Trials of Magic

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  She couldn't lose Pi. Her sister was everything to her.

  As Violet and her gang fired their wands, Aurie tapped the deep reserve of faez that she knew was waiting beneath the surface. She'd always been afraid to access the power that she knew she had, for fear of losing control like she had when they were younger.

  But the fear of losing her sister overrode any other concerns. If she hit the monolith from the side before the other blasts, it would throw the block out of the way. She let the faez flow through her, and through the wand. A crackling ball of energy formed at the tip of her wand, like it'd gotten stuck.

  She gave it a second push, and the wand exploded. Aurie felt a cool cocoon slip around her body as her consciousness disappeared within the enchantment. Aurie was out of the game with nowhere near enough points to survive the final cut. She would never get into the Hundred Halls.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was Aurie's birthday, but she wasn't in her bed. Pi stood at the end with the present she wanted to give her. The bed hadn't even been made, which Pi couldn't remember ever happening. Ever.

  Since the accident at the trial, Aurie hadn't been the same. She barely stayed in the apartment. Pi had wanted to give her the present last night, since she knew she'd be up early to leave for Coterie, but Aurie hadn't come in until late after Pi had fallen asleep.

  More than anything, she wanted to take her older sister in her arms and give her the world's longest hug.

  It wasn't supposed to be like this. Aurie was supposed to be the one getting into the Halls. Pi was practically choking on guilt. If she hadn't gotten sick a few years ago, Aurie could have taken the test last year, or the year before.

  Pi wiped away a tear. "You tell me I never cry. See, I'm crying. But you're not here to see it."

  Before Pi left, she made both beds—another first—and set the newspaper-wrapped birthday present on the pillow.

  The lack of weight on her shoulders from her backpack was a mixture of relief and disappointment. The Coterie had given her a list of things to bring, and to not bring. The list to bring was rather mundane—like shampoo and toothpaste. It could have been a sheet right out of normal university. The don't bring list, however, was more of what Pi'd expected. The only thing that surprised her was how extravagant some of the items were: personal demons, extra-dimensional rooms, sentient firearms, etc. At the bottom of the list, in bold and underlined, it said, "NO DRUGS." Which Pi thought was pretty obvious. If you were going to be dabbling in the world's most powerful magics, you wanted to have your noodle clear.

  The Obelisk, the home of the Coterie of Mages, gave Pi chills when the obsidian structure came into view. The dark surface seemed to absorb light. It was grand, imposing, mysterious. It was a symbol of power. It was her new home for the next five years.

  A line of black limousines idled in front of the Obelisk. A handsome guy around her age in a tailored white suit climbed out of the vehicle in front. He had short dark hair and the air of privilege.

  She realized the others going in and out were dressed impeccably. She was reminded of her nameless sponsor. Her white cami top and pair of thrift store jeans suddenly felt out of place.

  As she neared the entrance, the guy in the white suit snapped his fingers at her.

  "Hey you, you're in the wrong place," he said.

  She turned and stood her ground. "I'm a new initiate."

  He let out a short condescending laugh.

  She ignored it and offered her hand. "Pythia Silverthorne. You can call me Pi. Like the number, not the food. I scored number three overall on my Merlins."

  He took her hand, looked her over as if he didn't know what to make of her, and said, "Alton Lockwood. Fourth year. Who's your sponsor?"

  The question caught her off guard.

  "I...don't know his name. We met through...an acquaintance," she said, trying to sound mysterious, but realizing it just sounded like she didn't know what she was talking about.

  "Well, Pi, the number not the food, if you're being truthful, then welcome and good luck, but if this is some sort of subterfuge, then be warned that the Hall wards will make quick work of unwanted intruders," said Alton, the smile on his lips not present in his green eyes.

  He released her hand and walked into the Obelisk without another word.

  As more limousines released their charges, Pi took a cleansing breath and marched inside. As she passed through the double doors, a tingling sensation formed on her skin. For a moment, she thought the whole acceptance into Coterie was a trick, but the wards let her through.

