by V. St. Clair
“Absolutely not!” she actually slammed her hand against the table as she said it. “Sure, sometimes you tease people, and sometimes it’s annoying, but that doesn’t cancel out all the good, thoughtful things you do!”
Good and thoughtful? Are we still talking about me?
“Uh…those are not two adjectives that are generally associated with my name,” he replied with raised eyebrows. “What have I ever done that’s so awesome?”
“You help me and Maralynn with our homework whenever we ask for it, even though you’ve got your own stuff to work on and I know Aleric teases you for wasting time on us.”
Asher was surprised that she knew about his friend giving him a hard time for helping “the commoners” with anything, often forgetting that Asher was one of them by birth. He’d pointed this out to his best friend once and was told that he was magically skillful enough to separate himself from the affiliation, but that he was wasting his time with average mages like Maralynn and Tricia.
“Aleric comes from one of the greatest Great Houses in the Nine Lands. If he’s a little bit…haughty about it, I try not to hold it against him,” he explained lightly. “And I don’t mind helping people with their homework when I can.”
Truthfully, he had made the offer to Mara alone, in the hopes of spending more time with her and eventually making her realize that they were much better suited for each other than she and Aleric, who would hardly give her the time of day if she asked for it. Once Tricia learned that he was feeling charitable with his time, she occasionally began asking him for help as well, and it would have been quite rude of him to say no while making himself available to Maralynn at all hours of the day and night.
“You also let me be the leader in our arena group, even though we all know you’d do a better job of it, because you know it means a lot to me,” she continued, cheeks bright red with embarrassment now.
Again, Asher was surprised by the observation. He had thought he was being more subtle, taking a backseat whenever he could and deferring to her during the arenas, even though the others tended to look to him naturally when they were in trouble.
“Well, like you said…it means a lot more to you than it does to me,” he answered awkwardly, not sure what else to say.
“And I know you’ve been throwing your duels with Aleric, letting him win and have all the bragging rights for it.”
Asher slammed his chair legs against the ground as he lurched forward and clamped a hand over her mouth, as though he could cram the words back in. Reflexively, he looked around to make sure no one had overheard, even though the door was still shut and they were the only two people in the room.
Face inches from hers, he looked into her stunned eyes and said, “Never say that out loud again. Ever.”
She nodded mutely, and Asher removed his hand from her mouth and returned his seat to its previous position, trying to get comfortable again. This was something he had worked furiously to conceal from everyone, especially his best friend, because Aleric was the prideful sort, and if he ever found out that Asher was forcing himself to slow down his casting or pulling his punches…
“I’ve never understood why you do it,” Tricia whispered, clearly afraid of setting him off again. “I remember even in your first year, you were the faster caster…you even beat him for a spot in the I.S.C.”
Yes, and his father grounded him for the summer and called him the shame of the family. Aleric had to train seven hours a day with a natural prism-user they brought over from Isenfall until term resumed.
“Things change,” he shrugged airily. “He worked his butt off and I’ve been slacking off, so he got faster and more accurate than me.”
“I don’t believe that,” Tricia continued in that same soft tone. “I’ve seen you cast when he’s not there, in an emergency during our arenas, and you’re faster than ever. You never misaim unless you’re fighting him either.”
“You must be watching me awfully closely to know any of these things,” Asher replied, to give himself time to think, raising a critical eyebrow. “Don’t have any better hobbies to devote yourself to?”
Tricia blushed again but held her ground.
“I’m observant, not a stalker. I know you go easy on him though, and now everyone thinks he’s better than you, and he gets all the praise for it while you get nothing from the Masters but scorn.”
Asher exhaled heavily and said, “It means more to Aleric than it does to me. Being on top is the most important thing to his family, which means it’s the most important thing to him. You don’t know him like I do, so you haven’t had to see all of the horrible ways they punish him whenever he makes even the tiniest mistake. My father couldn’t care less whether I bring home any medals, so it doesn’t matter if I’m not on top of the charts.”
Tricia looked oddly touched as she said, “I don’t see how anyone can say you’re a mean person.”
For some reason her faith in him both bolstered and annoyed him. He scowled and said, “If you breathe a word of what I’ve told you to anyone else, so help me…”
“I won’t, I promise,” she cut him off, getting to her feet. “I’ll let you get back to your work now, but you should get something to eat soon and call it a night.”
“Thanks, I’ll try,” he waved her off, watching her leave with the intent of warding the door once she was gone to prevent further interruptions.
Tricia stopped at the threshold and looked back at him.
“Don’t change who you are just because of a few people who either don’t know you or are jealous of you told you to. There are plenty of people who like you just the way you are, and they’re the ones who matter.”
If only Mara was one of them…
“Thanks, Trish, I’ll keep it in mind.”
She left the room but he didn’t put the wards back up, sitting in his chair thinking for a long moment after her absence.
She’s right. Enough moping about, worrying about the opinions of people who don’t know me at all.
Satisfied with himself for pulling out of his mental slump, he decided to take Tricia’s advice after all and wrap things up for the night.
