First Year

by Rachel E. Carter

  “ALEX!”

  My brother’s jaw dropped as he followed my gaze.

  I continued to add pressure, hardly conscious of pain in light of my new discovery. Blood continued to puddle below me. “Alex, I have magic!”

  Breaking free from his initial shock, my twin rode over and snatched the knife away, giving me a dark look as he brandished the weapon.

  The fire ceased immediately as what remained of the moss crumbled to the ground in a withered heap.

  “Ryiah!” Alex scolded. “You shouldn’t have to maim yourself to perform a casting!” Any joy he’d felt at my revelation had been lost in wake of my blood.

  “I wasn’t even sure I had it,” I murmured. “But now…”

  Now that I knew I had magic…

  Staring determinedly at a nearby trunk, I willed my magic to take flight naturally. Without inflicting pain.

  Nothing.

  I squinted harder, ignoring the throbbing of my hand and the pounding in my head as I ogled the yellow-green mound. Every thought, every part of me strained as I attempted to project my magic onto the patch.

  Still, it remained unchanged.

  I tried, again and again. And again.

  Eventually we had passed a whole forest of moss-lined trees with not so much as the slightest hint of fire or casting of any nature.

  By the time we made camp for the evening, I was frustrated beyond measure.

  “What is wrong with me?” I griped, tossing a handful of wood into our fire. “Why can’t things ever come easy?”

  Alex laughed loudly. “Because it’s you, Ry. Nothing about your choices has ever been simple.”

  I made a frustrated sound. “It was never this hard for you!”

  He gave me a wry smile. “True, but you haven’t given yourself much of a chance, either. It took me two months just to get a handle on my magic, and I never did anything half as impressive as what you did to that outlaw.” He reached out to take my hand. “Don’t worry, Ry. I’m sure the masters will be able to show you how to use it without hurting yourself.”

  I hoped so. If not, I was in for a very rough year.

  The next morning I was jolted awake by something that sounded oddly reminiscent of thunder. Jumping out of my bedroll, I found Alex awake beside me watching tremors on the ground beneath his feet.

  “What is it?” I wondered at the same time that Alex said, “It sounds like a stampede.”

  I left my brother and walked over to the center of the road, trying to discern where the noise was coming from. It was right around the corner, whatever it was. In seconds I would be able to see—

  “Ry, get off the path!” My twin knocked me back just in time as nine tall, slick black horses emerged, taking up the entire trail with their riders. The men were riding in a two-columned formation with glistening livery that sparkled in the light.

  Eight of the riders bore heavy chainmail with metal plates lining their arms and shoulders. Knights. The expression underneath their helmets was dark and unrelenting.

  I felt a wave of nausea. If Alex hadn’t pulled me out of the way, I would have been trampled to death in their wake.

  At the center of the procession rode a young man who looked not much older than me. Unlike his guards, he wore no livery. Still, there was something formidable enough about him, and I had the overwhelming impression that he was anything but helpless.

  Everything about the rider’s dress unnerved me—his cloak, his pants, the boots, even his fastenings were black. What was even more unsettling, the stranger had the darkest eyes I’d ever seen. Matching his ink black, jaw-length locks, his garnet irises were the color of an endless night.

  The stranger locked eyes with me as he spotted my brother and me in passing. He scowled, and I felt as if I had been kicked in the gut. I was used to the bizarre behavior of our nobles back home, but this rider’s condescension was much deeper. What sort of person carried that much hostility toward strangers?

  Still, I couldn’t seem to look away.

  It was only after the group of riders had completely passed from sight that I recalled what the young man had been wearing. Hanging by a thick chain round his neck, there had been a hematite stone pendant.

  There was only one family in the entire kingdom that was allowed to wear a black gem of that description.

  Apparently, I had just watched one of the realm’s two princes pass me on horseback.

  It took a moment for the shock to register.

  “Do you know who that was?”

  Alex nodded speechlessly.

