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The Forgotten Magicks: The Academy's Call

Page 10

by Caden Nantes


  With that he scooped up his ale, drank it down in a few quick gulps, and headed out the door. After rounding the building and entering the stables, he found a small boy tending to the horses. Spotting him, the boy leapt up, smiling. "Hiya, I'm Jurgon! I tend to the stables here along with Anthony. What can I do for ya?"

  "I'm in need of a small horse, something resilient."

  The boy cast a knowing glance at Barind's small frame, and then turned to a specific stall. "Rejina might work." he guided a pony out of the stall. She had light brown hair with white splotches, and her mane was a darker brown.

  Barind bobbed his head. "How much?"

  Jurgon raised an eyebrow. "For this lovely mare? Five silvers."

  The dwarf payed him with an extra four coppers he had left over, and then hopped onto the saddle Jurgon fitted onto Rejina. Just as he was turning to leave, he remembered something. "Oh, and I'll need a slightly larger horse for my friend, Anthony."

  The boy's face lit up. "Anthony's your friend? Great! I'll give ya a discount on ol' Bruno here."

  He guided a brown horse out of a stall, nodding to Barind. "Four silvers, five coppers."

  After paying him, Anthony seemed to appear right in front of Barind. He arched an eyebrow at him. "You're paying for a horse, for me?"

  The dwarf grunted. "Well, they ain't just for you. I need one for myself too, ya know." he patted Rejina's side.

  Anthony shrugged. "Well, if we're going on this adventure, I suppose I should suit up." he pulled his leather armor from his bag and slipped it on, along with a variety of small throwing spears, arrows, and bigger spears.

  "Where'd ya get all that?" Barind gaped at him.

  Anthony spread his hand, before hopping up onto Bruno. "Thanks for the horses, Jurgon!"

  The boy smiled. "Be safe!"

  The dwarf snapped his reigns, and Rejina broke into a trot out of town and into the forest.

  ∆∆∆

  Barind frowned at the forest around them. The trees were thinning out after only three hours of riding. They were heading south, toward a large canyon. Barren landscapes stretched out in front of them, and Barind barely noticed when the trees turned to shrubs. He had no idea which way they would need to go in order to reach the land of the dwarves. He just knew they were heading in the general direction.

  After a few more hours of the sun beating down on them, Barind started to doze off. Many times he jolted awake to find he'd almost fallen off the horse. "Curse these ponies," he muttered as he nearly dropped off the horse's flank for the fourth time.

  Anthony chuckled at his side. "Do you want to stop for the day? Looks like you need some rest."

  "No!" Barind snapped. "I must find the creatures that killed my brethren!"

  Anthony waved his hands in the air. "Whoa! Sorry, sorry. I was just making a suggestion."

  Barind sighed, feeling bad he'd yelled at the boy. "My apologies. It's just..." he shook his head. "Those monsters did something to all my fellow dwarves in Marrugdan. Aran help me, I don't even know if they killed them, so much as absorbed them."

  Anthony nodded, but said nothing as the sun dipped over the horizon. Looking at the size of the ball of fire, Barind thought it was either the fifth of sixth day. Soon the seventh sun would rise, and bring with it scorching heat Barind did not look forward to.

  A sharp voice woke him from his fifth time of nodding off. Irritated, he glared at Anthony. "What?"

  "There's something out there!" he pointed in front of them.

  "What're you–" Barind was cut off by the spear that grazed his shoulder. "Argh!" he shouted, clutching at the exposed flesh.

  He drew his axe, though he didn't know how he would use it in a ranged battle.

  "Barind!" Anthony shouted. "Look in your pack! I got you a crossbow! Use it!"

  Furrowing his brow but obliging all the same, Barind pulled a steel crossbow out of his pack. It could hold four bolts at a time. A quiver was also in the pack. He shook his head. "How in the world did you get a crossbow, and how'd you get it in this pack?"

  "No time!" yelled Anthony as he readied a throwing spear. Ahead of them, a dust storm swirled. It began to take shape, until it was a humanoid figure wielding a spear and made of rock and dust.

  "What the...?" Barind aimed his crossbow at the monster. "Take that!" a bolt zipped through its body, leaving a hole in its chest. It looked down at the hole, and back at the dwarf. Making a terrible, screeching noise, the demon flung its spear at Barind.

  He guided his horse out of the way just in time. The beast roared again, another spear forming in its hand. Barind fired his crossbow rapidly, leaving multiple holes in the beast. Jamming the weapon back in his pack, he drew his axe again. Extending it to full length, he taunted the creature. "Come and get me!"

