Suppliant

by Laura Tree

  Chapter 12

  The trip to The Isle, where they’ve decided I should train, takes a full day, giving me plenty of time to think about Damien. More like fantasize. I can’t get him out of my head. Every time I try to think of the beauty of this realm, his face creeps back in.

  As soon as the sun sets, we choose a place to bunk down for the night. Damien makes a fire to keep us warm. The guards sent with us from Queen Merona take turns being on the lookout.

  Damien sleeps so close to my sleeping bag that I can hear his breathing and smell his breath. It’s nerve--racking. Here I am trying to focus on finding this Pendant and getting home and all I can think about is Damien.

  Silver neighs as we break over the mountain path, and the ocean comes into view, her pulse quickening with every step. I can smell the salty breeze. The wind catches my hair and blows it across my face. It smells like home.

  “We are almost there, just another few miles,” one of the Queen’s guards proclaims. The excitement courses through my chest; I feel like my heart is going to explode.

  The ride downhill goes a lot faster than climbing the mountain. Before I know it, we’re a few meters away from a boat, the boat that’s going to get us to The Isle, I assume.

  “All aboard; she ain’t much, but she will still float. It’s about a four--mile ride. It shouldn’t take but an hour. Before you know it we’ll be there,” the captain says. He looks more like a hillbilly than a captain. He has on a pair of worn blue jean overalls and a pipe sticking out of his mouth. He looks to be at least seventy years old, with gray hair peppering his head. He resembles Popeye, sans muscles.

  The “boat” is too small for my liking. It’s a wooden rowboat that seats six. It used to be painted white, but the sun and the surf have marred its shell.

  “Of course, if I have an extra person to paddle, we can make it in thirty minutes.” The captain looks around, waiting for a volunteer.

  I take his lead and glance at every person in our party. Queen Merona has sent ten men to escort. I get the feeling that she and Damien have talked about our Morphon attack on the way to the castle, which is what has prompted her to send so many guards.

  My gaze falls upon Damien, a sense of pleading in my eyes. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.

  When we left the castle, Damien informed me we were headed to The Isle. He said that in order to train at The Isle, I would be tested. They need to know I have enough power.

  Knowing that test--taking is not my strong suit, anxiety overcomes me. It fills my stomach with butterflies and my palms with sweat.

  “I volunteer,” Damien’s voice pronounces. A sense of relief washes over me. Thank goodness. I want to get this over with already.

  I take a few moments to pet Silver and say goodbye. I’m not sure when I will see her again.

  …

  “Layla? Layla Sanders?” a perky blonde’s voice asks.

  “Here,” I say, standing.

  “Follow me,” the perky blonde says, holding a clipboard. She’s wearing business casual and looks like a secretary. Before I can ask her name, she turns on her high heels and scurries off.

  I look at Damien, who gives me a tight smile and turns to follow her. Damien’s smile does nothing for my nerves at the moment.

  The blonde ushers me into a large circular room. It has beautiful hardwood floors and tall Victorian windows which look upon The Isle and sea. There’s a group of Evaluators sitting behind what resembles a judge’s bench. There are six in all, staring at me with a grim look.

  “Presenting Layla Sanders.” The perky blonde turns and points her hand at me, open palm facing the ceiling. I can’t help but think that it’s such an elegant gesture for someone with no manners. I can’t believe she hasn’t introduced herself. Maybe she does that to everyone who she thinks won’t pass the test.

  “That is all, Miss Rapson.” One of the evaluators speaks up as the perky blonde slides out of the room. At least I know her name now.

  “State your name.”

  I’m not sure which one is speaking, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all at least twenty feet away and looking down at their papers. My mom would have had a heart attack at the lack of pleasantries exchanged here.

  “Layla Sanders,” I say.

  “Your occupation?” The Isle of Monotone should be its nickname. These evaluators are all seriousness, and I still can’t tell which one is speaking.

  “Student,” I state. I’m too young to have any other occupation.

  “Place of origin?” A voice speaks up.

  “Earth,” I say, causing a few heads to snap up.

  “Your categorization,” one evaluator asks.

  “My what?” I don’t mean to be rude; it just kind of slips out. All of the evaluators look at me and then at each other. Confusion seems to be a common theme in the room at the moment.

  “Are you trained?” someone asks.

