The weapon in Sideb’s hand pulsed like it possessed its own heartbeat, droplets ever dripping along its blade.
Soren nodded in approval. “So the Sacrelith activated successfully. Excellent, but can you show us what it does?”
For the first time since they’d met him, Ambrose smirked. Then the sound of grinding stone came from behind them.
Rian whirled around.
The stone beetles he’d seen nestled in the corner earlier clicked and whirred, wings buzzing as compound eyes started glowing a pale green, turning left and right before their gaze fell upon Sideb. A wordless cry escaped mouthparts of steel and gears.
“I prepared an opponent for the demonstration,” Ambrose said proudly. “I hope you like it.”
Sideb leveled his weapon at the beetle constructs and the azure ripples pulsed, concentrating in cresting waves of light around both it and his armor.
The beetles surged forward. At their size, their mandibles were as long as swords, and their wings sent them hurtling along with the same speed as full-grown horses to impact in a flash of blue.
Sideb was sent skidding back, but the power he’d gathered blunted the assault and while a few dents had been added to the armor, he was unharmed.
“As you can see,” Ambrose shouted over the din of battle, “where someone wearing a normal suit of armor would have been impaled, the Sacrelith allowed Ambrose to escape unharmed! Beyond the normal enchantments of greater durability and sharper weaponry though, it possesses powerful destructive magic of its own, as Sideb will demonstrate!”
The sapphire burned like a blue sun dragged down from the sky but there was no response from within the armor and the beetles rocketed into the air once more.
“I said, ‘as Sideb will demonstrate’!” Ambrose yelled again, but there was still no movement from within the armor. “Err, Sideb?”
The beetles closed within five feet before Sideb finally moved. In an instant, the power he’d gathered crackled around his halberd in an azure corona and, with a growl, he brought it across in one mighty swipe.
A massive wave erupted from it, backed with the strength that only the most devastating tsunamis could bring. The beetles were mere inches away, too close to have the slightest chance of escape as the wave crashed into each of them with the force of a cannon. With barely the slightest resistance, the water-spell tore through their bodies, crushing like their smaller vermin kin… and sending water spewing about the room like a dozen thunderstorms at once.
It blasted everywhere, splashing walls, floors, the bookshelf, even the audience itself, bowling over Rian as if he had jumped headfirst into a tidal wave. Over the roar of the water, he could barely hear Soren cry out.
“Sideb!” Ambrose roared, gripping a chair to keep from getting washed away, “stop the spell, you idiot!”
An instant later, the light around the weapon blinked out, the spell ended and what water remained crashed to the floor, all force behind it gone.
Surveying the results of his mistake, Sideb visibly winced through his armor. “I’m, err, so sorry, sirs.”
The effect of Ambrose’s glare was somewhat ruined by the water that trickled down his face. “Next time, boy, pay some damn attention!”
Turning back to Rian and Soren, the mage smiled, his hair half-covering his face in a bedraggled mess of what looked like seaweed over a spit of land. “W-Well, as you can see, Khaldun is completely functional, granting the wielder access to a wide spread of water-based magics as well as enough power to punch through solid stone. It is the perfect weapon for a young noble or master at arms,” he stuttered out, gesturing to Rian.
Rian spat some water out of his mouth.
Soren snorted, visibly having trouble keeping a straight face. He had managed to use the armchair as a shield and avoid the worst of it, the lucky bastard. “I agree that it was quite effective, in spite of the chaos of the ‘demonstration’,” Ambrose winced and Soren’s smile widened, “and I would be happy to take it off your hands for perhaps… three-thousand gold pieces.”
He knew that smile. It was the kind that told him Soren was expecting to get it at a steal. Even considering the soaking, it was a terribly low offer, but given how nervous Ambrose was, Soren decided now was time to move in for the kill and -
“Five thousand and not a gold piece less.”
Rian blinked.
Soren blinked too.
Both turned to look at the awkward mage. In spite of the way his robes dripped on the floor, Ambrose’s eyes bore the glint of hard steel and his smile was all teeth.
By the time the two of them had left the chambers, almost half an hour later, Soren had managed to talk Ambrose down to four-thousand gold pieces and get a favor thrown in, but only if he agreed to purchase a second one at the same price upon creation.
Still, Soren smiled as they made their way down the corridor, “I really thought that after that disaster of a demonstration that we would get the Sacrelith on the cheap, but he stuck at it. Damn that man!” Despite his words, his admiration was clear.
Rian hid a smile. So much for Soren’s ‘peerless’ bargaining skills. “Getting a legitimate Sacrelith is worth it though, is it not?”
“True enough,” Soren admitted, mopping the last bits of water off his forehead. It gleamed like the marble walls in the afternoon sun. “I would have preferred a better deal, admittedly. Still, it’s good to meet with a man who knows his worth, even if it is inconvenient.”
“If only I had not needed to be soaked for it,” Rian said, wringing the dampness out of his sleeve with a low squelch. “So why were we here for this Sacrelith?” He paused. “Surely it is not for me, is it?”
