the King’s law would care that he had not wished to be involved.
One morning he woke with an idea. He toyed with it all through Credell’s class, turning it over and over in his mind. By the time of the midday meal, he knew he had to bring it to Kalem and Theren.
“I have been thinking hard,” he said, as soon as they were all seated in the dining hall. “And I want to know what was in the parcel.”
“I am sure we would all like to know,” said Kalem. “But that carriage, as they say, has driven on already.”
“Mayhap not for good.”
/> Theren leaned in, eyes alight. “My dear goldbag. You cannot be proposing what I think—no, what I hope, you are proposing.”
“Mayhap,” said Ebon with a grin.
Kalem looked back and forth between them, utterly lost. “I do not understand. What do you mean to do?”
“I shall return to the inn where I brought the package. If the man is still there, I mean to find the package and learn what was inside it.”
Kalem could only gawk. “You cannot be serious.”
“He is, and it is glorious,” said Theren. She laughed out loud and slapped her hand down on the table. Many students looked over in shock, but she ignored them. “My dear little goldbag. I take back all the nasty things I ever said about you. Well, not all of them, but the greater part of them at least.”
“You will help me, then?”
“She will not, because you will not do this mad thing,” said Kalem. Though he whispered, it was so loud and harsh that Ebon doubted it did much to hide the words. “You do not know what you are involved in. You could be killed.”
“I doubt that. The man we saw is some agent of my family’s. He would not dare raise a hand to me, for then he would face their wrath—or at least my aunt’s, for I doubt my father cares whether I live or die.”
“You do not know that,” said Kalem. “What if he hired your family to do this thing for him? If they are in his employ, and not the other way around, that is a very different situation.”
Ebon scoffed. “My family, playing the part of lackey to some man in a rotten hovel of an inn? That is hardly likely.”
“You are quick to say so, yet what if you are wrong? It could go ill for all of us.”
“All of us?” said Ebon with a smile. “Do you mean to come with us, then?”
“Say you will, little goldbag,” said Theren, shaking Kalem’s shoulder. The poor boy flopped all about as though he were a rag doll. “It would not be a proper adventure without you.”
“I do not want it to be a proper adventure!” whined Kalem, shoving her hand away.
Ebon leaned in closer. “Think, Kalem. You have heard rumors of my family’s doings, have you not? It seems I am being drawn into them, though I did not will it. Will you not help me fight off their influence? I do not mean to grow up and become another agent of whatever mischief my father wishes to get up to.”
“Then leave it behind,” said Kalem miserably. “Refuse to follow his orders, and keep your nose out of whatever is happening.”
“Too late for that,” said Theren. “His nose is already well stuck in.”
“And I cannot refuse him,” said Ebon. “He will withdraw me from the Academy. Mako said as much.”
Kalem seemed to know he was defeated. It made him sullen, and he folded his arms in a pout. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Mayhap, but it is the only thing I can think of to free myself. I see you as a friend, Kalem. A true friend. Will you help me?”
The boy rolled his eyes and looked around. “Of course I will. You idiot.”
Ebon and Theren cheered as they embraced him.
That night, Ebon met his friends in the hall outside of Kalem’s common room.
“All right,” said Kalem, looking thoroughly disgruntled. “If we mean to go through with this mad scheme, then let us get on with it. How do you mean to sneak out?”
“Theren has a way.”
“And I shall not leave you behind this time,” she said with a grin. “But I do not think all three of us can approach the wall without being seen.”
“You need not worry about that,” said Ebon. “I have learned a new spell.”
He focused on the air around him, and the world grew brighter. Mist sprang from his skin, swirling about to surround him. Soon he could not see the others, though he could still sense them standing close. His chest swelled with pride—but then he heard Kalem and Theren burst into raucous laughter through the mist, which they swiftly hushed.
“What?” said Ebon. “What is it?”
“Ebon, you look ridiculous,” Theren managed to choke out. “Stop that foolish spell at once.”
He did not understand, but he let the image of the mist slip from his mind. The world darkened, and the fog receded. Kalem still clutched a hand to his mouth, his eyes bugging out from laughter, and Theren’s dark face had darkened further as she fought to remain silent.
“Do you not think the Academy’s attendants would notice a perfectly student-sized cloud of mist scuttling about the halls?” said Theren. “It practically held to your limbs. You were as inconspicuous as a two-mast ship falling through the ceiling of the High King’s palace.”
“It looked like this.” Kalem’s eyes glowed, and mist sprang into being around him—but it held only a few fingers away from his skin, so that he was like a little boy made all of fog. He crouched and slunk down the hallway in a low run, head swinging back and forth as though looking for pursuers. Theren clapped both hands to her mouth again and nearly fell over laughing.
