The Mage Trials

by Charles Cackler

  Rather than enduring a lecture, Rian quickly cut it off by saying, “You are right. I felt it was for a good reason but it does not matter. I was followed.”

  Soren froze, the silverware clattering to the plate below. “He followed y - when? Where? How?”

  He relayed the gist of what had happened, explaining that he had hoped for help with the assassin through a contact of Alensia’s to no avail, but when he mentioned the cloaked figure that had been following them, Soren paled. He knew what it entailed, just as Rian did.

  With this, whatever tiny hopes there had been of the attempted assassination being a one-time attempt, or their investigation perhaps frightening off the Gazifs, were well and truly dashed. He was sneaking about, looking for the chance to strike a second time.

  Soren began to pace, his eyebrows furrowed. “Either it was the assassin or someone working with him, not that it really makes a difference…” He trailed off, frowning. “Wait, why was that common woman with you?”

  “She was helping me with the lead. Does it really matter under the circumstances?”

  “I suppose not,” Soren massaged his forehead. “Well, if it wasn’t clear before, this assassin’s danger is blindingly obvious now. You couldn’t have been gone for more than a couple hours before he was upon you.” He considered, then nodded in decision. “We must treat this threat with the utmost caution. As soon as the Third Trial is finished and we have gathered sufficient guards, we’re returning to Houndstooth and staying there until he is caught.”

  “But how will I attend -“ Rian closed his mouth, already knowing the answer.

  Soren confirmed it a moment later. “You won’t attend the Royal Academy, not until this man is found. Rian, I understand this magic stuff is important to you. While you should focus on things that actually matter, I have no true objections as long as you act in a manner befitting House Miel. However, I will not allow you to throw your life away over it. Once these trials are complete, we are returning home, is that clear?”

  He wanted to object but couldn’t bring himself to even utter the words. Soren was right. What good would it be to go to the Royal Academy if he woke up with a dagger between his shoulder blades? He bowed his head. “Yes, it is clear.”

  “Good,” Soren’s voice softened, “if need be, we might be able to hire more tutors to train you further once you’ve passed the trials. That’s what is really stopping you from what it is you desire, isn’t it?”

  To an extent, it was true. The Mage Trials were designed to be the barrier between someone learning the basic magics and those allowed what secrets laid beyond. It wouldn’t be the same thing, there wouldn’t be the same resources and he would wait far longer to become a true mage, but at least he would be alive to learn those secrets.

  “I suppose,” he said grudgingly, “while there still might be some limits, it would be tolerable.”

  “Very well, and rest assured, your lordship, we will find him. Regardless of what the Crimson Order might do, we are one of the seventy-seven great families, with all the power that implies.” Soren’s smile was all teeth. “By the time we are done, there won’t be so much as a single leaf he can hide under.”

  ***

  Even with their reinvigorated search though, there was no sign of the assassin. Soren wondered aloud if the man might wait until they left to actually strike so he could attack when they were alone and away from the academy’s guards.

  It was a logical thought but Rian didn’t trust it and after the near-disaster the last time he tried to leave the academy, he stayed in their rooms until the morning the Third Trial arrived.

  After three days of nervousness and worry, his stomach felt like so much as the smallest nibble would cause it to heave. Still, he persisted in eating a small meal of browned sausage and honeyed milk. When he returned to the dark catacombs beneath the academy, he was careful to keep watch for the assassin, one hand always on his Spellstone. Just in case.

  At least the Crimson Order seemed to have helped some. They had set a curfew for the duration of the trials and a couple of times he saw their red cloaks dimly through the shadows.

  Perhaps that was why he arrived at Dalmarn’s chambers without incident.

  He was far from the first one there though. Nearly a hundred others filled the moss-ridden domicile, milling about nervously. Almost half were now bearing the finely-tailored attire of the merchants and nobles, while the rest were a rather motley array. So many people packed into the warm room gave it a rather sour odor, yet they were far fewer than the hundreds he had seen at the beginning. The first two trials had winnowed away the vast majority of them and only the final few remained.