  It swept its spear low, forming a large gash in Rejina's leg. The horse nickered, tumbling to the ground and carrying Barind with it. He fought to get out of the stirrups, to no avail. "This is why I hate traveling by horse!"

  The demon was barreling toward him, spear outstretched. Barind swung his axe full circle, saving him of the stirrups and relieving the beast of its head. The dust storm settled, dropping to the ground.

  Panting with exertion, Barind turned to Anthony. "What in Aran's name was that thing?"

  "A Dust Demon. I've been reading up on some tomes Illia lent me. That was in one of them."

  The dwarf shook his head. "What manner of foul creature turns into a dust storm?"

  "Legend has it they were created by a dark magician long ago. He was said to have used them as his minions." Anthony retrieved one of his throwing spears and stashed it in his belt.

  Barind turned toward his horse. Kneeling down beside her, he frowned at the large gash on her foreleg. "I don't think we'll be able to heal her."

  Anthony knitted his eyebrows together. "We can't just leave her here!"

  Barind grunted. "I know. We'll think of something."

  "I have an idea."

  Barind spun around, brandishing his axe in front of him. "Who's there?"

  "Over here."

  Twisting again, the dwarf saw a cloaked figure looking back at him. He held a staff in his hand, and a beige cloak was wrapped around his body. Three more forms stepped forward. One was dressed in all black, with a strange purple ring on his finger and two swords strapped across his back. Another held a bow in her hand, and a sword was sheathed at her waist. Black locks fell across her shoulders, and she was dressed in forest green and leather clothes.

  The final figure wielded a huge sword, nearly as tall as its bearer, who looked to be over six feet tall. He was clothed in dark leather, with a steel breastplate overtop. Malice gleamed in his eyes as he shifted to the side.

  Barind's eyes widened to see yet another man behind the last, if that's even what he was. His long hair was completely white, and he held a sword with a strange circle at the base. A scar ran from his eye to his jaw, and he was clad in silver and black.

  "My name is Dtryro, and these are my four companions, Darkyn, Lysla, Ralbren, and The White Lion."

  "Call me Whifyre," offered the man with the white hair.

  "What do you want? Why are you here?" Barind glared at the five of them.

  "Why, we're travelers, just like you! As for what we want... well, that is up to you." said Dtryro.

  "What do you mean it's up to us?" asked Anthony.

  Darkyn's gaze flitted to the boy. "We are a part of a group, called the Dimoners. We seek to gain more knowledge, and with it, power."

  A shudder racked Barind's body at the last word. "We don't know anything."

  Whifyre smirked at him. "Of course you do! You're travelers, so you know something. Tell us of your journeys, and we will heal your steed."

  Barind jolted. He'd completely forgotten about poor Rejina, who was still bleeding profusely. He looked to Anthony, who's eyes were big and pleading. Barind sighed, but said, "Fine. In exchange for healing my mount, we tell you of our adventures."


  "Perfect!" Dtryro clapped his hands, and spun around, disappearing behind a mound of sand.

  Barind arched an eyebrow at Anthony, who shrugged. A few moments later, a large wagon appeared, with Dtryro driving it. "Hop in!"

  After sharing a foreboding look with Anthony, Barind marched up to the wagon, axe still in hand, and stepped through the open portal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ash's Fire

  Ashlyn stormed down the many corridors of the Academy. She couldn't believe the professors. The ettin? Again? She was furious. That beast had killed many students before, and injured others gravely. She was a healer, not an angel!

  She burst through the door to the Arena, gasping at the sight before her. Two long ropes attached to the walls were wound around the ettin's legs and necks. A student in green and leather clothing was on the giant's arm, rope and dagger in hand. After winding the rope around the creature's arm, he leapt off, pulling the rope taut. A huge hand swept out, slamming the student into the wall. His prone form didn't get up again.

  Ashlyn rushed to him and knelt down. Placing her hand on his forehead, her eyes widened to see pointed ear tips. An elf? No wonder he's so handsome. She shook her head to clear it, then called upon her healer magic. A soft, white glow radiated from her hand. The elf gasped, eyes flashing open as he sat up. He looked around, before turning to her with a confused stare.

  "Who are you? How am I awake?"

  She smiled. "My name's Ashlyn. I just healed you."

  A frown creased his eyebrows, which somehow made him look even–Stop it! she told herself. What's wrong with you?

  "The ettin– it looks like we finally beat it."

  Now it was her turn to frown. She turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise. The giant was sprawled across the ground. Another student was atop it, stabbing it repeatedly with a knife. The ettin's arm came out of nowhere, bashing the student into the ground.

  Ashlyn used her staff to hoist herself up, taking one last look at her patient before rushing off to assist the other. She went through the same steps as she had before, with this patient sitting up abruptly. He stared at her for a few moments before turning toward the ettin. A grin spread across his face.