4
Stay of Execution
Aleric cocked his head to one side and asked, “Wasn’t that river pink about ten seconds ago?” of no one in particular, staring at the trickling brook that flowed over the rocks in their path, which had, until recently, been shockingly pink. Now it was a murky brown.
“I don’t know,” Asher answered him jovially, “I was too busy watching that flying badger, who decided Master Antwar’s hair was a close, personal rival, to notice the water.”
Aleric chuckled and took in his surroundings on a wider scale once more. The Forest of Illusions was possibly the mostly aptly-named piece of land in the entirety of the Nine Lands. It was a place so steeped in magic that it was impossible to tell its exact dimensions, or to untangle the onslaught of illusions, reality, and raw power that bombarded all who entered. The birthplace of all magically-inclined creatures, familiars and monsters alike, the Forest was so unstable that every few years it abruptly changed location, even appearing on the opposite end of the continent occasionally.
“Yes, and much help you both were while I was being attacked,” the Prism Master rolled his eyes at the pair of them, checking his hair to make sure it was still attached to his head and then glancing around to ensure there were no more flying badgers in the area.
“Hey, at least I tried to swat it away,” Asher defended himself in tones of mock-injury.
“While laughing raucously, yes,” Master Antwar conceded.
“Since Aleric just stood there staring at the river we have to cross, that should still make me the good one.”
Aleric vented a short laugh but then turned back to their more immediate problem.
“I assumed you two capable mages could take on one scrawny, winged badger,” he goaded the others gently.
“Scrawny?” his best friend grinned at him
. “That thing had to weigh thirty pounds! It could’ve eaten Horace and Cinder both, and had room for dessert.”
Aleric looked for his familiar reflexively, used to knowing that the dark purple dragonling was flying nearby. Then he remembered that Cinder and Horace—Asher’s falcon—would be back at Mizzenwald right now, awaiting their return. Master Antwar rarely let them bring their familiars along during their tests.
Both Aleric and Asher had responded with enthusiasm when the Prism Master told them that their practical exam for the week would take place inside the Forest of Illusions, though the former suspected that his best friend was merely putting on show. As far as Aleric knew, the Forest of Illusions had always given Asher the creeps, ever since his first experience inside it during the I.S.C. at the age of eleven.
The year he beat me in tryouts and became the Prism of Mizzenwald in the competition.
It was still galling to think of how much weaker and slower he had been than his friend in those early days, and the punishment from his father that had resulted from his failures. That was when he had finally gotten the message that there was no time for fun and games at school; not for him, at least. From then on, he took his education much more seriously.
I’ve won the I.S.C.for Mizzenwald twice since then, he assured himself. Though Asher won the entire thing when he was eleven…
“So, how are we supposed to cross this tiny little river that we could probably walk through without even getting our ankles wet?” Asher broke his train of thought. “It can’t be that simple; nothing in this ridiculous place ever is.”
Aleric wasn’t sure why his friends—and most other mages—were unsettled by the Forest of Illusions. He had always found it serene and strangely beautiful, if bizarre.
“Probably not,” he agreed with Asher. “It’ll likely make our feet fall off if we try to step through it, or perhaps it’s actually forty feet deep and only looks shallow from here.” He deliberately avoided looking at the Prism Master for instructions, since this was supposed to be their test. They were tasked with navigating the Forest to recover some bright-thorn for the Master of Wands, who needed it for his research. Most of the materials used for magical weaponry and research came from the Forest of Illusions, making the place the very heartbeat of the magical world.
Still, most people hated coming here if they could avoid it, which is why detentions, exams, and other punishments tended to be carried out here with older students who could defend themselves.
“I suppose we could just Suspend ourselves over it,” Aleric shrugged, twisting the violet prism rapidly in his eyepiece until he found the alignment, wondering—as always—whether Asher could have found it faster. Despite being best friends, he had always felt the competition between them.
Without waiting to see what the others thought of his idea, he cast the magic to levitate himself in mid-air. The magical effect was amplified in the Forest, and he flew about six feet higher than he’d intended to, which might have been the only thing that saved him from the enormous shark that lunged at him from the impossibly shallow depths of the water.
Before he could even raise a hand to turn his prism he was pushed forward by some invisible force, landing face-down on the opposite side of the rill and spitting leaves from his mouth after sitting up.
“Sorry for the shove,” Asher called out cheerfully from the opposite bank. “I didn’t want to have to explain to the Frost clan why their scion was coming back to them without legs this weekend.”
Aleric rolled his eyes and got to his feet, brushing wet leaves off of his pants.
How in the world can his reflexes be that fast?
“I appreciate it; one of the few advantages I have over my father is my height. I’d hate to lose my edge entirely.” He smirked and folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Let’s see how you get across.”
Asher had a better imagination than anyone he knew, so he was expecting something bizarre but spectacular from his friend to move him from one side of the water to the other.
Instead he just shook his head and said, “I’m not crossing that deathtrap after seeing you almost get torn apart. The bright-thorn is about twenty feet behind you; grab it and we’ll just go.”
