What if they failed?
Nadia said they’d each be judged individually alongside their team score. Would some of them pass and some fail? None of them were the weak link anymore. Each had their own strength. Adaku spent the past two days training Goban’s telepathy skills, until he could send his thoughts to the three of them at once, but only if they were silent. If the test required Goban to share information, they agreed to stop their own thoughts while he shared. The constant chatter still bothered him, but he’d proven more resilient than at first.
The stew had gone cold.
They weren’t hungry.
Only anxious.
As they stood to leave Abaze transmitted, Stay a minute.
Hesitation froze her, and the others looked back. “I’m going to stay for a moment.”
“Okay,” Shaya said. “Be sure and get to bed early.”
The team left her alone with her brother.
“What do you want?”
Adaku closed her mind off to him. She doubted they’d ever return to who they were before. Rather than place family first, he’d chosen to value his pride and turn his back on her. It hurt, but she knew she was better off without him. Even if their father would disapprove of her.
“The test is tomorrow.”
“Obviously.”
“I need your help,” Abaze looked helpless for a moment, like the time their father caught him playing with a city girl.
“How?”
“Tomorrow,” Abaze said. “When they call us for the team test, I need you to stand with me and be my team. Together—”
“No!” Adaku turned to leave.
“Adaku, please!”
“Have you learned nothing since coming here? It is a team test, that doesn’t mean breakup into teams, it means we all work together.” Her brother had never begged her for anything before. Tears burned her cheeks as she left the dining hall.
“Adaku, please!”
His plea echoed off the stone floor as she ran up the staircase.
Shaya stood in the hall, as she reached the third floor—tears poured down her face. For a moment it looked as if Shaya would reach out, but then she closed her eyes. Adaku rushed past to her room Grateful for the privacy Shaya had given.
Throwing herself onto her bunk, she cried into her pillow until sleep overtook her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE DAY OF THE TEST ARRIVED, and the team gathered in the great hall, with Ren leading the way. Goban stayed close at hand, while the girls hung back speaking to one another. Something they’d done all morning. Ren thought it had something to do with Abaze, who left for the courtyard ahead of them. The twins had appeared to argue before Abaze stormed off.
Arriving separate was for the best—they were two teams: Abaze on one, and the four of them on the other. Maybe Nadia would have them compete against each other, since Abaze refused to cooperate.
We’ve got this, Ren transmitted, more to reassure himself, but he noticed Goban looked a bit pale in the face.
Together he and Goban pulled the doors open to reveal the courtyard bathed in light—not a cloud in sight. The scene felt unreal, for the source-light was directly overhead causing there to be no shadows. The whole island looked like an oil painting.
Nadia stood waiting for them, along with four other sorcerers, but thankfully the courtyard was empty otherwise. No doubt they had directed the others to stay inside. Ren didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse, having only five sorcerers in attendance.
He looked back as they walked across the field and realized the girls looked just as unreal as the buildings. Their skin vibrant like paint.
Focus! Ren chastised himself.
“With the rest of the team here, we shall begin,” Nadia said.
The team looked to Adaku. It was her place to correct Nadia.
“Excuse me,” Adaku stepped before Ren. “Abaze is not a part of our team.”
“Ah,” Nadia looked between the twins.
After some consideration Nadia said, “Wait a moment.”
She conferred with the other sorcerers, not with words, but it was obvious with the way they flashed eye contact between one another. Ren had practiced enough with the team to know what a telepathic debate looked like.
“Very well,” Nadia said. “Abaze you will be your own team. The rest of you step to the right.”
Ren and the others separated themselves from where Abaze stood.
“Your test is to summon the wall of light,” Nadia looked between the two teams. “Begin!”
Easy, Ren transmitted.
Don’t become over confident, Adaku warned.
I have the base, Goban transmitted.
And sure enough, his magical essence spread into a circle between them. There was no color or substance to his magic, but Ren could feel it like a low hum at his feet. Their plan to call it out step by step and keep the chatter to a minimal—letting Goban go first—was working out. His face showed no sign of discomfort—a major improvement.
I’ll create the box, Shaya transmitted.
The hum at Ren’s feet changed to a high pitch squeal, and the first signs of color began to form. A faint blue, like that of the sky, filled the space between them, and slowly formed into a solid rectangle about twice the size of a person.
You go, Adaku transmitted. I’ll finish.
Ren didn’t hesitate. They’d all agreed that if need be, Adaku would call the shots. She had the most experience.
He closed his eyes to block out the light, and silenced his mind except for, I am the snow that covers the plains. When he opened his eyes, two yellow balls of magic the size of his head, left his palm and entered the rectangular wall Shaya’s magic outlined. Ren’s own magic swirled inside like the heart of a snow storm, and the wall appeared nearly complete.
You’ve got this, Ren transmitted only to Adaku.
She clapped her hands together, and hundreds of leaves—the vibrant green of terminal text—floated across the circle and attached to the wall of light. The final product was a wall of nearly translucent light—like that of the source-light overhead.
If only he’d helped, Adaku transmitted.
