by Olivia Ash
Chapter Four
My first mark is the chief, and I punch him square in the face. Years of getting my knuckles broken as they beat me to a pulp gave me a wicked right jab, and he goes down like a pile of bricks.
Of course, I just signed my own death warrant by attacking the chief of the troll village, but I will not go down easy.
The trolls charge.
Trolls are mean, nasty creatures and will sink to any low if it means they win. No one knows this better than I do. To win this fight, both Deacon and I will have to be smart about each move we make and try to outwit them as much as possible.
It dawns on me to let the professor know this. “They cheat!”
“Thanks for the warning,” he shouts as he twists around and blasts the trolls running up behind him with a blast of light that looks a lot like bolts of lightning but bluer. A loud boom resonates through the forest as it connects with the trolls. He doesn’t stop, instead moving on to the next troll.
Meanwhile, I dodge the club aimed for my head as a fist connects with my gut.
“Hold still so I can hit you,” Fek says.
“Don’t count on it,” I retort as I slide to the ground and slam my foot into the troll’s kneecap. He groans in pain as another troll comes to take Fek’s place.
I dodge and weave between them, knowing my erratic movements are going to do nothing but piss them off more. And that’s exactly what I want. A pissed-off troll makes mistakes.
As I duck blow after blow, a delightful little tremor shoots through me. My magic burns and boils in my blood, and I’m surprised to find that I actually enjoy this.
The fight.
In fact, the rush of slurs and growls the trolls keep throwing at me is hard not to laugh at.
The chief charges into the fray, his furious glare trained on me. When he finally goes to land a blow to my face, I duck, and he hits the troll that was sneaking up on me. He slams his club into the other’s head, and I chuckle.
This is kind of fun.
A red blast of heat rushes behind me and I turn to find another troll ignite in flames. I face Deacon, and he nods, lips in a grim line. I nod and return to the fight as a female charges me with a makeshift knife made of sharpened stone. Her eyes are full of rage and fury. “No one hits the chief!”
“Well, I just did. Now what?”
I fall to my butt and roll, kicking up my feet in the air. As she goes to land on me, I plant my feet in her stomach and use her momentum to roll back, sending her into a tumble on the ground, and I follow through, landing on my feet.
All around us is chaos. Magic flares and burning flesh and wood, mixed with screams, growls, and the electric snaps of the professor’s magic. My own magic pulsates and rushes through me, but I can’t use my magic. Not in front of Deacon. It’s too dangerous. At least until I know about how I was able to perform magic without a conduit.
That will have to remain my secret.
For now.
Even if Deacon Lawrence conveniently showed up at the right time, there is still something about him I’m not quite sure about. There is more he needs to tell me before I will trust him completely. Even though he is able to hold his own in a fight, I will never get the answers I need if the trolls somehow outwit this man and kill him.
And with each troll downed, two more seem to come.
That confirms it. The whole village came looking for me. I can’t help but wonder what sort of unpleasant things they had planned for me for losing the hunt again as I continue to stay out of reach of the trolls. If Deacon hadn’t shown up, I probably would have been put in those chains like the chief threatened.
A force hits me hard in the back and I fall to my hands and knees. Sharp stabbing pain shoots up my arms and legs as bits of rock and bark embed into my skin. I don’t let that distract me for long. Looking over my shoulder, Gnars is about to kick me in my stomach. I quickly roll out of the way, and his foot slides out from underneath him. He seems to hover in the air for a moment as the realization dawns on him that he’s about to land on his back.
And he does. With a loud thud.
“Serves you right, cheater,” I say.
He groans and slowly climbs to his feet. When he faces me, he says, “You will pay for that.”
“I’m afraid I’m not in charge of gravity, so that one’s on you.”
I dodge the fist aimed for my gut by twisting out of the way and ramming my elbow into the back of his ribs. He gasps and tries to recover as one of his buddies runs up with a club, ready to swing at my head.