Master Antwar pursed his lips but refrained from voicing his obvious displeasure at one of his star students giving up partway through a test. Aleric couldn’t help but notice that his mentor didn’t look disappointed, merely annoyed, like he knew Asher was capable of better and was just refusing to exert himself for some reason.
Maybe he knows something I don’t.
If Asher’s research topic was enormously more ambitious and groundbreaking than his, it would explain why the Prism Master was irked at him not performing on a lesser task that he was clearly capable of. Aleric enjoyed the privacy of not having his own work spied on and judged by his peers, but he often wished someone would tell him what his main competition was working on so he knew how he stacked up in comparison.
“Suit yourself,” Aleric shrugged and turned away, facing the bright-thorn that was only a few yards away. Of course, distance and time could be very deceptive inside of the Forest of Illusions, but maybe he’d get lucky and it would be as near as it looked.
“Just a minute now,” the Prism Master called out from beside Asher. “I don’t want us getting separated in here.”
“If I get spirited away to a different part of the Forest, I’ll just translocate myself back to Mizzenwald once I’ve gotten the bright-thorn,” he called back, determined to complete the exam, if only because he hated unfinished tasks.
Master Antwar sounded like he was prepared to argue with him, so Aleric stepped forward without waiting to hear his mentor’s response. He hadn’t gone more than three feet when the forest changed on him, and the brook, the bright-thorn, and both of his companions vanished from sight.
“Of course,” Aleric mumbled, though truthfully he wasn’t bothered by the solitude. He walked forward, ears alert for any sounds of nearby animals or other magic-traps, passing beneath some sort of hanging flower that formed a curtain in front of him. The white buds hung so low on their vines that he had to brush them away from his face as he walked through them, emerging through the other side of the canopy and removing stray bits of white flower from his hair and shoulders.
A pure white fox with intelligent golden eyes stepped into his line of sight, watching him with that unnerving intelligence that magically-inclined creatures possessed.
“Hello, friend,” Aleric inclined his head respectfully to it. He may hail from a Great House, but he had enormous respect for the animals in the Forest of Illusions; any one of them possessed a more powerful Source than even the strongest of mages. Only a fool would think himself above them, simply because they weren’t human.
What do you seek?
Aleric jumped at the whisper inside of his mind, because it felt like it came from someone other than him. He frowned and stared harder at the fox, wondering if he was losing his mind with hallucinations; for all he knew, Asher was standing right beside him and there was no fox at all. It was impossible to be certain of anything in the Forest of Illusions.
“I’m here for some bright-thorn,” he responded, looking around for any sign of it, though it was nowhere to be found.
He blinked and the fox disappeared, to be replaced by a middle-aged woman who shared his blond hair.
“Mother?” Aleric asked tentatively, now certain that he was seeing some sort of illusion, since his mother had no reason to be in the Forest of Illusions right now, nor did she have the same strange golden eyes as the white fox from before.
“What do you seek?” his mother asked in a flat voice that didn’t belong to her, focusing those unnerving eyes on him.
“I’m not seeking anything except bright-thorn for an exam,” he insisted.
“What do you seek?” she repeated without changing expression.
“Stop asking me that; I don’t know what you want from me!” he snappe
d, taking a step backwards.
His mother disappeared and now he was alone, though the disembodied voice was whispering in his head again.
Ask the question….What do you seek…?
Frustrated and nervous, Aleric asked the first question that came to mind, hoping to satisfy whatever magic trap he had fallen into so that he could continue along his way.
“Am I the most powerful prism-user at Mizzenwald?” he wasn’t entirely sure why that was the first thought to come to him right now; perhaps because he was still wondering how the other two would have crossed the river if he hadn’t abandoned them.
No, the voice whispered back in his head.
He felt the “no” like a shard of ice in his stomach. If not him, it had to be either Master Antwar or Asher; for some reason he suspected the latter, though he had never battled the former in true combat.
Then again, maybe the voice was lying to him. There was nothing down in the rule book that said all magical hallucinations must tell the truth when asked a direct question…
“Is Asher the most powerful prism-user at Mizzenwald?” he tried again, still searching for the source of the voice in his head but not finding anything other than a few bright red-and-white spotted plants that looked like they had teeth.
Yes.
Now he knew it was a lie, because he beat Asher in at least three-quarters of their duels, and on most of their practical exams. Sure, they both topped their written examinations, but Aleric’s arena team was ranked higher on the rosters. The disembodied voice was simply meant to feed on his doubts and insecurities. Realizing this, he relaxed marginally, expecting the trap to vanish from around him.
It didn’t.
After a protracted moment of silence he asked, “Will I ever be more powerful than him?” wondering how long he was going to have to talk to this stupid disembodied voice before it left him alone.
Yes.
That gave him pause. Why lie about Asher being the stronger of them if it was then going to tell him he’d eventually come out on top anyway? If it was trying to humble him or play on his doubts, it should have told him he’d never be better than his best friend…