  “Do you think he’s going to the Academy…” I paused. What was I saying? Of course, he wasn’t.

  No member of the royal family was allowed to participate. It had been that way since the school’s founding, and in the ninety years the school had existed, no one had ever questioned the Council’s ruling.

  Alex seemed to be of the same mind: “There hasn’t ever been an issue between our king and the mages. I doubt one would arise now.”

  I hesitated. “Well, that prince certainly looked unhappy about something.”

  My brother yawned. “Maybe someone spit in his morning tea. Who cares?” He pointed to our camp. “We’ve still got a full day of riding in any case. Now help me ready the horses.”

  When we finally finished our climb, the sun had set, and in its place was a rosy-golden hue. A soft glow chased what remained of our journey, and I followed its vague outline across the hillside below.

  Tiny boxes dotted the landscape, little shops and houses at the center of Sjeka’s seaside township. A well-trodden dirt path wove between them, slithering past the sparse pasture until it finally came to rest at the base of an enormous structure.

  The Academy.

  Thick, dark slabs of grayish stone were placed upon one another to produce a striking fortress. Three colored cloth banners hung from poles attached to each side of the edifice. One for each faction: forest green, ember red, and raven black.

  At either end was a looming tower that peaked out into the night.

  I swallowed. The castle was at least four stories high at its lowest point, and every moment I stared, it seemed to grow.

  “If this is the Academy, what do you think the king’s palace looks like?” Alex wheezed.

  I had no answer.

  Nudging the mare a step forward, and then another, I began to make my descent. Alex followed softly behind, and in what seemed like ages but was probably only minutes, we arrived at the Academy doors.

  At their center, two heavy wrought steel handles awaited.

  The two of us dismounted and handed off our reins to a standing hostler.

  Taking a deep breath, I reached for a handle and gingerly pulled.

  It didn’t budge.

  Frowning, Alex joined me, and the two of us heaved until it finally creaked open.

  As soon as we were inside, I lost what little of my breath remained.

  Everything I had heard… it did not do justice to what my eyes were seeing now. Of course, I had known the Academy would be beautiful.

  But I hadn’t known it would be… so much.

  Black marble covered the entire floor, making every step we took echo disconcertingly.

  In a contrast that should have been jarring but wasn’t, the walls were a rough, uncut sandstone. On them metal sconces held ever-burning torches in place, but instead of the natural, golden radiance of fire, they emitted a flickering, crystalline blue flame.

  At the end of the passage I could see a large room containing an enormous, spiraling stair.

  As I approached the atrium, the sheer size of it seemed to multiply. The stairwell stood at its center, steadily rising and secured by thick iron railings. As it touched the second floor, the well separated into two twisting cases with a giant, many-paned window at its base. Facing due west, the window revealed the jagged rocks and sea that Sjeka was famous for.

  Moonlight bathed the entire room, and I looked up to find the most riveting feature ye
t. The ceiling had been constructed entirely of stained glass. Thousands of twinkling red and gold glass fragments greeted my open-mouthed gaze. Wow.

  “Looks like two more lowborns.”

  Startled out of my mesmerized state, I took in the rest of my surroundings. Upon entering the room, I had failed to notice the large gathering of people to my left. A hundred or so young men and women were clustered around a figure I couldn’t quite make out. For the most part, they seemed to be listening attentively and had paid little heed to Alex’s and my entrance, but a couple of stragglers were eyeing the two of us skeptically.

  Instantly I became conscious of what we must look like. Five days of horsehair and exhaustion. Riding clothes stained from dirt and sweat and blood. My hair a shoulder-length tangled disaster. Even our arms bore a nice coating of dust since the last time we had bathed. Not to mention my injuries.

  So much for first impressions.

  I ignored the stares and followed my brother as he pushed his way through the crowd, attempting to catch a glimpse of who was commanding everyone’s attention. As I squeezed past arms and elbows, I caught my foot on something hard and found myself falling forward.