Without hesitation, I chamber my left leg in front of me and as soon as he is close enough, I kick with all the force I have in me. He’s knocked back, taking down two others with him.
My magic pulsates stronger, and I bite my lip against it. I cannot lose control over the power within me. Not this close. I could kill Deacon—or, worse, he could discover my darkness.
I’m kicking ass, sure. But I would totally own this fight with my magic.
I try to shove that thought and my magic down as Gnars finally recovers. I face him, eye to eye.
“What will it be, Gnars?” I ask. “Fight and lose more of your people, or end this and let us go?”
“You belong to us.” He huffs. “You will never go anywhere else. When we’re back, I’ll chop off your legs so you can never run away again.”
I square my shoulders and lift my head higher. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
“Cowards run,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “I never said I was going to run.”
Without missing a beat, I land a roundhouse to his side, a punch to his gut, and an upper cut to his face. I finish this beauty of a move by front kicking the shit out of his sternum. Gnars quickly recovers, much to my chagrin, and lands a solid blow to my face and another to my gut.
I stumble backward, knowing the last time I got myself into a situation where it looked like I was nearing the end of the line, my magic took control and released a torrent of destruction, vaporizing my foe into nothing but ash.
But I would rather do that than lose.
I would rather lose control and expose everything than go back to the trolls.
My hands start to glow as I regain my balance and form fists. I keep an eye on Deacon, who has a nice collection of trolls scattered around him, all of the trolls either unconscious or dead. I can’t be sure. My attention switches to Gnars as he is popping his knuckles.
“Time to learn your place once and for all. He cocks his arm to land a devastating blow.
I swallow hard and charge him, slamming into his torso, sending him backward. He lands hard on the ground as his head cracks against the earth in a sickening thud that will likely haunt my dreams for many years to come. His arms go limp and I stand. As I stare at him, I think of all the times he had cheated his way to the horn during the hunts, the many days of endless torment, and the hurtful words and horrifying promises of torture he would always give.
No more.
The chief climbs to his feet and shouts, “Enough!”
The fighting stops as all eyes look toward him, even mine and Deacon’s.
“Enough loss has been had tonight. We will let you leave. But on one condition,” the chief says.
Deacon looks to me before turning his attention back to the chief. “What is the condition?”
The chief lifts his head. “You are hereby banished. Should you or any of your people ever return, you will incite a war.”
“I can’t imagine she’ll want to come back,” Deacon says. “It’s a deal.”
“Good.” The chief turns and gestures to his people who gather their dead and wounded and carry them back to the village.
And I’m staring, holding my breath, unable to fully process that I had just been given my freedom. It’s too much. I suck in a breath and watch as the trolls leave me behind. My gaze shifts to Deacon and I’m caught off guard. He seems irritated.
“What?” I ask.
�
�Why didn’t you use magic?” he asks.
“No conduit. They shattered mine earlier,” I say. It’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. To prove it, I reach into my pocket and pull out the remains of the conduit to show him and prove myself to him.
He nods. “We’ll have to get you another one then.”
At first, I don’t know what to say. I just stand there.
“Why live with the trolls?” he asked and makes a disgusted expression.
Trust me buddy, it wasn’t a choice. “I was kidnapped from my bed when I was fourteen. That was shortly after I went to live with my Aunt Patricia.”
“Where are your parents?” he asked as he starts dusting himself off and readjusting his clothes.
I shrug and wrap my arms around myself. “My parents were…” A knot forms in my throat, and I look quickly away to hide the flicker of pain I’m sure is crossing my face. I clear my throat, eager to get this over with. “My parents were killed, okay? My aunt took me in.”
“Your Aunt is Patricia Blackwood?”
I hesitate, but eventually nod.
“I know of her.” A quick smile breaks his stoic mask as he looks me over. “Wren, she has been looking for you. She’ll be thrilled to know you’re okay. I’ll send word once we arrive.” He turns to walk into the woods.
