The Mage Trials

by Charles Cackler

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “There are some,” far too many, “who are of the same opinion, but there are certain magics that no Sacrelith can replicate, that only the magi are allowed to learn.”

  “Oh.” Maleth digested that. “Then if you’re not using it, could I try it?”

  “No!”

  “Aww, why not?”

  He had a vision of ‘oops!’ before Maleth somehow managed to drown them all indoors. Shuddering at the thought, he said, “Maybe when you’re… older?” Much older, and ideally in a different duchy or kingdom.

  Maleth pouted, but went back to peering at the Sacrelith.

  “So one day, I might be able to create these if I get better with enchanting,” Alensia said, tracing the weapon with her hand as if it were her own creation.

  Grateful for the change of subject, Rian cleared his throat. “Assuming that you managed to pass your trials and that your talents and inclinations leaned in that direction? Yes. This is what lies at the end of that road.” He hid a smile at the eagerness burning in her gaze. This way he wouldn’t have to worry. Even if he were no longer able to help her, he had lit a flame in her mind. “Now then, to other matters.”

  When the Sacrelith was wrapped up and returned to him, he quickly set it off to the side. Whatever its uses in inspiring Alensia, it was a symbol of what his future might be if he failed the mage trials.

  The three of them settled down to eat, Maleth shoveling meat and potatoes into his seemingly-endless stomach and his mother nibbling her way through each bite. Rian ate too, but something was else on his mind, the real reason he was supposed to be here; he had to tell her. He set down his fork and opened his mouth… only to close it again. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  “Something bothering you?” Alensia said between bites, noticing his disquiet. “You look troubled.”

  Damn it. It wasn’t fair! “Soren. He thinks… that is to say…” He gritted his teeth, forcing the words out, “he wants us to curtail our friendship, for the time being at least.”

  She froze, her gaze searching his face to see if it were a joke of some kind. She must have seen the despair in his expression as she growled. “I knew the man didn’t care for me or Maleth, but to go so far as -”

  “It is not that,” he said quickly. “He does not care much for the common folk, no, but that is not his reason. It is because of the marriage suit - he is concerned that our friendship might look inappropriate to an outside party and lower my marital prospects.”

  She furrowed her brow, digesting his words. “I am starting to see why you didn’t care for the marriage suit. Life as a noble, I never thought it would be quite so strange. To think that you have such concerns,” she said, almost to herself. “What happens now?”

  “It will not be forever, only until the negotiations are finished, and it is not as if we have to completely avoid one another. Brief encounters in public should not be an issue as long as they were not too frequent, but these long periods of time spent together teaching you would have to end.”

  “So we would see each other once in a while in the corridors at most,” she said, rubbing her brow. “I suppose it makes sense - appearances matter, as my friend Garleth discovered when he stopped bothering to clean his smithy for a few weeks and lost half his customers.”

  She was taking it well… which bothered him, oddly enough. He wanted her to be angry, just as he was. “It just is not fair. It is not anything real, just a matter of appearances. We both know that it is a matter of complete innocence.”

  Alensia chuckled mirthlessly, her expression all too tired. “If you heard your wife-to-be was spending hours on end entertaining a man in her personal quarters, would you be fine with her claiming it an innocent matter?”

  He opened his mouth to deny what she was saying, only to close it again. “No,” he finally said, “I would not. I would be suspicious. Even if it were innocent, I would look for someone else, someone who would avoid causing my family potential embarrassment.” He sighed in defeat. Maybe Soren was right. “So that is it then? I cannot be your tutor anymore?”

  “It’s necessary, at least for now.”

  “True, it is just…” he trailed off, trying to think of the words to explain. “I spent ten years learning magic. I was blessed with tutors and tomes, and all the time one could possibly need to practice. Yet when I tell my family of my goals and dreams, they smile and nod before going onto more important matters. With our instruction, that was not the case. When I speak of magic, you pay attention. It has been five years since I had anyone who actually cared rather than just humoring me… and now I am having to give that up because of this marriage suit.”

