Voice of Command (The Spoken Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  I said nothing, and he seemed to think I needed convincing.

  “Besides, we need that shield. And not just to prevent you destroying the Academy. If we’re really going to keep this a secret, we need it to shield all the flashes of power we’ll be using.”

  “Fine,” I said. “The arena. Tomorrow night. I’ll be there.”

  I turned to leave and then paused.

  “Why are you doing this, Lucas? Why are you helping me?”

  A crease appeared between his brows. “Elena, I know you think—” He broke off, apparently rethinking his words.

  “Training you might be a political danger no one else can afford. At least not right now. But you have so much potential. Your ability…” He shook his head. “You might save us all. And I, for one, don’t like to see any potential advantage squandered.”

  “Because we’re in a war. One we don’t seem able to win.”

  His eyes met mine, and their intense gaze seemed to be trying to communicate something I couldn’t quite understand.

  “Among other things.”

  When I slipped into bed minutes later, I had a lot to think about. But foremost of them was hope. Maybe I could learn to hold my own in combat, after all. And if I could do that, maybe I truly did deserve a place among the mages. And maybe I actually had some chance of surviving my three years of conscription, whatever they might bring.

  The next night I called good night to my friends and entered my room, feeling like a fraud. The minutes stretched endlessly, and my attempts to study turned into pacing instead. But finally the time arrived.

  I slipped carefully back into the corridor, looking around for any sign of other movement. All was quiet. No doubt the rest of the Academy were fast asleep—the far more sensible thing for me to be as well.

  But I didn’t hesitate as I hurried down the stairs and quietly exited through the front doors. The walk through the gardens and training yards felt long, and I kept twitching at shadows. Several times I glanced back at the blank windows of the square Academy building. Was anyone gazing out into the night? And, if so, could they see me?

  But no one else appeared, and no shout sounded to call me to account. At last I stood inside the arena. For a moment I thought I was alone and wondered if this was all some elaborate prank. But then a shadowy figure rose from the stands, and Lucas crossed the floor of the arena to join me.

  “You came.” His eyes were shadowed in the darkness.

  “So did you.”

  He pulled two pieces of parchment from his robe and held them out to me. I took them but kept my eyes on him. He gestured for me to read them, and I angled them to catch the moonlight.

  Both appeared to be compositions for calling a brief spot fire to a particular location that would be indicated by a pointing finger. But one took up half a page, and the second one only two lines, leaving out many of the specifications of the first one.

  “You’ll need to get yours even shorter than that.” He pointed to the two-liner. “Especially given the need for the binding words as well. But it gives the idea. Go on and release them both. One at a time.”

  When I hesitated, he prodded me again, so I shrugged and tore the long one, pointing at a small clump of grass some way away from us. A bright light split the night as flames erupted on the spot. They burned without fuel for a full minute and then winked back out of existence.

  “And now the other one,” he said.

  I ripped the remaining parchment and pointed again at the same spot, now a charred piece of dirt. The same light filled the space around us as identical looking flames winked into being, burned merrily, and then disappeared again.

  I handed back the four half-sheets, and he stuffed them back into his robe.

  “Did you notice any difference between them?”

  I shook my head. “No, they seemed to last the same amount of time and burn to the same height.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. The limitations and restrictions were there in both, I just had to describe them less fully. That’s the basic idea behind shortening your compositions. Rather than using a large number of specific words, you shape the power within a smaller number of words as you’re composing. It’s all about the way you form and channel the power as you send it through the words.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “This is harder to describe than I thought.” He grimaced apologetically. “I’ve never tried to teach anyone before.”

  “No, I think I know what you mean.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “It sounds hard, though.”

  When he gave me a challenging look, I shrugged defensively. “I don’t mean that I thought it was going to be easy. But it’s one thing for you to work on shaping the power while you’re calmly sitting at a desk, slowly writing out some words. But I have to visualize the words, speak them at regular speed—or faster if I’m in the arena—and shape the limits of the power all at the same time. While also potentially fighting someone with a sword and possibly dodging fire balls. Or some such.”

  “Fire balls?” He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve seen that from any of our year mates.”

  “Sheet of fire, fire balls, it’s all the same to me. Dodge or get burned.”

  He nodded slowly. “In all seriousness, you’re right, of course. It is harder for you. But that’s why we’re here now. So you can practice slowly. Without swords. Or fire—in any format. You’re going to need to be able to do it without much thinking. We should probably pick a couple of useful compositions and start on those. Even if you can only hone a small handful, that will make a difference in your bouts.”

  I sighed. “Like you said, I’m going to need to get them down much shorter even than your example.”

  “I know. So let’s get working.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to give up now?”

  I stiffened. “Never. I’m ready when you are.”

  A smile spread across his face. “And there she is,” he whispered, almost too quietly for me to hear.

  Chapter 9

  Despite my motivation, I couldn’t train for half the night every night. And despite his superior attitude, neither could Lucas. We still needed sleep.