  Dalmarn was nowhere to be seen, but Alensia waved him over to a thick patch of moss in the corner. There was a smile on her face but he couldn’t help but note the purplish circles underneath her eyes. “Hello again, young lord. Did you sleep well last night?”

  In spite of all his fears and concerns, a lack of sleep hadn’t been one of the maladies he’d suffered from. He’d been so exhausted after each day’s efforts in finding the assassin that he’d fallen right asleep. “Yes, although I have been feeling rather queasy.”

  “Ooh, sounds like we both had trouble. I’ve been so nervous I barely slept.”

  After what happened, he could hardly blame her for being worried. ”Having second thoughts about the danger?”

  “No, actually.” Alensia chuckled, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. “I have no doubts about helping you, not in the slightest. I’m worried about whether I’ll be able to pass. If I fail today it’ll be two years before the next chance.”

  That was true for him as well. If he failed today, it would be a long time before he could try again, and that was if he got another chance. With his responsibilities and the assassin following him… He shook his head, trying to clear the troubling thoughts.

  To distract himself, he glanced around. “I wonder who we will be facing…”

  “Not sure. Anybody in this room could be our opponents.” A soft yawn escaped her. “I hope I get an easy one though.”

  Rian kept quiet but he felt the same. After the grueling trial before it, an easy foe would be welcome indeed.

  A quiet sigh came from his companion. “I wanted to ask… That woman yesterday… you didn’t like her at all, even though she helped us. Why?”

  “She is a Redcloak,” he couldn’t help but snarl, reminded of yesterday’s arguments with Sachiel. “Shouldn’t that be enough of a reason?

  The only sound was the chatter of those around them but Alensia knit her eyebrows together thoughtfully. Finally, she leaned back, closing her eyes. “Maybe I am naive, but while there are many corrupt nobles and knights, I didn't think that she was one of them from the way she protected us from her own comrade.”

  Rian pressed his lips together, but in spite of the politeness of her words, he knew she was looking for a response, a reason for his actions. “When King Iruel and his family died, his brother…” his voice hardened, “The crown is meant to rest upon the shoulders of the nobility, those who have served the kingdom for generations and have been honored for doing so. As a symbol of this, while the crown may call upon the levies of any lord, it may have no army of its own, and it is only permitted to claim one order of knights for itself, the personal guard of the king: the Crimson Order.”

  “However,” he continued, “King Zeruel found a loophole there. While the Crimson Order is stated to be the most honored of knightly orders, there is no official limit to the number who may serve, so long as the order’s grandmaster invites them in and the king approves them. The grandmaster started inviting anyone willing to join into their ranks and the king approved, so now the Crimson Order numbers thousands, including the worst of scum, each with the king’s authority.” He shook his head derisively. “If she is a good person, she should not be a part of the Order, not while it is in such a state.”

  “Maybe,” she shrugged, “but if you think she is a go
od person, then why does it matter if she is a part of the Crimson Order? Surely we would want such a person to have the king’s authority, not those like Graff.”

  He blinked, opened his mouth… and closed it without speaking, troubled at her point.

  Before he could think to say more, the door slammed open with a bang and Dalmarn stormed in. His dark robes trailed behind him as he made his way through the crowd to stand in front of his desk. He narrowed his eyes, surveying those in attendance.

  There was no movement from the crowd, not even the slightest shuffling as all eyes fixed upon him.

  Dalmarn allowed the silence to linger on for a few moments before he began to speak. “To those eager to join the ranks of the magi, welcome to your final challenge.” His gaze passed over Rian and emotion flickered briefly on his face before he continued, “Succeed today and you will be one of us, but before we begin, I have a few words about what being a mage actually means.”

  In spite of how Rian despised the man, he found himself leaning forward, curious.