The team looked to where he stood, with his wall which was outlined in green, but lacked substance.
“Well done,” Nadia said.
She walked to the wall and passed her arm through it, and one by one the other sorcerers did the same. Their black robes each turning a slightly different color at the sleeves, where it touched their wall of light.
The team beamed with pride.
Another thirty minutes passed as Abaze struggled against all odds to make his wall become corporeal, like theirs had been. It forced Ren to admire his determination. Walk, cast, walk, cast, stand before the wall and stare with an intensity strong enough to crack stone—Abaze refused to relent.
He refused to accept defeat!
Death before dishonor, Ren transmitted to the team, knowing Shaya at least would agree.
I can’t watch, Adaku transmitted.
Ren looked over to see her eyes were wet from tears.
We don’t have to let this continue, Goban transmitted.
Taking charge, the youngest amongst them walked across the field of grass to stand across the wall from Abaze, and began to cast. At first Abaze looked confused, but when Goban spread his arms apart the wall between them formed into a slightly more substantial wall of light.
Is it okay that I help? Adaku transmitted.
Of course, he’s family, Shaya transmitted.
Together the three of them followed Goban’s example, and each contributed. The wall was perfect, just as the wall they’d encountered upon their arrival to the Amethyst Nation.
“Step inside,” Nadia called out.
The five did as they were told, and the courtyard melted away in a swirl of color, as if the oil painting were wiped away. When Ren’s vision returned, he found himself in a cozy office, a warm fire burned in a stone fireplace. The
team was with him, and Abaze. Though perhaps he was officially part of the team now?
Where are we? Ren transmitted.
I think we’re in the tower, Shaya transmitted.
Nadia appeared, passing through sudden hole in the stone next to the fire, followed by the four sorcerers who’d observed their test.
“Congratulations!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AFTER A BRIEF CONGRATULATION the apprentices were escorted to a banquet hall on the third floor of the tower. That’s where the other sorcerers had been- preparing for the celebrations.
What if we hadn’t passed? Ren transmitted.
I guess we’d be eating a consolatory dinner, Shaya transmitted.
The room was a perfect circle—not a single straight wall in sight—large enough to seat five hundred or more sorcerers, but this evening, enough tables were placed to serve two hundred max. The tables had been arranged in three circles, leaving a large opening in the center where a platform had been erected and a three-piece orchestra played without musicians. The instruments were displayed in stands, and beautiful harmonies sung forth.
I’ll never get tired of magic, Goban transmitted.
Ren had to agree. How? How was it possible that music could play itself?
Nadia led them to a table that was slightly offset from the rest. Six place settings were arranged in a half circle around the table, so their backs would be to the tables behind them, and they could watch the festivities on the open floor.
“Dancing will be optional,” Nadia said in response to the look of discomfort on Abaze’s face.
Shaya’s face glowed, and Ren promised himself he’d ask for a dance—though he hadn’t a clue how.
“The others will arrive soon,” Nadia said. “You can wait in your seats or wander around, but please do not leave this room.”
She left before they could respond—always quick to be about her tasks. Ren wondered if she ever stayed put in one place for long. He imagined her walking the grounds at night unable to sleep.
The apprentices quickly took their seats with Ren and Abaze taking the far ends. Shaya switched places with Goban so he could sit next to Ren, and offer Adaku someone to speak with. They may have just worked together to summon a wall of light, but the twins weren’t reconciled. Adaku kept her back turned to Abaze, though she sat next to him.
Over the course of the next hour, sorcerers made their way into the banquet hall and took their places at the tables. There appeared to be a pre-arranged seating order, for some groups of sorcerers who’d arrived together didn’t sit together.
The music stopped.
The sorcerers all stood, and the apprentices followed their lead.
What’s this? Ren transmitted.
A man dressed in vibrant purple robes, with a beard as long as his torso, walked into the room flanked on either side by two sorcerers. On the old man’s right, the sorcerers wore red and blue, on his left they wore green and white.
Nadia slipped into the open chair beside Abaze. “The Archamethyst.”
Ren had heard of him before, but he didn’t expect the man to be so old. He was a bit surprised the old man could walk, and then remembered magic, and realized it must be the answer.
The five stopped before the center platform, directly in front of their table.
“Welcome,” the Archamethyst’s voice amplified throughout the room, as if he were speaking right next to Ren. “We’re gathered to celebrate a wonderful occurrence; a new batch of apprentices have proven themselves ready for mentorship. It is a tradition that tonight each apprentice be chosen by their first mentor.”
As if sensing Ren’s anxiety, the Archamethyst looked right at them. “Don’t worry about finding your mentor, they’ll find you, and besides, most pupils go through multiple mentors before being deemed ready to join our ranks.”
A woman in red tugged on the Archamethyst’s sleeve.
“Enough babblings of an old man. Let the banquet commence!”
A loud roar of applause filled the room, amplified by the stone walls. The Archamethyst and the four who accompanied him, sat at a private table, and menus appeared before them.