  She patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. Like you said, it will only be for a little while if we pass the trials.” She forced a smile. “It would not be wrong for fellow students to study together once in a while, no?”

  Alensia was trying to cheer him up, he realized. Somehow, that knowledge helped him in itself, and a little relief seeped into his body, but only a little. “I suppose it would not,” he admitted, “and it will end eventually.”

  “See? Everything will be fine in the end.”

  As Rian left her quarters and trudged back upstairs though, it was with a heavy heart. Regardless of the necessity, he would miss his newfound friend, even if it was only for a little while.

  Chapter Seven

  Standing before the mirror, the shining glass reflected a youth whose tunic bore his family’s crest. It had been tailored well and fit him perfectly, like he hoped the blue robes he might earn would as well. His long dark hair trailed down his back, tied in a braid, while the only adornment he bore was his signet ring.

  The day of the Second Trial had come, and Rian would meet that challenge as both a Miel and as a mage. He was prepared for Dalmarn’s hostility this time; the man had tricked him before but it would not happen again. He wouldn’t let it, and as long as he did not make that mistake… with ten years of training, how could he possibly fail?

  Once more, the darkness engulfed him as he descended into the blackened corridors where Dalmarn made his domain. Despite everything, his footsteps were steady and focused. There were only two trials to go, then he would become a mage. He would have his friend back and the depths of magic awaited him, secrets the likes of which -

  “Hello there,” came a lighthearted voice from right beside him, causing him to jump and whirl about. “Err, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to startle you. If it isn’t too much trouble though, I could really use your help.”

  The woman before him was tanned from long hours beneath the sun and there was more than a hint of muscle in her frame. Her cheerful brown eyes overlooked a smile that was small but no less warm for it. Untamed auburn tresses reached down to her shoulders and at her waist was sheathed a ruby-pommelled longsword.

  “You alright there?” She furrowed her brows and drew closer. There was a scar over her nose, where it looked like someone had tried to slice her forehead open.

  “Ahem, my apologies.” Rian inclined his head politely. “You surprised me is all.” He was about to say more when his gaze fell upon the red cloak trailing down her back, the exact same one as that bastard of a guard. She was part of the Crimson Order, just like him. His lip curled.

  The woman in question continued her entreaty obliviously. “Sorry for the bother, but I’m trying to find Mage Dalmarn’s chambers and I don’t have the slightest idea of where it is I’m going.”

  His first thought was to say that he didn’t know either and move on. Neither her red cloak nor her mention of Dalmarn was remotely endearing and if she were anything like her comrade, she certainly didn’t deserve his help. The way the Crimson Order lorded the ‘King’s Authority’ over everyone, even the nobility… he was quite sure it would be appreciated if he were to give that overweening pride a bit of a bruising. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

  “Sir?” Her smile grew uncertain.

&nb
sp; Damn, he couldn’t do it. She had been nothing but polite and, regardless of what her comrades had done, he didn’t know of any cruelties she’d committed. Until he found otherwise, politeness said that it was his duty to aid her. “Follow me,” he finally said.

  “Thank you, sir, I really appreciate it.”

  He grunted in response and the flattening of her expression gave him a surge of dark pleasure. That’s right. I’m going to help you, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. Hiding a smirk, he led her on to Dalmarn’s chambers.

  It was quiet, her footsteps so soft that he sometimes wondered if perhaps the woman had wandered off somewhere. He didn’t look back. If she somehow got lost with him leading the way, it was her own problem. He certainly bore no responsibility for her!

  Her voice invaded the quiet once more. “You’re not wearing the blue or white robes. Are you taking your Mage Trials?”

  “Yes.” His voice was little more than a growl. If she was going to stand there and mock him…

  She hummed lightly, tapping one finger against the hilt of her sword as she sized him up with dark eyes. On any other person, Rian might have thought it a threat, but the unconcerned, offhand way she did it made him wonder if it was merely a tic. After a moment, her hand stilled anyway and she nodded. “You seem well prepared.”