Soren eyed him thoughtfully before shrugging. “Not unless you wish it to be.” At Rian’s deepening frown, he explained, “Like all noble families, House Miel will always have need of more Sacreliths. If you have no wish to use it, we’ll just give it to one of your aunts or uncles, or perhaps Nyna’s child. If you do need it though, for whatever reason, it’s there waiting for you.”
He shivered at the thought. It was only an offer, and only if he needed it… but he also knew there was only one reason he would need one. To the magi, a Sacrelith was an object of little value, so the only reason he could possibly need one was if he failed.
He clenched a hand into a fist. He would not fail.
***
Unlike the brightly lit and colorful upper levels, entering the bowels of the Royal Academy of Mages meant stepping into a world of darkness and shadows; the only sources of illumination were small enchanted crystals whose glow was weak and fitful, sucked away by an endless gloom. There was so little light that it was impossible to see anyone until they were nearly in front of him, the only warning coming from the whisper of robes trailing along the ground. The wide hallways were no longer a blessing, only giving the feeling of being alone in the infinite darkness.
He would have avoided this place, save for the fact that the First Trial would take place here, Mage Dalmarn apparently keeping his quarters down amidst these catacombs.
Taking the trials was the only way to become a mage, so there was little choice. Necessity or not though, every noise caused him to twitch, and his still-damp robes clung around him with every step. He shuffled along as best he could though, trying to ignore the way he shivered. Confidence had been easy in the warmth of day and when surrounded by bright marble and stained glass, all glimmering in the sun. Here, the darkness swallowed it all.
Still, he followed the directions as best he could, hoping he hadn’t gotten turned around at any point. He imagined Arnla would have walked these halls without fear. He would do the same.
Eventually, the path led him to a door of black stone upon which an owl’s head was etched. It glared down at him, so lifelike that it looked ready to swoop down on any fool that dared get too close. A gleaming bronze door-knocker served as the bird’s perch. It matched the description he had been given for Mage Dalmarn’s chambers.
&nbs
p; His hands trembled, but with a steadying breath to fortify himself, he knocked.
The resulting boom rattled his bones, echoing through the blackened passages. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to cover his ears. The noise was a mild enchantment, he told himself, and as nervous as he was, he was a noble of House Miel. It wouldn’t do to be found huddled up like a child afraid of the dark.
There was no response from within, but the owl let out a low caw and the door swung open.
He hesitated, but what was the point of the journey if he would not go inside? He stepped past the threshold.
A thick, green moss coated almost everything within and the air was hot and moist, like breathing a thick stew. The thin light of the few enchanted crystals wasn’t enough; they looked as if they had seen the gloom below and given up halfway, their feeble rays fading out before reaching the ground and casting dim shadows that only served to draw attention to the bookshelves that were even now half-submerged in greenery. The tomes and scrolls had escaped to a haphazard pile on the topmost shelves in a desperate bid to escape the fate that would soon befall them. The oaken desk in the center of the room had escaped the worst of it, but even then the invading tendrils of moss had already begun creeping up its legs.
Perhaps underneath it all, this chamber resembled Ambrose’s upstairs, but for all that could be seen, it had become a grotto buried under the earth long ago.
He wondered fleetingly if maybe he had made a wrong turn. Surely nobody would make their home in a place like this.
“Enjoying the view?” came a harsh voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once, sounding through the gloom.
A bead of sweat trailed down Rian’s neck. Polite, he needed to be polite. “Your rooms are quite impressive... Mage Dalmarn?” he guessed.
“Who else were you expecting in my quarters?” the man stepped out from behind one of the shelves, setting down the book he’d been reading. His appearance was hard to discern through the shadows, but rather than the normal white or blue robes, he wore robes that were so dark they made him resemble the owl carved upon the door-knocker, or perhaps a vulture. A lean man, his skin was so pale that his complexion reminded one of chalk, but his every step was strong and sure.
Briefly glancing at Rian’s damp attire, Dalmarn sneered. “And do listen attentively. I’ve had enough trouble with you lot to last me the year.”
Unsure of how to respond, he nodded in as placating a manner as he could manage. At least he’d made it with time to spare. Given Alensia’s words and the already-biting reception, he shuddered to think what might have happened if he were late.
“Now, who are you and why are you here?” Before Rian could respond, Dalmarn grabbed a roll of parchment from the bookshelf and glared at it. “Mmhmm, spare of the Miel brood… wants to be a mage… taking the trials… very well. Now stop wasting my time and sit down!”
Gulping, he took a seat in front of the desk, just in time for Dalmarn to set the scroll atop it, along with a golden-brown sphere - most likely a Spellstone of some sort. Both were accompanied by a hide-backed book, a piece of charcoal, and some parchment covered in various runes.
Settling himself behind the desk, Dalmarn glowered. “Ready to start?” he said, biting off each word.
“Y-Yes?” Rian stuttered, unsure himself if his words were a question.
“Very well,” Dalmarn leaned forward, an expectant look upon his face, “you may begin. You have five minutes to complete the trial.”
He waited for him to explain more, but the mage merely waited placidly. “What exactly am I supposed to do, sir?”
Dalmarn raised a single eyebrow. “Expecting aid during the trial because of your nobility, your lordship?”