  “That’s what I thought I was here for.” I look to each one of them individually, not sure if it really matters. I feel very confused; my eyelids start to get droopy. My limbs are tingling. I have a sudden urge to sleep. The darkness takes me as my head hits the floor.

  ...

  My eyes open to find Damien’s face a few inches away.

  “What happened? Did I fall asleep? Does that mean I’m not in?” I ask.

  Damien rolls his eyes. By now he’s used my never--ending questions about this crazy new existence of mine.

  “Evaluators have special skills like you and me. They put you to sleep to test you. Since you’re unknowledgeable, it was too risky to perform the test while you were awake. You know, just in case you aren’t powerful enough to make it in. Don’t worry; you did make it in,” Damien says, to my relief.

  The sense of pride swells up within me at his words. I made it in, me, Layla Sanders. I think back to the ride here when Damien told me that less than two percent of the magical population has enough power to make it into The Isle for training.

  Damien also told me that The Isle is an elite training facility, focused on specialization, protected by the Council. It’s considered one of the safest places in all of the Realms.

  The Council is in charge of all the magical stuff. They mainly stay in the Zeather Realm. They live in a city called Corinth. They’re the regulators, the people who make sure that the Light and Dark are balanced.

  Damien said it would be catastrophic if either Light or Dark took more power; there has to be a balance. I imagine it’s like the yin and the yang.

  The perky blonde pops her head into my view. “Right this way, please. I’ll show you to your rooms.”

  I tuck my hand into Damien’s offered one as he pulls me to my feet. As soon as our hands make contact, I feel overwhelmed.

  I’m in a magical realm, filled with magical people, and I have magical powers. My parents are magical. I’m on a mission to find some mysterious pendant. Why on Earth did I agree to all of this? I guess I should change the saying to “why in the Realms did I agree to this?”

  A new sense of need fills me. I feel my power well up in my chest. The look on Damien’s face tells me that he feels it too. I glance at him as his eyes widen. He pulls me to his chest and brings his lips to my ear. “Not here, squelch it. Think about something else,” he whispers, knowing that I’m about to lose control of my power.

  The need is racing inside me; I can feel it in my blood. I need to find this necklace, the Azure Pendant.

  My sudden rush of power must have something to do with my being tested. Maybe they brought more to the surface that I didn’t know was there. Who am I kidding? I didn’t know that I had power until a day ago.

  “What else am I supposed to think about?” I whisper back. All of this thinking is not helping. I can feel it getting stronger. It feels like my chest is going to explode.

  “Me.” His lips crush down on mine. His hands slide around to my lower back and press me into him. Another n
eed starts to take over; passion starts ebbing in. It pushes back my power, until there is nothing left but the burning sensation running all over my body. He feels my power subside and pulls away from me.

  The second he lets go my hand, I feel like I’ve lost something. It feels like my heart is missing a little piece. I’m trying to swallow my tears when the perky blonde clears her throat and takes off.

  At least Damien did the trick. I will have to remember that next time I start to lose control. Damien can help me reel in my power by distracting me.

  She heads back through the entrance that we had already been through, and around a corner and to the left. She takes us down a long hallway; it’s beautiful. They have Victorian windows, the same style as the ones in the training room, facing the ocean.

  I stop for a moment to look out the window; I can see for miles from up here. It looks like we are five stories up, and I can see the rock jutting out from underneath the building. Over the edge of the cliff is the same vibrant green grass, leading to an open area, like a meadow. Further down lies more cliff peaks, and then nothing but open ocean.

  As I walk down the hallway, I can’t help thinking about how beautiful this place is. It has granite floors that have a swirly patter, with light tan and other colors. It has large arched ceilings with crystal chandeliers hanging every fifteen feet. The hallway is a tan color, with white crown molding. It looks stunning and elegant.

  We turn the corner and enter an area that is clearly housing. There’s a sitting area in the middle, complete with sofas, chairs, end tables, and a fireplace. There are doors on each side. We walk for a few minutes, seeing several living areas that are identical.

  The perky blonde comes to a stop. Reaching out, she unlocks the plain door.

  “These two conjoining rooms are yours. You can choose who gets which room. You will share the bathroom,” she says. Reaching out, she hands Damien the keys and walks away.

  Damien looks at me. “It’s your choice. Which room would you like?”

  “This one is fine,” I say. It happens to be the adjoining room on the left; the other room is to the right, and the bathroom is between the two. He hands me the key and turns to walk into his room.