The menu was four pages long, with six meat courses to choose from, and a whole page of drinks. Any other day, and he would have been thrilled to try new fare, but after the stress of their test, he didn’t care about food. He skimmed quickly and ordered fried pork, roasted root veggies, a piece of dark bread, and blackberry wine.
When the food appeared, Ren took a large drink of his wine glass, and was instantly filled with a warm sensation that started in the back of his throat and wound its way down into his gut—where it melted away the knot of anxiety.
“This is an impressive feast,” Ren said to Nadia.
The music softly started back up.
“We find a reason to celebrate as often as possible.”
“Back home—” Abaze began, but the look his sister gave him shut him up instantly.
No one else spoke, instead focused on the goings on around them, and eating the delicious food, which proved to be even better than the meals they’d enjoyed in their own dining hall.
Perhaps they used different chefs.
As people finished their meals, the music shifted to a livelier tune, and young men asked Shaya and Adaku to dance. Abaze bit down his urge to speak, and Ren too found himself silent as he watched the girls dance with young men in their early twenties.
Periodically older sorcerers would make their way to the table to speak with one or all of them. More than once Ren was forced to recount his life as an orphan and realized he despised having to market himself in hopes of gaining a mentor.
The night marched on, and still Ren couldn’t find his opportunity with Shaya, who stayed occupied speaking to prospective mentors, or dancing. On more than one occasion Shaya and Adaku danced with one another. They both ended up shaking hands with different sorcerers during the festivities, Ren could only assume that meant they found their mentors. It was great to see Adaku happy. Abaze on the other hand looked sullen, and Nadia kept finding reasons to excuse herself away from the table.
And the wine continued to pour.
Over the course of the evening it seemed that both Abaze and Goban had productive conversations that also ended in handshakes.
* * *
SO WHAT IF NONE OF THEM wanted him as a pupil!
Ren consoled himself knowing he’d done his best and come so far. First sorcerer from the Pearl Nation in three hundred years! That was worth more than being a prince of some Emerald Nation city.
The courtyard was as silent as the dungeon he’d been in on Shinzo. Ren looked around and realized it was as empty too! Alone with his thoughts, he made his way toward the fountain, and his private room in the apprentices’ wing.
Might as well turn in early.
A sound plan, someone transmitted to Ren.
He did a quick double check, but he was still alone. With a bright flash of white light, the Archamethyst stood before Ren.
Pardon the theatrical entrance, the Archamethyst transmitted. It’s impossible for me to walk around here without at least one sorcerer needing to pick my brain.
Ren nodded along in agreement, shock had frozen him, as solid as if he’d been caught outside in a snowstorm with no clothes. Standing before the Archamethyst Ren felt just as naked.
Nonsense, the Archamethyst transmitted and took a step toward Ren, so that they were only an arm span apart. I understand none of the other sorcerers took you as their pupil.
Obviously! Ren thought before he could stop himself.
The Archamethyst broke out into laughter, as warm as fresh bread. The honesty of youth.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.
No, the Archamethyst transmitted. It’s I who am being rude, to come upon you with no warning. I’ll have to make it up to you.
Just then two sorcerers began to cross the courtyard toward where they stood. No doubt to “pick” the Archa
methyst’s mind.
“Can’t stay,” the Archamethyst said loud enough for the approaching sorcerers to hear. “Very busy, I’m sure you understand.”
The Archamethyst took three quick steps back from Ren, “I’ll see you tomorrow to start your pupilship.” And with a flick of his wrist—and a smirk on his face—the Archamethyst disappeared into a ball of white light.
“Did he say pupilship?” A sorcerer Ren didn’t know asked.
Indeed. That’s precisely what Ren had heard too. Dumbfounded he stood there as the two sorcerers asked him a stream of questions Ren didn’t bother to pay attention to.
I’m the Archamethyst’s pupil!
Next in Series?
Archamethyst’s Secret: Academy 2, is available on Amazon now!
AUTHOR NOTES
FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANT: THANK YOU! This year has been the best of my life, and mostly because of you. When I set out to write Chronicles of the Seventh Realm, I had a vision of Ren and orphan boy who’d learn to change the world, but I never could have envisioned the way he’d change my world. The feedback from readers has been beyond positive.
What’s more, we’ve developed a full-fledged tribe on Discord, and the support I’ve received there on my down days, has changed my life. Writing use to be a lonely venture, but now I have reader feedback only a click away. I’ve always loved writing, but being able to write for a hungry audience is the best feeling in the world.
At the start of the year, I figure I’d release a book a month. And I did. For two months. Since then I’ve had to come to the realization that I may have been a tad ambitious, and the constant pressure and regret for missing deadlines was negatively affecting me. But after Salt & Steel, and now Apprentices’ Library, I’ve decided that a six-week release schedule is both manageable and fast enough. Toward that end, Archamethyst’s Secret should already be available for preorder, and I’ll continue to keep the next book in series up for preorder. A promise from me to you, that the series will continue. I know there have been some doubts, but rest assured there are several more books coming in the Chronicles of the Seventh Realm.
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