First Year

by Rachel E. Carter

  As Ray attempted to quench the fires with an outpouring of sand, I threw all the force I could muster at Ray’s feet, willing the earth to crack open just as it had done for Ella. The ground moaned loudly and collapsed, but I was too slow. Ray was gone.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t see anything. A thick cloud of smoke had appeared out of nowhere, and now I was surrounded by thick, gray fog anywhere that I turned.

  Coughing, I tried to summon enough wind to rid me of the heavy vapor, but before I could blow it far enough away, the sharp “zzzzzing” of metal slicing through the air alerted me seconds before Ray’s sword came slashing through the haze.

  I had the barest instant to throw up a shield to block the overhead blow, and then Ray’s sword slammed my defense. My arms buckled and quaked, but I held on. As soon as Ray withdrew his blade to try a different cut, I blindly slammed my shield into his chest. I threw myself into the blow, effectively cutting off my opponent’s windpipe as the impact knocked the both of us backward and out of the blinding smoke.

  The two of us fell expertly. Both had spent months practicing how to land correctly. I tucked in my chin and knees, letting the impact hit my bottom, rolling until the impact faded. Then I pulled myself up at the same time as Ray.

  We faced each other warily.

  I braced myself, keeping my stance limber as I awaited Ray’s next attack. I had used up a lot of my magic in that first—and now useless— attempt to entrap him. I had to be careful to conserve the rest for my defense.

  Ray had always done well in our class but I had never paid much attention to his training. I’d been so consumed with watching Darren and Priscilla that I had never stopped to think about the others in their group.

  Now I wished I had.

  A minute passed, and then I saw it in the way Ray was holding his arms. I threw up my shield, widening my stance and angling my guard arm so that I would not receive the full impact of his casting.

  His magic hit me much harder than Ella or Clayton’s had ever done in practice. I had to dig in my heels to keep the magic from taking over my defense.

  There was a shattering vibration and then Ray’s magic rebounded. Magic shot off the shield and into the woods behind me. A moment later there was a loud crack as a pine split in two.

  I swallowed, realizing how close I had come to losing the match. That shield trick had just saved me from an instant defeat. I never would have been able to block a casting like that head on.

  Ray’s mouth fell open in shock. He recovered quickly, but it was just enough for me to realize that while I had not noticed him in practice, he had clearly paid attention to my duel with Priscilla. That attack had been no accident. He had been planning to capitalize on my weakness. Thankfully, it was a weakness I no longer had.

  Ray narrowed his eyes, and I readied myself for another casting. When nothing happened immediately, I squinted, trying to see what could possibly be delaying his attack. A second later I noticed the glint of steel and the strange curve of metal in my opponent’s hand. It was similar to the battleaxes we had practiced with in class, only this new weapon was much smaller, and the haft was not even two feet in length.

  Why did he pick such a small weapon?

  The answer came moments later when he hurled the object at me with staggering force. I threw up a shield and took off at a run, sprinting as fast as my legs could carry me.

  If Ray had been a knight I would have been able to dodge the axe easily. But we were mages, and Ray was using his magic to steer the weapon. It crashed down upon my shield.

  The blade was heavier than I had expected. The impact sent me stumbling to my knees as the shield splintered in two. The axe’s thick iron-tipped edge dug into my right shoulder, cutting a deep gash that was felt all the way down my arm.

  I bit my lip, hard, and forced myself to stand. Blood was pouring from the wound and it was costing me everything not to cry out in pain. I glanced to Ray and saw another throwing axe had appeared in his hand. My heart stopped.

  If he kept throwing those axes, he would be able to wear out my stamina much sooner than he did his own. Normal long-range weapons couldn’t break a shield. An axe could, but up until now I had foolishly assumed that it would not be a problem in distance encounters.

  The second axe came hurtling toward me. I made a swift decision to change tactics. Instead of running away, I ran toward the axe. I threw my shield as hard as I could, sending the two items tottering off harmlessly to the left of the field.

