Red Madrassa: Algardis #1

by Edun, Terah

  “Vedaris,” he corrected. He looked at them for a long moment, then admitted, “I was reading a book. I was looking for a primer on basic magic. When I sat down, I saw that some snot had left another book open on the table. It was on something called Innate magic. The book said that if I want to use magic, I had to use my feelings as fuel, trusting my instincts.” He sighed deeply. “The next thing I knew, the table blew up in my face and I was under a pile of books.”

  Maride whistled. “Wow, that’s tough. Innate magic isn’t something to play around with. It’s not necessarily what you think it’s going to be.”

  Vedaris turned to him with a frown. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just something my uncle mentioned when I was a kid. He once met a waterwalker with Innate magic. You know what his power was? Calling lightning. Try handling that when you live in water. He accidentally killed his entire family one night during a big storm.”

  Vedaris shuddered involuntarily, and hoped the others didn’t notice.

  When Sitara returned to the Gatehouse that evening, no one else was around. She decided to curl up in the study with a book. Maybe picking her classes wouldn’t be so bad after all. She took a look at what the School of Air had to offer her: Meteorology, Tradewinds and the Economy, Nature’s Skies, From Calm to Fury: Famous Air Initiates, Thin Air: Practical Uses, and Pegasi and Windriders. Her eyes widened in excitement. What were “Pegasi”? She scanned the page for further details‌—‌ah. The Pegasi were a form of kith, nonHumans with Human intelligence. I could learn about others in the craft through Famous Air Initiates, she mused, or perhaps the merchants’ use of tradewinds.

  At that point, Sidimo walked in. She looked up briefly, and then back down at her School page when he didn’t interrupt.

  For his part, Sidimo had grown bored staring at the four walls of his room. In fact, it was a little drafty in there. After the orientation, he had balled up the little piece of paper with his potential classes on it, determined to pay it no heed. But well, why not? Paying no mind to Sitara sitting quietly by the fire, he spread out the crumpled paper, smoothed it flat, and peered at the offerings. Plants and their Healing Uses. Upon reading that entry, he snorted. He’d spent last year as an apprentice to an herbalist; he had no need for another class. Then there were classes on Empathic Healing, Healing Techniques of the Sarassi, Mind Over Magic: Observation, Emergency Aid (Required), The Codex of Healing, and Veterinary Techniques. He decided right then that he would not be spending his time healing animals…‌but Empathic Healing did sound interesting.

  By then the evening had grown late. Vedaris, Allorna, and Maride, seeing the light of the fire dancing in the windows, elected to join Sidimo and Sitara in the study. They walked in and arranged themselves at their desks, books and papers in hand.

  As soon as she sat down, Allorna began to feel hot and confined. Frowning, she looked up and around. It was that same feeling she’d experienced during the test yesterday. She concentrated, and felt that the flame in the fireplace was calling to her. Once she realized that, she sat back and tried to listen. As soon as she opened her mind to it, the flame began to dance, roaring like an out-of-control wildfire. She tried to calm it, but it was excited to find her‌—‌and it was itching to get out of the hearth containing it.

  By this time, she had paled visibly. When Maride saw her ashen skin, he reached over to touch her hand. “Are you all right?” Sidimo had gotten up, and was now standing beside her. Apparently, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of her. He murmured, “Deep, calming breaths. Remember your training.”

  “Right, right. Sorry,” she said, exhaling slowly. She timed her breaths, and the flames calmed down.

  Maride stared at her for a long moment and then asked the room at large, “Has this happened with anyone else?”

  “What?” That was Sitara. “The…‌I don’t know…”

  Maride said slowly, “Anything like an element responding to you without your request. They shouldn’t do that.”

  “In my test the Air did,” said Sitara, “and the Water…‌I swear it tried to kill me.”

  “Ah. The Water tried to kill you,” Vedaris said. “Well, that’s different. My instructor tried that with me. Didn’t succeed, though.”

  They all sat quietly contemplating these facts until Sidimo said, “I think we all had very different tests, but it’s well-known that it isn’t exactly easy for new recruits to get into the Madrassa.”