  How would you know that? “I am.”

  Her eyebrows knit together and she frowned. “Did I… do something to you or someone you know?”

  “You? No. Your comrades? Yes.”

  Despite his answer, her expression cleared into a small smile. “Alright, so it’s not my fault then. Good to hear.”

  Is this some kind of joke? His annoyance must have shown on his face as the woman chuckled.

  “I know perfectly well that many who wear my cloak have done things that dishonor it,” she said. “Sometimes I myself have had to make decisions I hate. If you have no quarrel with me though, I have no quarrel with you.”

  He could only stare at her. “You do not mind me hating you over your comrade’s actions, so long as it is not for anything you yourself have done?”

  “Not really. It’s unlikely we’ll meet again and I have troubles enough to face without adding more.” Her smile widened. “Besides, whatever your thoughts of me, you’re helping me. Is it wrong that I am grateful for that?”

  “Oh…” When she put it that way, it made some sense, but it was hard to maintain his anger when she was being so understanding. His annoyance faded somewhat, leaving behind only guilt for being so hard on her.

  “What is your name, madam?” Rian asked, this time with all the grace a noble of the Miel family could muster.

  For the first time since the conversation began though, wariness crossed her expression. “It’s Sachiel,” she said slowly, “Sachiel Licourt.”

  He raised an eyebrow at that. Only the nobility possessed a family name, although he did not recognize hers. He briefly wondered what would cause someone of noble blood to stoop so low as to join the Crimson Order as it was now, but dismissed it as irrelevant. As Sachiel herself had pointed out, the odds were that he would never see her again.

  “My name is Rian Miel,” he said, “second child to House Miel and future mage upon the passing of my trials. I am honored to meet your acquaintance.” He offered his hand and she shook it with a firm grip.

  “Likewise. It is a pleasure to meet you too...” Realization flitted across her face and she snapped her fingers. “If you’re taking your trials, then Dalmarn must be your proctor. That’s got to be miserable.”

  Rian drew back, narrowing his eyes. “And what would make you think that? You barely even know me.”

  Her understanding look disarmed his suspicions before they could even begin. “You’re a noble,” she said. “He doesn’t care much for them.”

  That’s for certain. He snorted before giving in, “Your gift for understatement is truly impressive. Yes, it is miserable. He is a true bastard, whose greatest goal is my aggravation, whose…”

  As they made their way down the dark and dreary halls, he told her how the man had almost cost him the First Trial with his sabotage.

  When he finished, she let out a sigh, shaking her head. “I know him well and can see him doing exactly what you just said. Don’t mistake him though - he’s a good person… if not a particularly fair one. There’s a reason he despises the nobility.”

  “And what is that? What could he have possibly endured that justifies his actions toward me?”

  “It is a long story, but simply put, he had to take a much harder road to become a mage thanks to a noble.”

  He digested her words before glaring back. “Forgive me, but that hardly seems fair. One noble put him through misery, so he makes it so every one of us has to take the same miserable path he did?”

  She tapped the hilt of her sword again, eying him in consideration, before finally grimacing. “Trust me when I say it’s far greater than what you’re thinking, but I cannot say more. It is his story to share, but I wouldn’t judge him too harshly.”

  Rian wondered just what this story was but allowed the matter to drop. Besides, it didn’t really matter anyway. Regardless of how great his personal sufferings were, they did not justify Dalmarn taking out his wrongs on others. “So why are you wishing to meet with such a man?”

  Sachiel smiled, perhaps relieved herself at the change of subject. “Ah, that. Let’s just say that I’m looking into the unrest to the east and could use the help of an old friend.”

  He glanced back at her, taking in her smooth skin, long bright hair and youthful form. Although he didn’t say it aloud, he felt that ‘old’ was definitely the appropriate term to use for Dalmarn by comparison.