“Not so fast, Mr. Lawrence,” I say, still standing in my spot, not moving an inch.
He stops and twists to face me. “It’s Professor Lawrence, if you don’t mind.”
“I never said I would go with you. First I want some questions answered.” I stand straighter to drive my point home.
He laughs under his breath and gestures for me to continue. “Ask away.”
“Tell me more about Blackbriar.” I start with the most basic information first. “Everything. The truth.”
“Blackbriar is a school for mages,” he says, crossing his arms. “Only the best of the best go there, and admission is by invitation only. Students who receive an invitation are expected to go through trials, or tests, to determine if they are a good fit for the school. We train students in magic, to be powerful, influential, and renowned. It’s the Ivy League for mages who go on to live full, enriched lives and are often the wealthiest most powerful of all mages.
“The school is exquisite, tropical, and magical. Full of wonderous, fantastic opportunities that only our students have a chance to participate in. You’ll be in the top class of mages, a vied-for position, I assure you. You will never want for anything while there. Maybe even make lifelong friends and live a fulfilling life that you may not get if you don’t choose to accept the invitation.”
He snaps his fingers. “That reminds me.” He pulls the invitation out of his coat again and holds it out to me.
I walk up to him and take it. The paper shimmers with a purplish-blue aura. I slide my finger under the seal and pull out the thick cardstock that reads:
Wren Blackwood,
You are hereby cordially invited to participate in the initiate trials at Blackbriar Academy.
As I stare at the paper. “What’s the catch?”
“There is a catch to everything, Wren, but you’re not obliged to stay. Come to the Academy, see for yourself, and then make a decision. What say you?”
I think about it for a moment, but I don’t want to take too long. I’m sure there was more he wasn’t saying, but honestly, what did I have going for me that was a better option? The academy sounds beautiful and could be worth going to. It could be life changing for me, and more importantly than that, I could learn more about my magic.
“I’ll do it.” My words echo around me slightly.
He smiles. “Excellent. Let’s get going. We’re running late as it is.”
“Late?” I ask, confused. “For what?”
Professor Lawrence doesn’t answer. Instead, he leads me through the woods to a small shimmering tube of light glowing from the ground into the air about six feet or so. He pauses outside of it and faces me again. “This is your last chance to refuse the invitation. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?”
“I’m sure.”
“Very well,” he says and nods. “That there is my only invitation. Don’t let me down.”
Great. No pressure.
He holds his hand out toward what I assume is some magical portal, ushering me ahead of him. I take a deep breath and then step into it.
Into my new life.
Into my second chance.
And I absolutely will not fail.
Chapter Five
The feeling within the portal is one that reminds me of being inside an elevator as it slows from its ascent and descends quickly to catch the destination floor. That sensation that makes me feel like my stomach is in my chest. The one that fades just as quickly as it starts, and I find myself surrounded by chilling, salt-filled air, near the ocean, at some port harbor.
A few street lights line the wooden walkway with sheds spaced out every ten feet or so. Only one boat is sitting in the dock, and it looks like we’re the only ones here. Well, me, Deacon Lawrence, and this old man who is carrying on a rather heated sounding debate with himself. His long grey hair has seen better days as it sticks up in every direction.
Deacon’s hand rests on the small of my back, and I look to him as he nods in the direction of the man.
Oh. Oh, no.
We’re not seriously walking toward the crazy guy, are we?
As we move, the answer becomes blatantly clear. We are definitely heading toward the crazy old man, and he doesn’t seem to stop arguing with himself as we arrive.
“Your invitation, Wren?” Deacon says.
I look at the piece of paper and then to the professor as he nods toward the old man. Assuming I understand what all these gestures mean, I hold out the invite to him.
At last, the old man stops his ramblings and grabs the invitation. He takes a moment to read it through his spectacle dangling over his rather tattered, old-fashioned, tunic style shirt and vest, hums to himself, and then looks between me and Deacon. “Well, what are you waiting for? All aboard.”
