by Alex Linwood
Portia and the other finalists eyed each other, checking out their competition while they waited for further instructions. After several tense minutes, a man wearing long dark blue robes strode out of the main building towards the group. His wide grin and funny spiky hair were a sharp contrast to the serious faces of the applicants. The man held his hands together, waiting for them to be quiet and pay attention. Finally, all the applicants noticed that he was there, and the conversations died off.
“Welcome. You have all passed the initial hurdles. Congratulations. Now the real testing begins. Just getting here, to this point, is a privilege most in the kingdom will never know. So, for that, you should feel proud of yourselves. But even more so, I do understand that it would be heartbreaking to not get to the next level. So, pay attention closely. These instructions will not be repeated.” He stopped talking for a moment and made eye contact with the applicants. Portia felt that he had somehow looked at each person individually, checking for something, then moving on. It was unnerving. She wondered if it was some sort of magic.
“Each one of you,” he continued, “will draw a lot. A small stick with a colored end.” He held up a stick with a red dot on the end to demonstrate. “Once you draw your lot, you will be directed to join others of the same color for your trial for acceptance into the Magic Academy.” The would-be students started to mutter. He motioned for quiet. “Don’t worry. All the tests are similar. No one color will have an advantage over another color. We just need a way to split you up into manageable groups.”
Portia could tell that not everyone believed him. But there was nothing anyone could do but go along with it. She could tell by the sour faces around her that others had reached the same conclusion.
When it was Portia’s turn, she drew a stick with a blue dot on the end. The Academy staff member who had held the sticks motioned for her to go join the other blue dot applicants. This group was congenial, smiling at her when she joined them. At least they would all have the same chance of getting in .
After all the lots were drawn, the groups walked to the main building. Each group entered a separate classroom, the doors marked with the color of the group for that room.
Portia gazed around the classroom in awe. She had never been inside one before. There were rows of desks and chairs—at least thirty—lined up facing the front where a much larger desk sat facing the class. Behind that large desk, the entire wall was a chalkboard. She saw traces of writing on the board that had been erased before they got there and longed to know what it had said. She hoped this was not the only time in her life that she would be in a classroom. Schooling was a luxury orphans did not normally get.
She wiggled in her chair and checked out the desk. She spread her hands along the top of the smooth wood surface, imagining it was her desk, that she was a regular student here.
Looking around at the other applicants, she noticed they were not as impressed as she was. They sat at their desk stoically, ignoring the surroundings. Nothing seemed new to any of them. Her stomach tightened at how much more experienced than her they must be. What other experiences had they had, and she had not, that would help them pass the trials?
The door to the room opened in a whoosh of air. Portia had not seen anyone touch it. A man walked in wearing the same full robes as the one outside had been wearing, the one who had explained the lots. This man had long dark hair and a long face. He was the opposite of the man outside, whose bright smile had welcomed them to the trials.
“Hello, all. I am Professor Aelric Terfel,” he said as he walked to the main desk and dropped his keys there, then turned to stare at the class. “Professor Terfel is my formal address, but if you pass the tests presented today, you may address me as Professor Aelric or simply Professor. How you get that privilege is as follows: In a few moments, we will all go outside, and there you will do your best to defeat me.” The class muttered in response. This was not what they had expected. “You need to battle a professor into submission, and for a few lucky ones, the professor you will be battling is me. I will tell you right now I do not let subpar applicants into the Magic Academy.” He stared intently at a boy in the front row who slid down in his seat, his face scrunching up. Portia willed the boy to not cry. She did not like this man. She did not like bullies.
Professor Aelric looked around, examining each face. “Are there any questions?” He gave a few seconds for anyone to answer, and when they didn’t, he waved his hand in dismissal, “Good. It’s better to not waste time now. I will answer the questions of those who are left after the trials. I don’t expect it will be many. Follow me out,” he said, picking up his keys once again and exiting the door.
Portia stood, waiting to join the crush of students leaving the room. She vowed to be one of the students remaining, just to prove that unpleasant man wrong.
He led them out to a gigantic arena behind the main building. There were square outlines of color on the grass about ten feet wide per side. There didn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to the colors—shades of red, green, yellow, and blue. Some squares had a student in them from the other color groups. Professor Aelric motioned his group towards a block of empty squares. The students filed over to them, each student selecting an empty square and tentatively stepping inside. Portia peered at the grass to see what the color was from, but it flickered in and out of her vision when she tried to stare at it directly. She guessed it must be magic of some sort.
Professors, all dressed in the same long dark blue robes, walked amongst the colored squares, occasionally stopping to enter one and face the waiting student inside. Portia tried to watch one such encounter between a professor and a student when her vision was blocked by a blue robe. She looked up to see Professor Aelric standing in front of her. He was so tall that he stared down at her.
“Hello, lucky one,” he said, giving her a smile. Portia couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. “I am a difficult professor, but fair. If you can disorient me enough in this challenge to touch me, I consider it a win on your part. Do you understand? You can use magic anyway you see fit.”