  The opulence of the entrance area took her breath away. Twin curved staircases climbed the outer wall. The mahogany and Persian rugs made Pi think she'd stepped into some kind of Venetian palace. It made her realize she was joining the Harvard or Yale of the magical world.

  She was so enamored by the display, Pi barely realized there was a table sitting right inside the doorway, with two students sitting behind it. She also realized that Alton Lockwood was nowhere in sight, even though he'd stepped through the doorway seconds before she had.

  A guy and girl sat behind a massive tome that took up half the table. It looked like they were brother and sister with their similar oval-shaped faces and ruddy hair. They wore private school uniforms, styled younger than Pi expected.

  The girl, wearing a name tag with Simone on it, waggled her fingers at Pi with a bored expression on her face. The pages on the massive tome flipped over.

  "Pythia Alexandria Silverthorne," Simone read from the tome. "Give us your scribbles here."

  "My what?" asked Pi.

  The guy, name tag reading Derek, leaned forward and poked his finger on a line in the book. "What my darling Simone is asking is for you to write your name right here."

  Pi grabbed the heavy pen and wrote her name. As she stood back up to ask where she needed to go, Derek leaned over and started making out with Simone.

  "Well, then," said Pi under her breath, hoping they weren't siblings as she originally thought. "Uhm...where do I go now?"

  Without breaking from her make out session, Simone made intricate finger gestures, summoning a ball of light. Pi was impressed she could manage the spell while locked in a heavy petting.

  Pi followed the ball of light up the left stairs. Ornate elephants carved into the walls trumpeted their march upward. After a series of exquisite hallways she ended up at a mahogany door. Her name was etched on a gold plate. Pi traced it with her fingertip. Was it real?

  She went inside to find a room bigger than her apartment, which elicited a tinge of guilt. The room looked straight out of a catalog of home furnishings: Ivy League edition. Pi dumped her belongings onto the king-sized featherbed. Her clothes didn't even fill one drawer. The few magical odds and ends she owned, including the rune from Radoslav, she placed in the rolltop desk. It looked lonely in a drawer by itself, so she threw a pair of socks in.

  A female voice came from the hall. "I swear we're practically living in squalor."

  The girl in the doorway looked like she should have been wearing a cheerleading outfit. The word perky could have been her first name.

  After a brief silence, the girl marched over with her hand held out, straight and businesslike, as if she'd practiced the gesture until it was perfectly precise.

  "Hi, Pythia. I'm Ashley Bellamy, but you can call me Ash. I'm sure we're going to be good friends," she said in a slight Southern accent, the kind used at cotillions.

  Pi was taken aback, mostly because the sentiment sounded earnest.

  "Hi, Ashley, I mean Ash. You can call me Pi," she said.

  Their handshake lasted for an awkwardly long time. Ashley stood and smiled like a pageant queen, while Pi tried to figure out how to break the handshake. Eventually, Ashley bounced her shoulders and gave Pi a brief, peculiar hug.

  "I'm so excited to be an initiate with you, Pi. Top three is really impressive," she said, then like a wave crumbling after its peak, her smile fell. "I'm real sorry about your sist
er. I heard there was some sort of malfunction with her wand. Is she okay?"

  The tenderness surprised Pi, especially because she'd expected more hardcore attitudes, like Alton Lockwood's. She choked back a wellspring of emotion to present a stoic face.

  "She's fine, physically anyway. The healers did a good job patching her up. She has a few faez burns on her arms," said Pi.

  "That was her last chance?" asked Ashley, her face pinched with concern. "That poor thing."

  Thankfully, the conversation turned to the exquisitely furnished rooms, which was mostly Ashley talking. Pi began to suspect that the earlier comment about squalor had been sarcastic, or at least she was hoping that's how it'd been said. The other alternative was that Ashley was befriending her only out of curiosity and would ignore her as soon as she figured out the proper social order, so Pi kept her guard up.