  Maride turned to Vedaris. “It just occurred to me. You don’t know what talent you’re dealing with, right? Check your classes! Surely they point to some kind of specialty.”

  Vedaris gave him a surprised look and muttered, “Not a bad idea.” He took the list from his backpack and read aloud: “The Dark Arts, The Light Arts, Uses of A Mage, Power and Premise, The Wayfarer’s Journey, and Vagabonds and Bartering. The list ends with a small note: ‘Participation in the School of the Unknown is an unsettling journey with many ups and downs. Best be prepared for it all.’ Huh.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s one useless load of dreck. What the hell are the light and dark arts? Why do we need to know about vagabonds‌—‌aren’t they just countryside beggars? And who’s the Wayfarer?”

  Maride, now interested in what he could learn from his schedule, read off his own options: “Let’s see: The Art of the Librarian, Preserving Knowledge for the Ages, A Personal Background: Intro to Research, Penmanship (Required), The Great Scholars, and Memoirs and Tales: What Is Fact and What Is Fiction? Interesting. I’ve got some definite favorites here.” He winked at Allorna.

  Allorna had yet to consider her own list that deeply, so she sat down, moistened her quill in the inkwell, and began jotting down a list of pros and cons for her courses: Firecraft, Taming Fire, Nature Aflame: Benefits for the Environment, Techniques and the Flame, Natural Flame: A Study of Dragon Fire, and BattleFire. Without a doubt, BattleFire would be useful for her career as a guardian, and Techniques and the Flame, after today, would be a necessity. At that moment, her stomach rumbled embarrassingly. Sitara announced, “We’d better go get dinner before the halls close.”

  The next morning they all woke to a ringing call in their heads. Sitara felt the magic before anyone else: It echoed like waves and crept up the stairs, fanning outwards from a central source‌—‌an outlined form that stood in the kitchen. She recognized the echoes; their shape and color indicated Wilhemina’s magic signature.

  The Head of Dormitories stood with a scribe’s board in her hand. As they sleepily gathered around her, Wilhemina said, while waving the board, “This is a Tobama.” Allorna had seen them before; in gardis headquarters they were used in each room, because the daily roster was forever changing.

  “It’ll update you on Citadel breaks, important news from the Chancellor, and your chores.” That last she said with a bit of glee. “In addition to your student worker schedule, you’ll be responsible for the upkeep of this gatehouse. Each of you will be required to tidy the common areas once a week, and will receive the day off from your student worker duties to complete the task. I will be by to ensure that the work is completed. If it is not done to my satisfaction, you’ll rue that day,” she concluded, with an evil glint in her eye.

  After looking at all of them in turn, she bowed briefly, then sealed the board to the wall and left through the kitchen door, a cheery “Good day to you!” wafting after her.

  And then the bell rang in their heads: the bell that announced that they had five minutes until class.

  Chapter 10

  There was a mad scramble back up the stairs to gather supplies and change into their school clothes. The light defense class was the first of the morning. By the time they reached the gymnasium‌—‌a huge round egg of a building on the west side of campus‌—‌they were already out of breath.

  A young man with a hard look to him stood in the center of the gym, wearing the loose gi of the standard fighting styles. He bore three stars on the right sh
oulder of his uniform, indicating that he was a Master of three fighting forms.

  “Today,” he said after they’d all settled down, “We will begin with laps. I want three from all of you around this ring. What are you waiting for? Start. Now!”

  There were twelve other recruits running with them. Vedaris fell into pace beside a young man with blue hair. “Is it always like this?” he gasped.

  “Yeah,” Blue muttered. “Early morning laps to strengthen endurance.”

  “No talking!” came the military-like shout from the center of the ring.

  They all finished at different times‌—‌Sitara last, of course‌—‌slumping on the thick floor mats while they waited for the next orders. “Line up,” said the Instructor. “Two rows facing front!” As they rushed to obey, he snapped, “For you newbies”‌—‌he made the word a curse‌—‌”my name is Master Ridas. By the time you conclude this class, you’ll be able to recognize and use basic weapons, while warding off simple attacks.