  I hadn’t wanted to engage Ray directly. He was tall and stocky, and I knew he would be able to outlast me in any weighted exchange. Especially with an open wound. But as long as he kept throwing those axes at me, I had no choice…unless I used my magic for something big, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that again, seeing as how my last two attacks had done little else than drain my magic.

  Summoning two blades, a hefty broadsword for myself, and a spectral blade for an additional attack, I lunged at Ray with everything I had.

  It was a mistake. As soon as I engaged him I realized how reckless the decision was. Ray only needed to wait for me to bleed out and make a mistake. I shouldn’t have rushed him.

  It was too late though, and I tried my best to ameliorate the situation. As predicted, Ray made no attempt to expend himself. I felt like a fool as we continued to exchange blows. Piers had spent months lecturing us about the realities of injury in battle. “Nine times out of ten a knight dies not because of a direct wound, but minor ones that amass over time. The blood loss ultimately makes him dizzy and weak, which will cause him to make more mistakes than usual. This is what the enemy will wait for. The smart ones don’t strike to kill. They just wait for you to do the work for them.”

  This can’t be how it ends.

  I continued to lead the assault. Ignoring the throbbing of my right arm, I clutched the sword in both hands and delivered blow after blow with endless vigor. I tried to will my second casting to do the same, but Ray was prepared with a spectral blade of his own.

  Our match transformed into a flurry of swordplay.

  I knew I would lose if I kept the contest going, but I was out of ideas. We were thirty minutes into our match, and Ray still looked as composed as when we had started. Meanwhile sweat was stinging my eyes, my limbs were aching all over, and my shoulder smarted terribly whenever I shifted weight.

  My spectral blade faltered. Just as it deflected Ray’s oncoming blow, I felt the casting shudder. I slammed the broadsword I was holding as hard as I could into Ray’s left side. He blocked easily, as I had known he would, but the impact gave me just enough time to jump back before my second casting vanished completely.

  I began to run toward the armory.

  All I had left was the sword in my hand. My magic hadn’t been able to hold onto both. It had exhausted most of its limits trying to float the spectral blade and wield it on its own. I was beginning to feel lightheaded, and the searing pain in my forehead had begun. It was only a matter of minutes before my magic expired completely, and then I’d be defenseless.

  I had to get my hands on a real weapon.

  Mid-sprint I released the broadsword casting and used the last bit of magic I had to summon a shield at my back. I was too open to attack, racing across the grassy field.

  Not even a second later there was the sharp whistle of arrows and then the repetitive thuds as they lodged themselves harmlessly into my shield.

  The ground beneath my feet began to tremble. I dove to my right. Glancing back, I saw a fissure where I had been headed just moments before.

  I was close to the armory door now. Just another minute and I would be safely inside. It was off limits, I knew, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t just let Ray win. I had to put up a fight any way that I could.

  We were supposed to rely on our own magic, our own prowess. Well, I had, but now there was a resource I couldn’t ignore, one that might somehow give me a chance in this after all. It was either forfeit now or bend the rules an
d hope the judges overlooked my decision. I chose the latter.

  I grabbed the wrought iron handle, ready to throw open the door…

  Ray’s hand shot out behind me, snatching my injured shoulder and yanking me backward so that I was sent sprawling into the grass behind. This time when I fell I didn’t land the way I was supposed to.

  I fell on my outstretched arm. There was a sickening snap.

  Turning my head, I saw the odd angle of my left wrist. I didn’t need a knowledge of Restoration to understand that it was broken.

  “You know you’re not supposed to enter the armory,” Ray panted. He was shaking. The last couple of castings had cost him dearly. I wasn’t the only one running out of stamina.

  “Surrender, Ryiah. You’ve got nothing left.” His eyes held pity. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”

  He was giving me a chance, I realized. Ray didn’t want to hurt me more than he had to, but he would should I continue to stand between him and an apprenticeship.