  A soft bell tone summoned them to a gathering. Ashley seemed to know where she was going, so Pi followed. The other initiates flooded out of their rooms. Pi was the only one wearing jeans.

  They returned to the entrance area. The forty initiates were placed in a semicircle facing the balcony. The stairs and balcony were filled with Coterie students and professors.

  The initiate on her left gave her a squint-eyed look and whispered, "Who's your sponsor?"

  Pi stammered for a moment, then caught movement from the balcony. The shifting shield, like a haze on a burning highway, moved through the crowd.

  She nodded upward. "Him."

  The initiate's gaze widened. His lips flattened to white.

  A younger man at the right of her sponsor in professor robes and thin-rimmed glasses stepped forward and held up his hand.

  After clearing his throat and glancing at the man inside the shifting shield for confirmation, he began, "Greetings, initiates of the Coterie of Mages. You have been honored to join the most prestigious Hall in Invictus as a result of your Merlins, but now that those trials are done, forget about them. They'll never mean another thing to you.

  "I am Augustus Trebleton. I will be the Master of Initiates for your first year. It is by my hand that you will pass or fail, so pay attention. And while there are forty of you at this moment, I do not expect to see all of you at the end. Frankly, I will not be doing my job if every one of you makes it. Be warned."

  Professor Augustus paused for effect, then motioned towards the bottom of the stairs. The two students who had signed Pi in were waiting with a fabric pillow covered in pins. They moved into position in front of the first student in the arc.

  "Now for the presentation of the hall pins. Afterwards, you will swear your allegiance to your patron," he said, then called out in a loud voice, "Brock DuPont, sponsored by Phillip DuPont the third."

  A pin was placed on his chest. No one applauded. Another name was read off: "Orson Rutherford, sponsored by Vincent Thermopile."

  The pins were presented with little fanfare, though sometimes the names of the sponsors were rewarded with a light amazement, as if the names meant something. Pi hadn't recognized any of them, though a few of the last names matched famous companies she'd heard of.

  Pi stood towards the end of the arc, so she had plenty of time to watch the other initiates. The first thing that stuck out was that there were only six girls amongst the forty initiates. A similar ratio existed amongst the other students and professors.

  She was contemplating the reason for the disparity when Simone and Derek, still dressed in their faux-private school uniforms, stepped in front of Pi.

  "Pythia Silverthorne, sponsored by Eugene Hickford."

  A trickle of laughter formed that quickly turned to a flood. Before long, the whole place was overtaken. The initiate next to her whispered, "Nice try. Eugene Hickford. Wow."

  Pi glanced around. Some of the other initiates had tears in their eyes. The only one not laughing was Ashley. She kept her face as unreadable as possible. He'd said he'd find her a sponsor. She realized in that moment that he'd never said it would be him.

  Professor Augustus cleared his throat loudly, and the laughter died down. Simone leaned forward and placed a pin in the shape of an eagle gripping a staff on Pi's white cami.

  "Bentley Bishop, sponsored by Donovan Bishop."

  The rest of the names were read without incident.

  "Now you must swear your allegiance to your patron. Just as you did during the trials, raise your right hand and let the faez flow," said Professor Augustus.

  Forty hands rose, and the man in the shifting shield stepped forward. When he spoke, she knew it was the man she'd summoned the demon for, but this time, his voice thrummed with power.

  "Today you promise yourself to me, your patron." He paused. "A promise is a pact, a binding between two parties. A contract. I promise that you will learn to wield magics that can, and will, make the world tremble. You will learn things within these walls that others fear to even consider. Magic is a tool, a weapon to be wielded. But if you cannot master yourself, the magic will master you.

  "For your part of the bargain, you promise yourself to me, and this hall, the Coterie of Mages. You promise to protect its secrets, your fellow students, and the Hall itself. But most importantly, you promise yourself to me. Your patron. Who gives you the strength to wield your magics without fear of madness. I am your shield, your protector. And you must do as I say, now and forever."