  “Now,” Ridas continued, “Front row, turn around and face the person behind you. Today and for every day afterward, you will be practicing your forms and katas with this person. So get used to each other.”

  They all took a look at their new partners. Vedaris wasn’t surprised that he was paired with the blue-haired boy from earlier; they had finished first, after all. Now to see what he was made of.

  “About face!” Ridas said. “This is the first kata you will learn: a series of movements that will allow you to block a blow.” He demonstrated, drawing back his left foot in the classic stance and mimicking a block by holding his forearm above his face to ward off the blow. He motioned for the students to practice the kata. “Act as if your attacker is coming forward with staff raised. Step back, and hold your forearm horizontally in front of your face to shield it. The bone is strong, and will allow you to return an attack with your other arm.”

  As they practiced stepping back with one foot and holding up their arm in the same move, Ridas went from person to person correcting their form.

  Towards the end of the first lesson, he motioned to two Probates standing next to wooden barrels filled with dark wooden staffs. He took one and instructed his assistants to divide the rest among each of the students. Then he said, “First: keep this staff with you at all times. No one else is to use it! It will absorb your magic signature over time. Eventually, you will be able to call it to your side as you would a kith. Or if you so choose, you can have the staff broken and the pieces used to create a formal weapon.”

  As Sitara took hers, she felt the vibrations of power buzzing along the staff; her magic began to seep off her slowly, in purple waves. She could see the sluggish currents given off by her body slowly circulating into the staff.

  Ridas said, “Eyes up! This is the second kata: how to land a blow with a staff. Hold the staff with both hands. Put the strength of your upper body into the blow.” Again he demonstrated, making the swift blow look easy. “First row: about face and practice with your companion!”

  Allorna thought she heard an audible gulp from Maride, who stood in front of her, holding his staff in an unwieldy grip. Then the call came, “First row, step forward and attack. Second row, step back and block the blow.” Maride, nervous, did as he was told. Allorna blocked him easily, and sub-consciously moved into an attack position. This forced Maride to stumble past Allorna. Noting his comical form‌—‌his arms were splayed wide with the staff off to the side, as he struggled to maintain his balance, not yet having even turned back to face his opponent‌—‌she stopped and shook her head.

  With a wince he stepped back to Allorna’s side, almost tripping over his own feet. “Well, I guess I need to practice…a lot.” For the fourth time, Allorna wondered how he could ever have the skill to kill anyone, particularly anyone as powerful as his fiancé Damian had been.

  “A lot would be an understatement,” she replied tartly. “I shouldn’t have initiated that second form. But maybe I can help you with your second kata.” Sighing, she wrapped her brown hands around his dusky tan ones. Carefully positioning his grip, she showed him how to move his body with the force of the stick, not against it.

  By the time their two hours of training were over, he was a little less wobbly and they were all ready for breakfast. Half an hour later, slightly sore but running on energy from full bellies, they went on to their practicum classes.

  As they topped the hill from the dining hall to the courtyard of the nine towers, they looked up at the true form of the Citadel. The towers lay at the heart of the academy, not to mention the heart of the reason why so many students journeyed from far and wide to attend classes in its fabled halls. “Did you know that when we finish our final classes and graduate as Probates we pull that rope?” Maride said, pointing to their right. In a small clearing was a stone water well with a tall, bright brass bell and rope attached. “It’s tradition. You ring the bell at the end of your fifth and final year of studies!”

  “Hooray,” said Sidimo drily. “Five long years from now, we’ll be through.”

  Vedaris interjected, “A nickel? They expect me to spend a nickel here?!”

  Allorna snapped, “Why does it matter? You’re immortal‌—‌or practically, anyway.”