  "I beat it!" he proclaimed.

  Ashlyn raised an eyebrow, but decided to let the matter rest. She scurried around the Arena, healing patient after patient, and getting more and more tired. With each progressive heal, her energy got lower and lower, until she could hardly mend a broken leg. Finally, she slumped against the wall, blackness pushing in on her vision.

  “Students!” roared a male voice, making Ashlyn jump. “You have passed the first trial… at least those of you still alive!” Gar laughed. There was no mirth in it. “I asked my healers to give each of you who have severe injuries, or are unconscious a mark. That way, I know who to expel. I have made a special case for any of those participating in the defeat of the ettin, namely Prince Tristan of the Elves, Jax Aylon, Kyle Sephinweed, and Aeyn Dragonsbane.”

  Ashlyn gasped. Prince Tristan of the Elves? She looked over to the only elf she’d seen. The one with the flowing blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and–oh! The prince turned to look at her. He smiled, and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She tried to make herself frown, but ended up smiling instead. Come on, Ashlyn. He’s only a Prince of the Elves…. But that was exactly the problem. She mentally kicked herself.

  Gar marched up to her, another healer beside him. The healer held a small, delicately-woven basket with bread spilling out the top. “Eat, it will recover your strength.” said Gar.

  But suddenly Ashlyn didn’t need strength. All her energy came rushing back in a fit of rage. She flew to standing, sticking out her neck and throwing up a finger. “Strength? Strength!? I don’t need strength! What I need is for you to stop sending students to their deaths against an ettin!”

  Gar looked down at her calmly. “None of them died, now did they?”

  Ashlyn’s nostrils flared. “Actually, a few of them did. Three, to be exact. Three! What would the Ministry think of this? Huh? Huh!?!?”

  Multiple gasps sounded behind her, and fear flashed over Gar’s expression. She frowned, following his gaze to the floor. Her gasp joined the others at what she saw there. A ring of white fire encircled Gar, flickering and occasionally licking his boots. Her anger forgotten, the fire receded, as if it was never there.

  Gar’s fear turned to outrage. “You dare use evil, chaotic magic against me?! How dare you! I thought you my most trusted healer. You have disappointed me.” he turned to two guards who’d marched up behind him at the sight of the fire. “Take her to the dungeons. Hold her there until I inform the Ministry we have someone they should pick up.”

  “No!” screamed Ashlyn as strong hands clamped across her shoulder. “Gar, please!”

  It was no use. A blow landed on the back of her head, and she slumped in the guards’ grasp. The last thing she saw before she slipped into unconsciousness was a prince’s worried –but handsome!– expression.

  ∆∆∆

  Sylin trailed his gaze along the Arena. In the center was a huge, felled beast. Its two heads were turned at an unnatural angle. A long, bloodied knife protruded out of its back, courtesy of Kyle Sephinweed. That was where Sylin’s gaze was now, on the cocky, blonde-haired student who believed he killed the ettin all by himself. He was standing by a group of friends, all listening in suspenseful awe as he recounted the dramatic tale of how he defeated the giant.

  “And then, I jumped the beast with all my might, slamming it to the ground as I stabbed it in the back!”

  Of course, all those students had already saw how it’d gone down, but Kyle didn’t seem to care.

  Sylin turned his attention to the young healer, being dragged away by two guards for doing magic. He’d heard about the Ministry, but never thought it was so… strict. Especially since he’d seen Girrdan practice it without as much of a glare in his direction. Speaking of the old elf, Tristan now stood near the entrance to the Arena, watching the guards drag the healer away. Conflict and uncertainty clashed in his eyes.

  Sylin’s lips curled in amusement. Seems the Druid’s kiss might come true after all! But all amusement fled as he realized something. Gar said dungeons, and that didn’t bode well for the healer. A gasp escaped his lips. He’d overheard the healer saying her name was Ashlyn. Which meant….

  “Tristan!” Sylin strode toward his friend, who turned to look at him.

  The elf frowned, turning back to Ashlyn and the guards as the doors slammed closed behind them. “What?” he called over his shoulder.

  “It seems we’re going to have to rescue your not-so-secret admirer.”

  Tristan’s scowl deepened as he turned to face Sylin. “What are you talking about?”

  “What I’m talking about,” growled Sylin, “is that we need to prevent a certain prophecy from coming true.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “You mean…?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. And we’re going to have to do it before moonlight whisks the Ash away.”

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to my uncle Zach, my aunt Cori, my other aunt Casey, my grandmother, Debbie, my Mother, and my Father.

 

 

 


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