  We fell into the pattern of meeting every third night, the weather surprisingly staying warm enough to allow our night time exertions, despite winter creeping in on us. In the meantime I still got flattened in my bouts, but I no longer felt so dejected about it. Slowly I was getting better, and soon I hoped to be able to hold my own.

  Lucas was a good teacher, and once when I made a breakthrough—building an unspoken limitation into my shield—I almost forgot myself and embraced him. But at the last second I remembered and saved myself the embarrassment of his rejection.

  Sometimes, particularly when his eyes lit up with excitement and victory at some mark of our progress, it was hard to remember he was doing this to help Ardann, not me.

  But outside of our training I had reminders of what might be motivating him. Rumors had begun to filter into the Academy, and every time I saw concerned faces and pinched expressions on huddled groups of trainees, it helped remind me. There was a war going on.

  Of course, there was always a war going on. It had been slowly burning along the border regions for almost twice my lifetime. But this felt different. Something was changing.

  My brother Jasper dropped in to see me early one rest morning, his face pale and drawn.

  “What is it?” I asked, scrambling from my bed.

  “It’s Torkan. He’s been killed.”

  I sank back down onto my mattress. “But he had less than a year left to serve,” I whispered.

  “I guess the Kallorwegian who speared him through didn’t know about that,” Jasper replied harshly, before rubbing a hand across his wet eyes.

  I swallowed and tried to take in the news. Torkan had been Jasper’s best friend back in their days at the Kingslee school. And even when they had finished there at age ten, they had remained friends. Torkan had always joked about what an unl
ikely pair they made—the scholar and the soldier. He was the second of only two sons, with four much younger sisters, so he had known he would need to conscript ever since his older brother won a valuable apprenticeship at age twelve.

  He had spent so many years training—with the same dogged persistence my brother had always shown at his own studies—that I had fallen into the habit of thinking that he was sure to survive his term in the Armed Forces.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasper said after a long silence. “I didn’t mean…”

  I shook my head and moved forward to embrace him. “I know. I just can’t believe…” We fell silent again.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jasper swallowed, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I’m walking home. I should be going now in fact. They’ve sent back his ashes, and his family mean to hold the ceremony today. I want to be there.”

  “But…” I hesitated, trying to think how to say it. “You’ll be back?”

  “Of course. Life must go on, right?” He ground out a humorless laugh.

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  He shook his head quickly. “I’ll be moving fast, and there’s no reason for you to exhaust yourself.” He paused, and I could see him weighing up whether he should say what was on his mind.

  “Just say it,” I said softly.

  “Clemmy has been healed now. And she’s young. She has time to train. Have you considered…”

  I shook my head before he could finish speaking.

  “No. Nothing has changed. Clemmy might be healed, but she’s never going to be big. She’s never going to be a soldier.”

  Jasper eyed my own short frame and raised an eyebrow.

  “But you’re forgetting. I have other ways to defend myself now.”

  A ghost of relief crossed his face. “You’ve been preparing? I didn’t like to ask…”

  I nodded. “As much as I can. Every day.”

  He pressed his lips together. “And they’ll let you go? Let you enlist?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t intend to ask permission.”

  For a moment we stood, eyes locked, a weight of understanding and history hanging between us, not needing to be spoken. And then he wrapped me in another embrace and was gone.

  I couldn’t concentrate for a full week after that, until Lucas finally snapped, and sent a fire ball at my head in training. I reacted on instinct, calling up a shield to deflect it. I spoke only a single limitation, as we had been working on, instructing it to fizzle out of existence as soon as the threat had passed. But as I pictured and spoke the word shield, my mind overlaid it with the phrase I had used in the past to limit my shield to a small flat sheet.

  It took less time than having to speak all the words, and when the shield appeared, it was small and flat rather than a complete bubble. My first true success in days.

  I put my hands on my hips. “A fire ball? Really?”

  Lucas winked at me. “I’ve been saving that one for the right moment.”

  “Did you just wink at me?”

  “No. Princes don’t wink.”

  He winked again, and I raised an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something when I wasn’t looking?”

  The humor dropped from his face. “I’m just glad to see you back.” He hesitated. “What happened?”

  I turned away slightly, a lump rising in my throat. For a second I considered not answering, but then I couldn’t hold it back.

  “I found out a friend was killed. On the front lines. He had nearly served his three years, too.”

  “Oh.” For a moment neither of us spoke. “Was he…a special friend?”

  My eyes flew to his, but Lucas had also turned slightly, placing his face into shadow.

  “He was my brother’s best friend. And yes, he was special.”

  Something changed in Lucas’s posture, and honesty compelled me to add, “But not special like that. Not that it makes a difference. He didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t.”

  The grief poked at my anger, and I stepped toward him. “And he was one of the more prepared ones. Not that you lot did anything to help him. He trained himself. And he still died. Many of those conscripted are far less capable.”

  “Us lot?” Lucas shook his head. “Do you mean mages or royals?”