  Sitara had been ignoring them. She was focused on the School of Air, where she could see with her own eyes the students‌—‌normal, un-winged students‌—‌actually flying. Not very far, but honest-to-gods flying. There was an open round balcony on the second flower of the Air Tower. From there, students were launching themselves from the balcony with what looked like microbursts of air. There were robed Initiates stationed on the ground and in the Air to make sure their launches where successful. Will I be able to do that? she wondered.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” came a voice from her left. Startled, she looked around and saw a man with silver hair and brown eyes standing there. He gestured with white hands towards the flyers. “I think flying unassisted is one of the most fascinating things about being a student of Air.”

  That was when Sitara blinked and nearly fainted. The air was shimmering around the man, as if conspiring to block her vision. Vedaris stepped forward to her side, away from the other youths’ conversation about graduation and senior traditions. With a careful hand on her shoulder, he aimed a glare at the white-haired man who was unsettling her. He opted to go with a street cant when saying, “Wha’s yer problem, bloke?”

  And at that very moment, Vedaris’ Innate magic decided to act‌—‌or rather, react to Sitara’s. His eyes widened in disbelief; it was as if a cloak had dropped from the man’s shoulders. Vedaris turned to Sitara ever so slightly with a whispered, “Do you see that?”

  Sitara, still silent but now in shock, indeed saw the same thing. Cartilaginous wings sprouted from the man’s neck to his lower back, rooted in his shoulder blades. White wings. Huge white wings. Vedaris gulped and tried to remain calm.

  The man, who had stood looking at the flying students until now, turned to face them with a cool and calculating look. After a long moment he said icily, “It’s rude to reveal another person’s true form, you know.”

  Sitara, snapped back into reality by the censure, blurted, “I…‌I…we’re sorry. I just, just saw the light bending around you, and then when Vedaris came over, and well…‌it’s like it fell away.” She continued in a rush, almost tripping over her words, “Are you an Ansari?”

  Vedaris forbore rolling his eyes, thinking, Of course he dreckin’ is. What else looks Human but has huge white wings?

  “Indeed,” the winged man said, glaring at Vedaris. “I am Thoth, of the School of the Unknown.” He shifted his gaze to Sitara, tilting his head in a big-eyed stare reminiscent of an owl. “The light just fell away, you said? Yet the light would not just fall. You commanded it to do so, unintentionally or not. Always remember that.”

  He directed his next comment to Vedaris: “Young man, here is your first formal lesson. Seeing is not always believing. Good da
y to you both.” And then he turned and walked towards the towers.

  Sitara, still shaken, stared at Vedaris. He stared back. “Fire, water, and cane,” she said, in a small voice. “You do know what he meant, right?”

  “No,” Vedaris retorted, “Do you?”

  She sighed and said, a little exasperated, “Well, obviously he’s an Ansari who hides his form but can still fly. You’d think that most Ansari would be in the School of Air, but he’s obviously not. Of course, you’re obviously not in the School of Fire, and yet you’re a dragon.”

  Vedaris looked at her suspiciously. “You got all that from ‘Seeing is not always believing’?”

  Sitara mused, “I wonder how he cloaks his wings, and why? And why didn’t I see it before myself? Why only with you?”

  Vedaris rubbed the back of his head, glaring toward the School of the Unknown. “Good question.” At that point, they noticed that Allorna, Maride, and Sidimo had already started heading up the hill to the towers. With a quick glance at each other, they hurried to catch up.

  Each of the tower bases was separate from the others, and all were made of white brick. But that’s where the similarity ended. Each had a unique façade, stemming from different structural styles, architectural traditions, and various additions and platforms. The base of the School of Earth looked like a veritable miniature forest. Sidimo looked up, and whistled in appreciation. The Earth School appeared to have an actual greenhouse capping the top of its tower‌—‌a huge, glassy cube that shimmered in the morning sun. It was a little blinding to look at, but he could make out the green of trees and shrubbery behind the panes 20 yards up in the sky.

  Even in the Port of Sandrin, greenhouses were few and far between. The Severin glass used to make them was highly prized for the portalways, and there was only one noble family that Sidimo was aware of that could afford to outfit a greenhouse and hire the staff to keep, maintain, and specialize in the plants that grew in them.