Portia swallowed nervously. She didn’t know what to say, so she only nodded.
“Begin,” Professor Aelric said. He immediately raised his right arm, drawing up a wall of ice between Portia and himself.
Portia breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had not started out with an attack. She knew she could melt the wall of ice with her light. She concentrated on the spot between the two of them and saw him immediately stare at it. To distract him, she set off light motes blinking all over the wall, regretting she hadn’t started that way.
But Professor Aelric was not content to let her work her magic unchallenged. Tendrils of ice grew from the wall towards her, running along the ground quickly to her feet. Portia danced to the side, dodging the first tendril that raced towards her. She upped her power output to light, trying to make them brighter, so he couldn’t see her and aim so accurately at her with his ice tendrils.
It worked—somewhat. The ice still raced towards her, but it was not as well aimed. She increased her concentration and output for both the melting ice and the light motes. She could feel her energy draining from her. Her magic pool was not that strong, but she had already accomplished more than she would have been able to without her endurance training with Elyas.
Portia ran to the ice wall to see if there was a hole melted yet or if she could push through with her hands. It was still solid even though water was pouring down the ice wall. She despaired that she was going to fail this test. She thought of Elyas and gave her magic all the energy she could muster, falling to her knees.
Suddenly, the light from Portia and Professor Aelric’s square increased dramatically, blasting out wide across the arena. Students and professors alike turned to see what was causing it. Other battles halted. A few professors came running.
Portia didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed in concentration as she pushed harder than she thought possible. She had a har
d time breathing—her lungs did not want to work. The water from the wall pooled at her feet. She pushed at the wall with both hands. Ice tendrils grasped her feet. She ignored the stinging pain, pushing harder with her magic until her heart pounded in her ears. She shut her eyes tight against the light that was leaking out towards her from the other side of the wall.
“Halt!” Professor Aelric called over the wall. “Cease what you are doing!” Portia stopped her magic, her heart full of dread and disappointment. No. She had not broken through the wall.
The wall itself suddenly disappeared from beneath Portia’s hands. She fell forward, no longer supported.
She looked up. Professor Aelric was no longer standing on the other side but instead was on his knees, shielding his eyes with his hands and weaving unsteadily. He sat back and slowly uncovered his eyes. He stared at her. She realized his face was pink with sunburn where his hands had not covered it. The look he gave her was dark. She did not know what it meant.
“Please give me another chance,” she said. “I know I can pass.” Her ears burned, feeling embarrassment as other students and professors heard her begging. She heard a student titter behind her.
Professor Aelric held up one hand, stopping her from saying another word. “You think you failed?”
“I… I didn’t touch you,” she said quietly.
Professor Aelric ignored that comment, instead staggering to his feet. Portia rushed over to lend a hand. He yelped when she touched his arm to steady him—his arm was sunburned from her magic.
“I’m sorry…” she said.
He waved away her apology. “What is everyone staring at?” he said, looking at all the gawkers that had come to see what had happened. “Go do your tests.” The crowd stared. “Go!” he said again, his voice rising in volume. The crowd broke up reluctantly, going back to their own squares, leaving Portia and Professor Aelric alone.
“You didn’t fail,” he said as he examined his beet red arms.
“I didn’t?” Portia asked, confused. “But I didn’t touch you…”
“No, no,” he said with a growl, “you passed. I had to stop you before real damage was done. Your magic touched me quite enough, young lady.”
She passed! Portia could not believe it was really happening. She had passed her first magic test! Now she could be a student here and belong—so different from living on the streets and stealing to survive from day to day. For a split second, she wondered if it was a trick and she was being played with, but she pushed back that thought. They would not be so cruel.
Professor Aelric waved his hands, sending ice out in front of them. Portia watched a three-dimensional ice reconstruction of the school form on the grass. “We are here,” he said, pointing to the map representation of the arena behind the school. “Go to this classroom in the main building. That is the next test in the process.”
“Next test?” Portia asked, fear in her voice. Had she not secured admission after all?
Professor Aelric noticed her reaction, gave her an irritated look. “Don’t worry, you’ve passed the important test. We just need to know what sort of magic you have—and how much—so we can place you in the correct house.”
Portia breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to thank him again, but he had already walked off while gingerly touching his arms and face, sending thin bits of ice over them. She could hear sighs escape his lips as each cooling bit of ice touched fiery red skin. Portia felt remorse at causing him pain.
But she found she couldn’t linger on that thought; after all, it wasn’t intentional. Her mind could not be kept from the magical fact that she passed. She had passed!
Portia walked to the main building to find out her fate.
Chapter 11
Portia walked towards the main building and joined other students going in the same direction. She turned and looked to the arena. Most of the colored squares were now empty. Some applicants were walking out a side exit of the arena, one that led around the building, instead of heading towards its entrance. She felt bad for them. None of them looked happy—she guessed that they had failed the trials. She hoped they would have another chance in six months.