  “I am no fool. You have many reasons for taking this path. Some wish to better themselves, others gain wealth or power and a few simply wish to gain the ability to defend themselves. Regardless of reason or goal, however, those who join our ranks will have a responsibility that they must never forget… The Royal Academy is an ancient institution, built during the Camryn dynasty. Before that time, magic was known by few and used by fewer. Only those of noble birth and bloodline were permitted to learn it.” Dalmarn’s gaze fell upon Rian and his jaw tightened. “The Camryns chose to change that. To protect Rasgor, they established the magi, allowing anyone to learn magic so long as they promised to be a shield and sword for the kingdom.

  “Now, that dynasty perished long ago, but the Royal Academy continues on and our purpose remains the same. We are Rasgor’s greatest weapon against those who would seek to harm it. So, whatever your goal, remember that duty. Above all else, we protect Rasgor.”

  Silence fell in the wake of the speech, the words hanging heavy. Some applicants looked to each other, others wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze and a few just looked bored.

  For Rian, it was both an affirmation and a source of confusion. Affirmation because, as one of Rasgor’s nobles, this was his duty, and magic was one way he would do it. Confusion because, of all people, it was Dalmarn saying it.

  Then the man sneered down at them. “Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, it is time to finish this. Let us begin the Third Trial. Our first match will be…” he unfurled a scroll… and paused, before turning to face Rian and giving a smile that was wide with malicious delight. Enunciating each word like he was biting into the finest of steaks, he said, “Rian Miel and Alensia, come to the front!”

  Rian’s heart froze in his chest.

  Of all the people, he had to face his friend? Part of him wondered if this were Dalmarn’s idea, one final chance to sabotage him. No, he realized, if Dalmarn were trying to sabotage him, there were more challenging opponents than his pupil. This was just a cruel whim of fate, making it so that if he wanted to achieve his dream, he would have to crush Alensia’s.

  Turning to his friend, he tried to come up with something to say but all he could manage was a simple, “I am sorry.”

  Her eyes were wide with worry, but she mustered an encouraging smile. “It’s alright. Remember the rules. We can both pass if we perform well, so let’s do our best and we’ll be fine!”

  The words did little to ease the lump in his throat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A skinny, robed mage led the two of them to a now-familiar door, a polite smile on her face. She reminded them of how the Third Trial worked, that it was a fight to unconsciousness or surrender, with the winner joining the ranks of the magi, before confirming with each of them that they were prepared for the battle ahead.

  Rian barely heard her, lost in his thoughts. So the final opponent would be his friend. For all they’d both struggled, only one of them could win. Dalmarn himself couldn’t have thought of a crueler fate and it was all up to him. He could win or he could let her win.

  If she won, it would be more than a year until he could try again, and that was if his family dealt with the assassin and his duties, but if he won, she wouldn’t be able to care for her son.

  Or would she? He considered it quickly. He was second-in-line to House Miel with everything that implied. He could hire her as a servant once the marital negotiations were finished and, even if that proved undoable, he received more coinage from his family for incidentals in a month than Alensia would probably need in a year.

  Yes, that would work. Alensia would just have to wait a little bit longer before becoming a mage. All he would need to do was… hurt his friend.

  His stomach dropped and he glanced at her, his gaze tracing the laugh lines upon her face and greying tips of her hair. She was talented, yes, but older and had been through so much already. She had helped him so much, giving him the information he needed to prepare to fight the assassin. Could he really do this?

  His thoughts strayed to long hours spent alone in a tower trying to devour every last scrap of knowledge he could. His friends were gone, his family there but only patronizing him, his dreams were filled with blood and blame… and he nodded reluctantly. He had to become a mage, no matter what.

  Still, he would be as gentle with her as possible.

  “Good luck, may the better spellcaster win,” Alensia said quietly, not smiling this time. Her voice was tired and not from lack of sleep. She hated this as much as he did.