What did he - his eyes went wide as the significance of what Dalmarn stated crashed down around him. ‘During the trial’. Somehow he had agreed to start the trial without even knowing what it was!
“You had best start. Only four minutes to go,” Dalmarn said, confirming his thoughts. “Surely you are prepared enough to finish the first trial, aren’t you?”
Rian swallowed the urge to scream. How could he finish the trial without any idea what in God’s name he had to do? If he failed, not only was there no chance he could become a mage, he would be a laughingstock! A fool whose name would be mocked for generations to come, bringing shame to the Miel family.
He could imagine it now, going to his mother and father and trying to explain to them that he’d failed the first trial because he hadn’t even asked what he needed to do. No! He’d come too far, spent so much of his life preparing for this. There had to be something he could do, anything!
He looked down at the desk before him, hoping for something that would give him an idea. Still just the book and the charcoal, the parchment and the Spellstone. No instructions listing the steps he needed to take, nothing.
“Three minutes,” Dalmarn said, his mouth twisting into a sneer.
When the time was up, his quest to be a mage would be over. He had to pass. There must be some way, he just had to think. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore his thudding heart and think as logically as he could manage.
Alright, he had been told to sit down, so whatever the Trial entailed, logically it could be completed from where he sat. That made sense. Also, it had to be something any competent apprentice was capable of doing, as it couldn’t be reliant on him carrying any particular Spellstone. Really all Dalmarn had done before asking he was ready was sit across from him and set down the scroll and the Spellstone -
Rian’s eyes shot open. The Spellstone!
He wanted to smack himself for his stupidity. He was supposed to activate the Spellstone! Well, probably, anyway. Hoping he was right, he grabbed the Spellstone and peered closer at it.
It was warm to the touch and nestled in his hand like it belonged there. The design was a simple sphere, brown with golden runes that repeated from top to bottom, marked with the characters for ‘shine’ or perhaps ‘gleam’.
Like all Spellstones, utilized properly it would aid him in casting one particular spell. He just had to find out what that spell was. He reached out to it with his mind and it welcomed him, establishing a link between him and the stone.
It was a fragile and unsure one though, and the Spellstone started trying to empower it by sucking away at his strength like a lamprey.
Dalmarn said something but he ignored it. He couldn’t panic. If he panicked with an uncontrolled link, he would be unconscious on the floor in a matter of minutes. Wrestling back control from the Spellstone, he managed to bring the leak to a stop. It was still there though, ready to take his energy the moment he let it. Alright, he commanded, tell me what you do.
It didn’t speak by any means, being little more than a series of simple runes gathered together to create one effect, but its purpose was communicated to him. It would create a basic light spell designed to illuminate the darkness.
Rian slowed his breathing and allowed the Spellstone to draw upon him once more. It wasn’t the same uncontrolled hemorrhaging as before though. Instead, he guided his power to trigger the runes one by one in proper order until finally, he smiled.
The stone unleashed a burst of radiant blue light, enough to chase away the shadows completely… and not a second too soon, as a soft chime sounded moments after.
Dalmarn’s sneer vanished, replaced by an indecipherable frown.
A low, grating sound came from the mage and echoed through the room, confusing him until he realized that this must be the man's laughter.
“Very well, it appears you pass,” Dalmarn’s eyes glinted, “this time.”
Rian’s eyes went wide. He… he’d done it. It was the First Trial but he’d passed it! Only two more remained until he achieved his dreams… but that had been close, far too close, all because he didn’t know what the test was about. He frowned.
“Mage Dalmarn, sir, why did you not tell me the purpose of the test before asking if I was ready? Surely, you mu
st have known I had not been told yet.”
“Ah, but I am not obligated to tell you unless you ask. You didn’t until the trial began, at which point I would have been breaking the rules. Besides,” his lips quirked into a mean little smile, “surely a noble such as yourself doesn’t want to have to listen as someone like me babbles on. I merely asked if you were ready to begin. It was you who agreed.”
It was… my fault? No, that’s not possible, I couldn’t have known, couldn't have realized. The only one who understood what was being offered was… His blood thundered in his head.
“Not obligated? One could claim they are not obligated to do anything while someone stumbles headlong into ruin, but you did worse than nothing. You encouraged me to jump off that cliff!”
Dalmarn narrowed his eyes. “Are you being insubordinate to your proctor?”
Rian glared at him, but in the end, it was an impotent fury and he lowered his head. “No, sir.”
“Very well. Then out with you,” Dalmarn said, waving him away. “I have others coming and haven’t the time to be gabbing.”
Rian turned on his heel and walked stiffly away, snarling the moment he was out of earshot.
Whatever sort of bastard Dalmarn might be, he was not worth losing his chance to become a mage. Rian would remember this day though, and one day there would be a reckoning.
Chapter Four
“Maleth, get to the table, now!”
The boy in question loudly refused, apparently being far too busy with his slaying of imaginary dragons while armed with the mighty stick-sword.
While Alensia tried to get her wayward son to the dinner table, Rian could only sit awkwardly. His only experience with children came from some of his younger cousins and the only thing he’d learned from that was that he had no idea how to deal with children. Instead, he let his attention wander.
The Mage Trials Page 5