Ebon’s cheeks were burning, and he looked down at his shoes. “Stop that. It is easy enough for the two of you to mock me; you have been here for years.”
Kalem let the mists die away, and Theren put a comforting hand on his shoulder. But they could not hide the glints in both their eyes. “Indeed, it is unfair,” said Kalem. “I am sorry. And you should be very proud of how quickly you have learned the spell for mist. But on this outing, at least, I think I should be responsible for concealing our escape.”
“Very well,” grumbled Ebon. “Then let us get on with it.”
He led them through the halls and then down the wide staircase to the front hall. Mellie was there by the door. She straightened in her chair and fixed them with wide, suspicious eyes. But Ebon only gave her a little wave and turned around, heading back down the hallway to the white doors leading outside.
“Turn left,” said Theren. “We should leave by the eastern doors, for I need to use the sheds.”
Ebon did as she said, and soon they had reached the training grounds outside the citadel. A few other students stood here and there in pockets, scarcely visible in the dim light. There, too, Ebon saw Jia and the other instructor he had often seen on the training grounds, speaking with each other as they strode down a path.
“We shall have to wait for Jia and Dasko to pass,” muttered Kalem. “They are both therianthropes; if I cast my mists now, they will detect it.”
Dasko. So the instructor had a name.
Jia saw Ebon and gave him a nod, which he returned, but the two instructors took no other notice of them. Soon they had vanished around the corner of the citadel. Ebon waited a few moments just to be safe, and then he gave Kalem a nod.
The boy’s eyes glowed, and mist filled the air all about them. Ebon heard a few muted sounds of surprise from the other students in the training grounds, but he and his friends were already running for the wall. He would have run straight into it if Theren had not stopped him with a quick hand. She guided them all until they stood by the wall together, huddling against it in the fog. A few paces away, Ebon saw shacks built against the inside wall, perfect mirrors of the ones on the outside.
“I will go first,” said Theren. “The sheds are easy and will give you a sense of how to make the landing. If I am atop them first, I can help steady you. Then we get to try the wall—that will be the fun part.”
“I doubt it,” said Ebon. He remembered the sickness in his stomach when he had stood upon the library’s third floor balcony and shuddered.
“Up we go, then,” said Theren. She crouched, eyes glowing, and then with a leap she vanished into the air.
Ebon gulped hard. Then he felt something under his arms where they joined the shoulders. He looked down, but there was nothing there. Theren’s magic, he realized. Steeling himself, he jumped as high as he could.
An unseen force gripped him, throwing him through the air. Then he was coming down, the shed roof beneath his feet. It came too quickly, and he fell with a c
rash. Soon Theren had gripped his arm and hauled him up.
“All well?” she said.
Ebon nodded, a bit shaken. A moment later, Kalem came flying through the air to land beside them both. The boy’s eyes still glowed from holding the mist in place.
“The next leap will be harder,” Theren warned. “Be ready to grip the wall with all your might.”
Again she leaped first, the glow of her eyes vanishing into the mist above them. Again Ebon felt unseen hands holding him up. He crouched as low as he could. For a moment he could not will himself to move.
“Ebon?” said Kalem.
“A moment.” Ebon took two deep breaths. “Sky above, protect me.”
He leaped.
This time he rocketed through the air, the mist stinging his eyes so that he had to close them. Then the cold against his skin vanished. He opened his eyes to see the top of the wall rocketing towards him.
He could see he would not clear it.
Panic froze his limbs. But then his chest struck the wall’s lip, and on instinct he reached forth to seize it. His elbows barely cleared the edge, and his shoes scrabbled uselessly against the wall as he tried to help himself rise the last pace.
“Ebon!” Theren fell to her knees and reached for him just as Ebon lost his grip and fell into empty space.
For an instant, time stopped. He could see the world in perfect detail: the horror in Theren’s face, plain despite the glow in her eyes; the rough texture of the wall sliding away under his hand; his robes fluttering in the air that rushed past him.
But then Theren’s hand closed over his wrist, and he slapped against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. Theren swung him one way, then another, and her eyes glowed brighter. He felt another unseen push, and an invisible rope tugged him atop the wall.
He collapsed on his back, panting, clutching the granite beneath him until it scraped his fingers. Theren must have thought he was hurt, for she knelt above him and looked into his eyes.
“What is wrong? Are you injured?”
Ebon could not speak, but he shook his head. She grinned at him.
The Academy Journals Volume One_A Book of Underrealm Page 16