  “I don’t know. Both?” I gestured around us at the dark and deserted arena. “Mages—already born with every advantage—are trained exhaustively for four years before being sent to the front lines. And then they only have to serve for two years. If Torkan’s term had been two years, he would be safely home by now.”

  “New recruits receive training,” said Lucas. “Every new soldier goes through basic training.”

  I stepped closer again, pointing accusingly at him. “Yes. Basic is right. It’s what? Two weeks? A month?” I took another step. “Jasper went home for Torkan’s ashes ceremony. He heard what happened. He was trying to protect two new recruits. Eighteen-year-olds fresh from this so-called training. Small, unprepared. Neither of them had been expecting their conscription, apparently. All three of them died.”

  I was close enough now to see a wince cross his face despite the shadow. He made no defense, but neither did he offer any sympathy. We just stood there in silence, my chest heaving as I tried to control my breathing.

  His eyes fastened on my face, and this time he was the one to step forward. We were far too close now, but I didn’t step away, not willing to be the one to draw back.

  “Elena.” My name was half breath, half word, and his eyes dropped to my lips.

  My breathing, which had slowly begun to calm, hitched again. He swayed toward me, and for a moment I couldn’t see anything but his eyes.

  But then Torkan’s face rose in my mind, and I stepped hurriedly back.

  “Good people are dying, Lucas. And what is your family doing about it?”

  His head snapped up, and I thought I saw a faint flush on his face, although the darkness made it hard to be sure. He stepped back as well, and his arms swept up and around in a broad gesture.

  “Everything we can. We want this war to end, too, you know.”

  For a second my eyes followed his waving hands in confusion, and then I remembered. Me. I was what he was doing. Honing my skills for combat. Seeing what could be gleaned from my new ability. Seeing what new capabilities could be learned and fed into the war effort. I drew even further back.

  “I’m done.”

  I turned and strode away, but his quiet voice sounded clearly through the night.

  “For tonight? Or in general?”

  I didn’t slow. “I don’t know.”

  The next morning I carefully avoided looking in the prince’s direction as I slid into my usual chair for breakfast. But one look at Coralie’s tear-streaked face drove all thought of Lucas from my mind.

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Finnian answered for her, he and Saffron looking grim, although their own eyes were dry.

  “We were right about an outbreak in Jocasta’s hometown. And the healers haven’t been able to contain it. It’s reached Abalene.”

  “Oh no.” I put my hand up to cover my mouth. Abalene was a large city. An outbreak there would spread quickly.

  “It’s green fever. They’re using the word epidemic,” said Saffron quietly.

  I swallowed. Abalene was far to the south of Kingslee and Corrin, but such a disaster touched everyone. And Coralie’s family lived in Abalene. Although I could only imagine mage families had ways to protect themselves from epidemics that commonborn did not.

  I was still absorbing the news when the meal finished. Lorcan appeared in the dining hall before anyone could leave, and a hiss of whispers spread across the trainees. I tried to remember if I’d ever seen him at a meal before.

  “Second years, please remain. The rest of you can continue to class as usual.”

  The first, third, and fourth years filed out, their curious ga
zes jumping between Lorcan and the twelve of us. But one glance at my year mates was enough to see none of them had any more idea what was going on than me.

  Except possibly for Lucas. It was hard to tell with him since his face was generally impassive, and I didn’t let my eyes linger to look for any signs of greater knowledge.

  When only the twelve of us remained, Lorcan crossed over to stand closer to where we all sat in the second row of tables.

  “As you have no doubt heard by now, the healers have declared an epidemic in southern Ardann. Your year is in a somewhat unusual situation, as not only are you particularly few in number, but you have all signed up to study the healing discipline this year. Given these factors, your instructors feel that this will be a valuable teaching exercise for you.”

  I could see my own disbelief mirrored on Coralie’s face. Teaching exercise? Were they seriously referring to an epidemic as a teaching exercise?

  “With that end in mind, you will temporarily suspend your other studies and travel down to Abalene to observe how the healers manage the situation.”

  “Excuse me?” From her voice, Natalya shared our disbelief, although I suspected it was for different reasons. “You want us to travel into an epidemic region?” Her eyes scanned the tables. “Even Calix and me? Even Lucas?”

  Lorcan’s eyes hardened. “All second year trainees are expected to participate. You can consider it required coursework if you wish to pass second year.”

  Natalya gaped at him.

  His gaze swept over the rest of us. “Any further objections?” No one said anything. Everyone knew the price of failing the Academy.

  “Our parents will have something to say about this,” muttered Natalya, obviously intending her words to be too low for Lorcan to hear. She misjudged, however.

  He sighed. “You may relax, Natalya. No trainee will be in any danger. As well as our own Academy healer, Acacia, you will be traveling with two healers—including one senior healer. Between the three of them, they will travel with enough healing compositions to deal with the first hint of sickness that might arise in any of you. They have been given clear instructions that these compositions are not to be used for any other purpose.”