  “Good fortune to you as well,” he murmured. If she impressed the proctors, perhaps his plan wouldn’t be needed anyway. Maybe they could both be mages. It was a feeble rod but it was all he had.

  They nodded at one another and turned to the silver door. The fox’s eyes looked down upon them, its unmoving expression filled with disappointment.

  One flash of light later and they were in the same rocky cave where he had taken his Second Trial. For some reason though, in spite of how his spells had ravaged it, it was completely covered in green moss again.

  As if in answer to his unspoken question, Dalmarn’s voice echoed through the chamber. “This place has been a training area for the magi for generations, to the point that even the very moss is infused with magic… part of why it always grows back and fills my office!” he growled, the grinding of his teeth audible. “Now, wait for the signal, then you can begin. You may use any spell in your arsenal to defeat your opponent although we would prefer that you avoid killing one another.”

  In spite of Dalmarn’s words, Rian found himself calming down. After this, there would be no more wondering, no more doubts. The hot air of the cavern had a promise to it, a feel of culmination that made his blood pump all the faster in anticipation of what was to come.

  This was his chance to show everything he had struggled for and all that he had learned. He had come all this way and now only Alensia stood between him and what he’d wanted for so long. He just hoped defeating her wouldn’t require harming her too much. Taking a long, slow breath, he drew a green Spellstone from his pocket and inclined his head respectfully. “Are you ready?”

  Alensia bowed in turn, a sad smile upon her face. “I am, actually. I worked hard to reach this point and I want to discover just how far that will take me… I just didn’t think it would be against you,” she pulled a ruby-red triangle out of her robes. It shimmered like blood in the cavern’s low light. “How about you? Are you ready, young lord?”

  He braced himself. “Indeed. Do your best, I certainly will.”

  Dalmarn’s voice boomed once more, “Begin!”

  Alensia’s expression hardened and her Spellstone ignited with a scarlet radiance that grew brighter with every passing moment.

  Rian moved instantly, focusing his strength into his own Spellstone. This was a different one than the one he’d used in the Second Trial, one focused on capturing and disabling rather than utter dest
ruction.

  It was equally familiar to him and even faster to cast, so only a moment passed before he unleashed his spell: Arbol Arrow; it was a green orb about the size of a man’s fist and hurtled through the air like its namesake. Upon impact, it would burst into a mass of rope-like vines and truss her up.

  Rather than follow up with another, he waited to see how she would react. Would she try to block or dodge?

  She did neither, instead continuing her channeling. Her spell must have been much slower to cast though, as it wasn’t until his own was mere feet away that she finished.

  A bolt of crimson lightning erupted from her hands, causing the entire cavern to tremble with a roar like thunder. The spell ripped through his attack like it was paper and burst forward, only a desperate dodge preventing it from slamming straight into his chest; instead, it passed him by mere inches before continuing on, exploding against the far wall of the cavern with a monstrous boom.

  Rian’s ears rang as he stared at Alensia, mouth agape. “W-What was that?”

  “I wouldn’t be too impressed; it’s my only spell,” Alensia grinned toothily, the expression taking years off her face, “but it has quite a kick to it, I admit.”

  Quite a kick? He wasn’t sure if his own Force Wave would be much greater. To think that the whole time he’d been tutoring her, she’d had something like this tucked away! Well, Arbol Arrow clearly wasn’t an option - she’d blow right through it every time. The only way to win was overpowering her. Pulling out the grey sphere, he nodded, “Do not go congratulating yourself just yet. I still have another spell myself.”

  “Good, let’s see how this goes, young lord.” Her Spellstone glowed crimson, giving her face a fiery cast. “Show me all you know!”

  A test of might then, what he had mastered over years of practice versus Alensia’s raw talent. He gathered his strength until it felt like his body was one mass of energy, the Spellstone eagerly sucking away every bit it could. Still, he held back, having no desire to shatter his friend’s bones to win if he could avoid it.