  His voice rose to a crescendo, and he shouted, "I bind you to me!"

  The sensation was not like the temporary binding during the trials. That one had been on the surface, and pleasant. It'd been like taking hold of a rope and letting oneself be led through a sunlit hedge maze.

  As her every muscle seized up, Pi likened it to having low voltage current running through her body. It had echoes of the demon summoning as well, which worried her about the implications of the pledging. The binding went deep into her chest and wrapped itself around her heart.

  A voice spoke in her mind: stop fighting me.

  She opened her eyes a little to realize that most of the others had their arms down.

  She knew she was fighting it because she wasn't completely sure about being a part of the Coterie. The phrasing of the pledge worried Pi that she was joining something she wasn't ready for.

  Stop fighting me!

  But this was what she'd been working towards. Power meant safety from those that would hurt her, or her sister. If she'd had power when she was ten years old, she could have stopped the strange man from killing her parents. Power meant that she'd never have to worry again.

  Pi let go of her fears and completed the binding. For a few seconds, it felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. Then, she could breathe.

  Her arm fell to her side as the man in the shifting shield left the balcony. A part of her felt like it had gone with him.

  Professor Augustus was speaking again, but Pi could barely pay attention. Through the link, she heard a name whispered in her head. She didn't think she was meant to hear it, which meant only one thing, it was the name of her patron.

  Malden Anterist.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Obelisk would be her home for the next five years. First-year initiates were allowed on the first five floors. No one told her how high the floors went, nor had she seen any stairwells or elevators to get there.

  Classes didn't start for a few days, which gave the initiates time to read up on the hall rules and to get to know each other. This ritual was familiar to Pi after countless high schools in different towns with different families.

  The only problem was that she'd never hung around the rich kids, mostly because her schools never had them, so she couldn't tell the difference between the layers of social hierarchy, except that she was at the bottom. Between her lack of wardrobe and the laughter-inducing sponsor, Pi hadn't expected anything else. The only surprise was that Ashley Bellamy hadn't abandoned her like she thought she would.

  On the morning of their first class, the initiates gathered on the fourth floor in a roun
d room called Telchine's Circle. This was, in the parlance of the hall, a safe room—meaning the magics practiced had to be of the lesser variety. Demon summonings, thaumaturgy, pyrokenetics, or other violent magics had to be performed on their respective floors. Danger, in this case, meant to the other students. Any magic—even the simplest cantrip—performed incorrectly could be dangerous, a known fact to even children.

  Initiates were two to a table. They went around the room. A dais formed the center.

  Pi and Ashley had taken one near the front, but not all the way. She wore her "Mages Do It with their Fingers" shirt because it was ironic, and hilarious, and if she wasn't going to fit in, she might as well enjoy herself.

  Ashley chatted with the other initiates in a friendly manner. They greeted Ashley as an equal, but gave Pi sideways glances that made her feel more like a pet than a person.

  While they were settling in, Ashley asked, "Do you have any trinkets?"

  "Earrings? No," said Pi.

  "No, trinkets. Magical ones." Ashley shook the bracelet on her wrist. It had interlocking ebony and jade stones. "This was my mother's. It gives me a small amount of protection against infections, or chemicals. Things like that."

  "I thought that stuff was forbidden?" asked Pi, remembering the list of stuff not to bring.

  "These items help to be a better mage. Brock over there has a power stone. It's a family heirloom. Probably three hundred years old. It gives him more access to his faez. Or Bentley, his necklace will shield him from any accidental blazes," said Ashley.

  Pi opened her mouth to say it was cheating, that it gave some students an advantage over others. And considering that not all would make it through the first year, it seemed unfair. But she decided not to say it. Mostly because she liked Ashley and didn't want to insult her.

  The conversations trickled to silence when Professor Augustus walked in, trailed by the fourth-year student Alton Lockwood.