  The shadows wrapped around them anew as they made their way deeper into the corridors, passing a cloaked man with a polite nod. He watched them idly as they came to Dalmarn’s door.

  This time, he was better prepared for the thundering boom when he knocked. The owl let out a cry and the door opened as before.

  She leaned in and whispered, “He likes a fighter. Given time, I’m sure he’ll like you too.” Before he could reply, she swept inside to greet Dalmarn, her cloak trailing behind her like a banner of blood.

  Rian raised an eyebrow. He would believe that when he saw it.

  Dalmarn raised his eyebrows at Sachiel’s entrance but waved her by without comment, before turning to Rian with a sneer. “Are you quite finished standing around? I thought you had a trial to take, or is lazing about a common trait amongst,” he looked down his nose at Rian, dark eyes glinting, “your sort?”

  Not dignifying that with a comment, Rian hurried inside.

  Sachiel had seated herself at one of the chairs by the desk, seemingly unbothered by the moss that covered everything. Instead, she relaxed, leaning forward to massage her stocking-clad calves. As his eyes fell upon her, she smiled as if to say ‘don’t worry about me’ and tilted her head back toward Dalmarn with an expectant look upon her face.

  Dalmarn narrowed his eyes at her but sighed and bobbed his shiny bald head ever so slightly. “I suppose I should thank you for escorting my young friend. Now, your… lordship, are you prepared to take the Second Trial?”

  He didn’t fail to notice that Dalmarn hadn’t actually thanked him despite his own words. Still, he kept his voice as even as he could manage it. “I will not fall for the same trick twice. First, tell me what the trial consists of, then I will let you know when I am ready.”

  Dalmarn’s sneer only deepened. “Tell me,” he said, “do nobles learn such cheek or does it come out of their mother’s womb with them?”

  “Yes, we learn it right after horse-riding,” he deadpanned and Sachiel let out a laugh that she quickly disguised as a cough, “now tell me the rules for the Second Trial!”

  For a moment, he thought he saw the barest flicker of a smile before Dalmarn said, “Very well… There will be a cavern filled with obstacles, all crafted from spellwork and enchanting. Your goal
is to get to the end and place your hand upon the emerald there.”

  “Seems simple enough. So if I touch it, I pass?”

  “Yes, as long as you survive.” This time, Dalmarn did smile, but it was touched with malice. “We’ll stop the test if you get beaten into unconsciousness, but accidents do happen. Try not to die.”

  Dalmarn was trying to intimidate him, he told himself. Surely the bastard wasn’t allowed to just kill off applicants. Just intimidation. “No other conditions then? No need to hop on one foot as I complete it?”

  “Sadly, while that would be amusing to observe, there are no other conditions.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything else he might need to know. Nothing came readily to mind. “Very well, I am ready.”

  “Then follow me.” Dalmarn led him deeper into his dank demesne. The moss thickened as they went, coating the walls, floor and ceiling, everything buried under the dark green carpet.

  Everything, that is, save for the door that Dalmarn guided him to. Bright silver and engraved with a fox’s head that was so well-crafted that it looked as if its nose might wriggle and sniff at them; it glared down at Rian with the weight of ages. Unlike everything else, it was untouched, whether it be by the moss or seemingly even time itself.

  A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Logic said that this must be the site of his Second Trial, but the sense of foreboding that overcame him had nothing to do with logic. The air here seethed with magic.

  Dalmarn smirked down at him, unaffected and enjoying his unease. “Touch the door to begin, if you can manage something so complex.”

  Ignoring the hateful man, Rian swallowed his fear before reaching out and pressing his hand against the fox’s snout.

  Everything vanished in blinding light.

  ***

  When the light faded, an expansive chamber laid before him, cut deeply into natural rock, a cavern the size of his castle’s courtyard; it was lit by torches burning with a pale blue flame that cast everything in azure shades.