  Using my right arm to push myself off the ground, I gritted my teeth and stood. The shoulder pain was excruciating, and my surroundings were becoming blurred.

  Ray let me stand, but after a couple seconds of silence he became impatient. Drawing his sword, he regarded me grimly. “Surrender now, Ryiah, or I’ll have no choice but to make you.” He took a step forward, pressing the blade of his sword just above my collarbone, into the deep wound on my right shoulder.

  The pressure of metal against swollen flesh and bone was so overpowering that tears streamed down my face involuntarily. My stomach roared in anguish.

  I tried furiously to conjure a sword, a shield, any sort of defense to put between myself and the blade at my shoulder, but I came up empty-handed.

  Ray pushed down with his blade.

  The agony in my head was so terrible that I could no longer discern anything except the pain and the heavy breathing of my opponent.

  This was it. This was how I would be remembered: just another first-year that had tried. I’d done well, but not well enough.

  No!

  The thought came raging through me as Ray increased the weight of his cut. There was nothing I could do about the pain. He had me there. He had me trapped, defenseless… the perfect ending to a perfect victory.

  But there was one thing Ray could not plan for, one glimpse at hope he might not have suspected in his careful approach. It was dangerous, and until today I had never bothered to consider it… but now. I had nothing left to lose.

  I threw myself onto Ray’s sword, letting its metal pierce my wound as the blade severed and cut, tearing down, down, deep into flesh. My vision went black, and I fell forward, shrieking and dragging Ray down with me as I threw out my magic in earnest.

  Somewhere in the midst of my shouting and Ray’s own startled cry, the harsh booming of what sounded like thunder entered my awareness. I was barely able to register the bone-shattering blast before something heavy collided with my skull, and I lost all semblance of consciousness.

  “Do you think she ‘ll wake?”

  “I don’t know, she’s been through a lot…”

  “I can’t believe Ryiah! She almost killed the both of them!”

  “Master Barclae and the judges are furious… “

  “Did you see the look on the king’s face? She just cost the Academy thousands with that stunt!”

  Slowly, I became aware of the voices surrounding me, and I opened my eyes to find Ella, Alex, and the rest of my family standing next to my bedside in what appeared to be the healing ward. Two mages in the red robes of Restoration were frowning. I was immediately filled with a hundred questions.

  I tried to sit up, only to gasp and clutch my ribs as the immediate pain sent me doubling over in agony.

  “She’s awake!” Derrick cried, and suddenly all eyes turned to me.

  I tried to shift more comfortably and groaned. There was an almost unbearable throbbing in my shoulder. Every muscle ached. My left arm stung as if someone had hammered it repeatedly with a red-hot mallet.

  “W-what happened?” I croaked. My mouth was like sand.

  My mother handed me a glass brimming with water and motioned for me to drink.

  “Ryiah, dear, when you impaled yourself on that boy’s sword, your casting collapsed the entire structure you two were struggling beneath.”

  Derrick bounced from one foot to the next. “You destroyed the armory!”

  “You sent the entire building crumbling when you lunged at Ray, Ryiah. The whole structure fell, toppling both of you,” Ella told me.

  “You almost killed yourself!” Alex interrupted, eyes flashing dangerously. “All so that you could take Ray down with you!”

  “Barclae is beside himself.” Ella paused. “So is everyone else. That area was off limits, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

  I bit my lip, avoiding everyone’s furious gaze. “I was going to lose,” I said softly. “I had no stamina left…I-I knew pain was an unpredictable way to call on magic, but I thought maybe its casting would be enough to disarm him. I didn’t realize it would bring down the entire armory.”

  “I don’t know whether you are a genius or the biggest fool I’ve ever known.” That was Alex.

  I started to laugh, and then quickly stopped as my ribs shook painfully. “At least I won,” I choked.

  Silence.

  And then: “But you didn’t.”

  I glanced up at my friend, but Ella refused to meet my eyes.