When they got to the entrance of the main building, they were greeted by an older student. His robes were also blue but not as full nor as long as the professors’ robes were. His robe also did not have the hood hanging off the back that the professors’ robes had. He smiled, waiting for the group to gather around him.
“The next test is to see if you have a single ability or skill for an entire tree of magic. You will all have the same core classes. But you will be individually assigned practicums based on the results of today’s tests. We want you to be as strong as possible in your specific magic, and that includes finding the breadth of its extent, as well as exercising it for a strong depth,” he said .
Portia wasn’t sure she understood everything he was saying. She looked around at the other students. No one seemed confused. She decided not to ask any questions. She didn’t want to stick out as ignorant.
“Please go into the building and follow the signs for the open classrooms. If the first room you encounter already has a student in it, just go to the next classroom. If all classrooms are full, wait in a line outside for your turn. We ask that there just be one student in a room at a time.” When no one moved, he continued, his voice a little gentler. “It doesn’t matter which room you’re in. Go on.” He waved towards the building.
Portia headed towards the building, one of the first to go. She found a seat in the second classroom near the front. She looked around nervously at the empty classroom. Perhaps she should have waited outside and let someone else go first.
Professor Hilda Griffiths entered the classroom. Her eyes widened when she saw Portia. Portia also startled, recognizing Professor Griffiths from the tavern in Holne. Portia wondered if Randall had gotten into the Academy six months ago.
“I recognize you,” Professor Griffiths said, “but I can’t quite place from where.” She examined Portia closely. Portia wiggled under the scrutiny. She knew she looked different from how she had six months ago—better in most ways—so it was surprising the professor recognized her.
“I think we met at a tavern,” Portia said, loathe to mention anything more specific. She wasn’t sure why she was so shy.
“Ah, yes. I remember now. You were the hungry one,” Professor Griffiths said with a smile. She pulled out two chairs facing each other and motioned for Portia to move to the one in front of her. She sat down, waiting for Portia. “Congratulations on passing the trial. Otherwise, you would not be here.”
Portia nodded thanks. She sat down across from the professor.
Professor Griffiths took a small crystal globe out of her pocket and dangled it by a thin thread. She moved the globe between Portia and herself. “Use your magic on this globe,” Professor Griffiths said, “and we shall see what you have.”
Portia sent motes of light flickering in and out of the globe. Light fragmented in the crystals, sending rainbow colors all over the walls and ceiling.
Professor Griffiths inhaled, admiring the lights shooting about the room. “Beautiful, just beautiful. What else can you do?”
Portia concentrated on the globe, this time filling it with the soft golden light. It illuminated the room but was not strong enough to hurt their eyes.
“Very nice. What else?” Griffiths asked.
Portia realized she would keep asking until Portia ran out of things she could do. She did not want to share all of her magic with the professor. She was still unsure what it meant that she could do so many different things. A lifetime of protecting herself told her to reveal as little as possible. She created a beam of light, just as she had learned to do recently by watching Mark. She swung it around the room.
Professor Griffiths watched it with interest. “Again, very nice.” She turned to Portia. “Anything else?”
Portia shook her head no. She didn’t feel comfortable looking Professo
r Griffiths in the eye and lying. Hopefully she would just look shy.
“Okay. I think you have a skill for the tree of magic known as pyromancy, although your skill seems to be weak,” the professor said, pulling out a piece paper from her robes and making a note on it.
Portia looked up in surprise. She didn’t understand how her magic could seem to be weak considering how many people she had battled with it. Perhaps she didn’t understand something about how magic worked. Maybe it had something to do with her ability to use different types of magic. That was not a question she wanted to ask Hilda Griffiths .
“Since you’re a pyromancer, that means you’ll be in my house,” Professor Griffiths said with a gentle smile to Portia. “We will get to know each other much better. I am interested to learn more of how you got here from Holne and what has happened in the last six months. We’ll have lots of time to talk about it.”
Portia swallowed at that. She did not want to be under such sharp scrutiny.
Professor Griffiths took Portia’s reaction as nervousness. She patted her on the knee reassuringly as she stood up. “I have other students to test. I’ll send you on your way so you can get comfortable. I’m guessing new students will be filtering in for the next few hours.”
Portia stood to leave, walked five steps to the door, then turned back to Professor Griffiths. “I don’t know where I’m going.” Her face turned red. Perhaps this was something she should have known.
“Not a problem. Here, let me show you,” Professor Griffiths said, waving her right hand, creating a complicated map of lines of burning fire in the air.
Portia stepped back, feeling the heat from the map. She was distracted by the beauty of it, wondering how each line held in the air and didn’t fall to the ground. Professor Griffiths’s voice filtered into her ears. She realized she had missed half the instructions. Portia had to ask her to repeat them and forced herself to concentrate on the words and not stare mindlessly at the map. Professor Griffiths patiently repeated herself and waited for Portia to nod acknowledgment that she was ready to go before waving the map away again.