  Luckily, it was so packed that I just ended up colliding with the person in front of me rather than landing face down on the floor.

  “I’m so—”

  The tall stranger turned around.

  It was him. The prince with the angry eyes from the trade road.

  Many hours later, and it appeared his expression hadn’t changed.

  “—sorry,” I finished lamely.

  He just looked at me, irritated. I felt heat start to rise in my cheeks under his taciturn stare, but seconds later I was facing his back again.

  Well he’s a charmer, I thought dryly.

  Having just annoyed one of the heirs to the kingdom of Jerar, I decided to move on to less provoking tactics. I safely negotiated my way through the rest of the mass and joined Alex at the front of the room.

  In a long, layered, black silk robe, a large man stood conversing with his audience. I recognized him from the insignia on his sleeve.

  “Is that Master Barclae?” Alex whispered awestruck.

  I nodded. Master Barclae, or as his title commanded, “Master of the Academy,” was a handsome man with sharp features and a salt and pepper trimmed mustache that suited his face. He had started leading the Academy a year or two before Alex and I had been born. Many said it was because of him that Jerar’s last Candidacy had had such strong contenders.

  I strained to hear what he was saying.

  “—first two months will be spent exploring the fundamentals and identifying the faction you will choose to commit your studies to. The remainder will be spent learning the foundation of its magic.”

  Someone mumbled a question.

  The large man laughed coldly. “There is no such thing as ‘rest.’ If you want an easy career, you should have applied to one of the other schools our Crown sponsors. The School of Knighthood, perhaps, or maybe the Cavalry? The latter’s retention is so high I suspect they hang gum drops from its rafters.”

  I glanced at my twin. There was nothing easy about either of the schools the master had mentioned.

  Alex returned my anxious smile with one of his own. Too late to turn back now.

  “Why are there only fifteen? Because fifteen is already too generous. Magic is hardly common enough to justify that number—the only reason we have that many is because the Crown demands at least fifteen new war mages each year to enter its company. At one point it was far higher, but it was a waste of resources and jeopardized the training of the few who deserved to be here. The Academy’s expectations are demanding, and it would be idiocy to train incompetents. It is a privilege we allow fifteen as it is. Do not waste my time with such nonsense.”

  The students continued to pester the man with questions until he finally cleared his throat. “That is enough for tonight. It is late, and your official induction will be taking place tomorrow morning.” He snorted. “Try to save such senseless queries for your other masters.” Without bothering to wait for a response, the Master of the Academy exited the podium, disappearing through a corridor on my left.

  Not one member of the audience moved. It was only a couple of minutes later when a frenzied manservant appeared that any of us broke free of the trance.

  “Master Barclae will return in the morning,” the man squeaked. “If you haven’t done so already, please check in with Constable Barrius, our master staffer, in the east wing. He will assist with your placement.”

  Almost immediately, the crowd dispersed. Most of the students set off in the same direction as Master Barclae while my twin and I followed a handful of others at the right. As we began to make our way down another long corridor, I struck up a conversation with a friendly-looking girl at the front.

  “I guess I can see why my parents didn’t want us to choose the Academy.”

  The girl glanced at me. “My older brother tried out a couple of years ago. He said it was only as hard as you make it…” She laughed. “Then again, Jeff was one of the first to resign, so maybe I shouldn’t be listening to a word my brother says.”

  I grinned. “I’m Ryiah.’”

  “Ella,” she told me with a dark hand outstretched.

  “I’m here with my twin,” I told her. I pointed to my brother. He was too busy to notice, flirting shamelessly with a blonde girl behind us.

  Oh Alex, I thought. Already?

  “You two don’t look much alike,” she observed.

  I shrugged.

  “So where are you from?”

  “A couple days east. Have you heard of Demsh’aa?”

  Ella nodded, ebony locks falling across her hazel eyes. “My father usually visits the apothecary there whenever he passes through. He likes the sleep sachets and swears they are better than the ones he buys from the palace mages.”