The old man steps onto the boat, and it’s the first time I had a good look at the vessel. I had been so pre-occupied with the old man’s appearance and show, I never thought to pay attention to the thing he stood in front of. I question the sea worthiness, but I also don’t know enough about sailing to know for sure. But I have to trust that Deacon wouldn’t go through the effort of seeking me out and fighting off a village of trolls just to have me get on a rickety boat that will sink five minutes after departure.
Carefully, I test the surface before putting my full weight on the boat as I step a foot over the edge and climb aboard. I stop once I’m fully on and look back, noticing that he didn’t get on.
“You’re not coming?”
He grins slightly. “I’ll meet you at the academy.”
“Whoa, I’m going on this boat with him,” I point to the crazy old man, “by myself?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
“Why?” I cross my arms in front of me.
“This initial trip is required to get to the island for the first time, because of the wards placed around the castle. No other way will let you through. I’ll meet you there.” He waves his hands over the ground in front of him and a portal appears.
“See you soon.” He nods curtly before stepping through and disappearing through the portal.
I sigh and take my seat on one of the built-in benches that line the back and sides of the boat. The old man mutters something about death and the boat’s engine roars to life. The vessel propels forward, and I’m forced to catch myself to keep from falling out of my seat.
In mere moments, I settle in for the ride and get caught off guard by how clear and unobstructed the sky above me is. I thought the image in the lake was beautiful, but this… this is even better than I could ever imagine.
Ribbons of purple that fade into pink weave through the sky and wave up an
d down in the sky. I know this is the aurora borealis, but I have never seen it in such beauty and vivid color like this. The stars fill nearly every inch of sky above me, and the Milky Way glows against the backdrop of the midnight blue sky. I suck in a breath and the awe that enters my voice as I whisper, “Wow,” lets me know that I had made a good decision.
I shift and something jumps out of water, diving back in before I can catch it. My attention is now claimed by the shadows in the water. I marvel at the strange creatures, unsure of what they are. But my moment of awe is cut short by the boat’s sudden jump in speed. I’m forced to clutch the railing on the boat for fear of being tossed off.
The crazy old man laughs as he keeps looking over his shoulder at me. I question his ability to drive and keep his eyes on what is going on in front of him. Hell, I worry I may just wash ashore some remote island worse for the wear.
Ahead of us, a swirling cloud rises over the water and grows. It barrels toward us and surrounds us in mist. My skin feels like the water collecting on my cheeks will freeze as sharp prickling sensations fill them. Just as I think nothing else could possibly happen, sharp rocks jutting out of the water come awfully close to the boat. I suck in my breath, hoping and praying that this boat isn’t a fraction of an inch off course for fear of crashing into one of those rocks and being chewed up into humanburger.
There’s a sharp turn to the left only to quickly veer to the right and I’m starting to believe this is all some kind of cosmic joke. Come to this academy and die on the way there.
Physical forms aren’t allowed. Sorry. Fine print is a bitch.
The boat straightens and slows, and I watch the dense fog surrounding us dissipate like it was never there in the first place. As though it was a fragment of my imagination. Once the boat docks, I jump off and nearly fall to my knees to kiss the ground for being back under my feet, right where it belongs.
I take in a deep breath and inhale the air, and it smells… different, sweeter, fuller. Like it has a life of its own, and it surrounds me in welcome.
“Wait until you see the mermaids!” the crazy old man says and rattles off riddles that don’t make any sense. I pay little attention to the words and more to the way he laughs at me when I look at him like he’s lost his mind completely. He leads me to a set of wooden stairs that climb the side of the mountainous island. As I take the steps, I can’t help but let my eyes wander over the woods and the twinkling lights in colors of green, blue, purple, pink, and yellow. I wonder if they are sprites, but I can’t be sure unless I get closer. I have never seen sprites with so many colors.