  “Ryiah, you lost,” my mother said, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

  My heart stopped. “How?” I rasped.

  “The entire building fell. All of us thought you were dead.” Ella swallowed. “But right as the judges and Master Barclae reached the scene, Ray appeared, dragging you out of the rubble.” She swallowed, “He managed to survive your attack using some sort of defensive sphere. He saved you too... if it weren’t for Ray, Ryiah, I don’t think you would be alive right now. Even Restoration has its limits.”

  And that was it.

  My world came crashing down around me as I realized what my friend was saying. Not only had I broken the tourney rules and destroyed a valuable building, I had almost killed the both of us. The pain had made my magic spiral out of control. If I had succeeded, the two of us would have died from its impact. But, my opponent, my noble opponent, had saved the both of us.

  Ray had won.

  I had lost.

  And I had managed to do so in such appalling fashion that nobility would be talking about it for years to come. The Colored Robes and Master Barclae would remember me. That was for certain. Not as an apprentice, a girl of much talent, but as a first-year that almost killed herself and her opponent in the world’s most foolhardy attempt. Why couldn’t I have just lost with dignity?

  Ray had given me an out. I should have taken it.

  While a lost match wasn’t ground for disqualification, the last first-year to secure an apprenticeship with one had attended the school more than a decade ago. And in my case, with the stunts that I had pulled, it was pretty clear what my outcome would be.

  Later that same evening, after the rest of my family had retired, Ella told me the results for the rest of the Combat trials. Ray and I had lasted the longest—fifty minutes while everyone else had barely used up a half-hour. Priscilla had won her match with the same strategy she’d used to beat me in the mid-year duels, and Clayton had lost tragically to Darren within the first fifteen minutes. “Clay didn’t have a chance,” she noted dryly, “and when Darren won…Well, let’s just say that the judges themselves took to a standing ovation.”

  A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach as I picked at the food Ella had brought in from the dining hall. I was on orders to spend the entire night in the infirmary, and while I wasn’t happy, there wasn’t much I could do about it. The one time I had tried to stand, I had spent the next hour puking into a bucket. I was not ready to repeat the experience.

  I had
only myself to thank for the pain I was in right now.

  “Master Barclae announced the order of the second trials,” Ella began. I continued to push peas around my plate, listening. “Ryiah…you and Clayton and half the others will be going tomorrow.”

  My grip on the fork tightened, creating red indents in my palm. I stared up at my friend in horror. “Tomorrow? Shouldn’t Alchemy and Restoration go first? They’ve had more days to rest!”

  “It was a random drawing.” Ella’s expression was sympathetic.

  “Combat has the most students so some had to go tomorrow.”

  I set my plate to the side. “I should just leave,” I said abruptly. “It doesn’t matter how I fare tomorrow. They will never let someone like me get a robe after what happened today.”

  She looked away, patting my arm.

  “You can’t tell me I’ve got a chance,” I added.

  Ella forced herself to meet my eyes. “There has never been a doctrine stating you had to win the tourney to earn a place.”

  “How many have been apprenticed after losing a match?” I challenged bitterly.

  She didn’t answer. We both knew the truth.

  The next morning I awoke feeling resigned as I slowly lowered myself from the cot and dressed for the day’s events. My body had healed miraculously overnight, thanks to the potent draughts and restorative touch of Restoration. Those healers knew what they were doing. I might be miserable inside, but on the outside it was as if I had never been injured at all.

  I could have left the Academy that day. I could have packed my bags and waited out the rest of my twin’s trials as a spectator.

  I could have, but I was too proud. Ella was right. Whether I was willing to admit it or not, I had given my life for the chance to be a part of this place. Every waking dream of childhood, every hope I had ever held —they had all centered on becoming a mage. I could not leave my dream behind without completing this one final test.

  I would stay for the ceremony, too. I would watch as Darren, Eve, and the others received something I had not been fit to earn. I would stay so that I could close this final chapter and leave my foolish aspirations behind.