  “That’s our family store!” I exclaimed. “Alex made those. We didn’t get half as much business when it was my parents.” I smiled. “He’s always had a keen eye for those things. It was the biggest surprise when he said he wanted to be a healer.”

  “Oh,” she paused, “are you planning on Restoration too then?”

  “Combat.”

  Ella laughed. “Aren’t we all.”

  “What about you?”

  “The same.” She made a flippant gesture with her hand. “My family lived at court for thirteen years before they finally gave up on me as a lady-in-waiting. I spent a year convincing them to let me try out for the School of Knighthood…but then I discovered my magic. So here I am instead.”

  So Ella was highborn. It explained her accent. But she was also stubborn, and that made me like her. It would be nice to have a friend in the same faction.

  “What time did you arrive?”

  “Not long before the two of you. But don’t worry. We didn’t miss much. I overheard someone say that Master Barclae was the only master to make an appearance.”

  I sighed. “Good. I would have been upset if we had. We made good time today, but it was still an eight hour ride.”

  “You do look as if you’ve had a long day,” she observed.

  I fingered my stain-covered shirt and its frayed ends. “It’s been a long week.”

  “What happ—oh, look, I think we are here.” Ella pointed to an opening where one of the others had just disappeared through. Following the rest of our group into the chamber, we came face-to-face with a formidable old man and the frantic-looking servant from earlier. Each one of them held a scroll with names.

  “Ladies first,” the old man barked.

  When everyone had finished, the constable eyed us with distaste. “Well, well, young ones, welcome to our realm’s own version of the Realm of the Dead. For as long as you last, this will be your new home.”

  No one spoke. Is everyone here so angry? I wondered. I had heard the staff didn’t like first-years, but I had assumed Master Barclae was an exception. N
ow I was wondering if they hated them.

  “Well, not this place exactly, but close to it. We keep your living quarters out behind the Academy. There are two barracks to separate each of your lots.”

  My jaw dropped. Barracks? I heard a gasp to my right and knew I wasn’t the only one.

  “Frederick,” the old man said, jerking his thumb at the manservant beside him, “will take you there. You will carry your own bags. We don’t waste castle chambers on first-years, so the barracks are where you will spend your time when you are not eating or training here in the Academy. The apprentice mages spend most of their time abroad, except for a couple months during the fall, so the layout of the Academy will be at your disposal.”

  “We have rules you must follow in accordance with your residency,” the constable added tartly. “You are not allowed to enter the residence of the opposite sex. Curfew is ten. Classes are mandatory. No unauthorized fighting. And you may not leave the Academy grounds. There are no exceptions.”

  The man looked to the ceiling. “Any infraction of these rules and you will find yourself in my chambers. Don’t let it happen. I have been known to send first-years home on a first offense.”

  The entire walk to the barracks was silent. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one to expect a more amiable orientation.

  When we reached the wooded buildings, I bid my twin goodnight and entered the women’s residence with Ella.

  The inside was much bigger than I had anticipated, even for a crowding of fifty girls, and not nearly as loathsome. Double bunks were spread out in rows with comfortable blankets and small trunks lining each of the walls for our belongings. A large fireplace stood at the furthest corner, no fire present but undoubtedly cozy in winter. There were even a couple baths in a joining house, and while I would probably have to spend half my night waiting to use one, at least I’d have the opportunity.

  There were also two servants to contribute to the upkeep. As the constable had warned, the Academy staff didn’t assist with personal needs, but they did build fires, clean sheets, and heat water for bathing. It was more than I’d had at home.

  Almost immediately I could identify which girls had come from a background similar to mine, and which were highborn. The ones like me were far and few between, maybe ten amongst the fifty or so present. We tended to be the ones smiling at our luck while the others complained loudly about the “accommodations.” Ella wasn’t outspoken like the others, but I could sense that even she was disappointed.