Voice of Command (The Spoken Mage Book 2)

by Melanie Cellier

  I nodded my thanks to her, somewhat relieved as I progressed to check the next patient.

  We didn’t make it through every purple-marked sufferer that day, but the vast majority had been healed and sent home by sunset. The others would have to wait for the arrival of more compositions. I had been sorely tempted to heal them all myself, but Beatrice had expressly forbidden me from any more healings for the day, and I didn’t want to be locked up in the campus for disobeying. I could tell from the way my head spun that she was right, too. I was reaching my limits.

  The nurses had assisted by sorting the patients, so that those with purple dots who would have to wait for healings, had time left in the first stage to do so. And the empty beds of those already gone beamed back at us like a victory.

  I just wished those with the ability to survive didn’t have to suffer through the remainder of their illness. But there was no other way. How quickly the patients’ hopes had changed from wishing to be one of those able to survive, to wishing to be one marked for death, with the surety of first stage healing that now provided.

  Acacia greeted us on our return with the firm instruction that we were all three to take a rest day the next day, whether we wished to or no. I spent at least half of it in bed.

  When I passed Lucas in the corridor in the afternoon, I nearly looked the other way. But at the last second I remembered, and nodded to him instead. He stopped and gave me a long, level look.

  “There are rumors spreading about you. And no doubt they’ll grow to include things that can’t possibly be true.”

  I had learned enough to read the warning in his eyes. I was too unique. I had been served best so far by secrets and silence and not drawing attention to myself.

  I grimaced but then shrugged. “Unfortunate. But it was worth it. So many lives are going to be saved, Lucas.”

  He sighed. “Yes. I thought you would say that.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, I resumed my progress down the hall, but I only made it several steps before he called softly after me.

  “Congratulations, Elena. You’ve done incredible work here.”

  I paused mid-stride. “Thank you.” I continued on without turning. I didn’t want him to see the flush of pleasure on my face.

  But the next day, when I visited the tents again with Beatrice and Reese, all color drained away. I looked around at the overflowing space, every cot full and some sitting in the aisles.

  “I don’t understand. I thought we were getting on top of it.”

  “We are.” Beatrice was still smiling. “This was to be expected.”

  I frowned at her, but a nearby nurse nodded at us both.

  “Word’s getting out. All those holed up in their houses are coming to be tested. It’s a good thing. Because we still can’t do anything for them if they don’t come in until the second stage.”

  It was still hard not to be discouraged to see the tents overflowing again, but the mood was soon raised significantly by the piece of news we had been waiting for. All seven of our first batch of test subjects had recovered—or very nearly—from the second stage of the fever. The test had been a success.

  I returned to my year mates after that. The work in Abalene was far from over—new cases needed to be tested, purple dots needed to be healed, and green dots needed to be nursed through days of hideous illness. But the test had changed the balance. The healers could now control the infection instead of drowning helplessly. It was easy now to see why Beatrice had been commanded not to use her considerable skill and strength on healings. It had taken a long time, but her efforts had been better spent on the test.

  A week after that, Acacia announced our return to Corrin. We had learned all we could from the epidemic, and they no longer needed our help, either. It was time to return to our regular training at the Academy.

  Driving back into the Academy courtyard felt both familiar and strange. The sense of homecoming hit me more strongly than I had expected, and yet at the same time there was a strangeness in re-entering ordinary life after being so immersed in the bubble of Abalene and the epidemic. While we had been there, the rest of the kingdom had faded away. Now I suddenly remembered that it had continued to roll on without us.

  We arrived in time for the evening meal and said goodbye to the University students before heading straight into the dining hall. I usually had so little interaction with the trainees from other years that I was halfway through my plate of food before it sank in that something felt different.

  I looked around at the other three rows of tables, but the numbers seemed about right. I looked at the others at my own table and saw a crease between Finnian’s brow, and Saffron’s attention focused on something at a fourth year table.

  “Is something going on?” I asked. “It feels…different.”

  We had been away for a while, I knew, but the tense atmosphere definitely hadn’t been present when we left. The low buzz of voices sounded different, too, and a sudden raised voice from the far row of tables only confirmed it. The tone sounded angry, although I didn’t catch the exact words, and one of the trainees from that row got up and left the room in tears, two more trailing after her.

  I glanced down my own row and noticed a significant absence.

  “Lucas isn’t here,” I added. “It looks like he never came in from the carriages.”

  Finnian stood up. “I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

  He wove between the tables, heading for the fourth year row, and we all twisted in our seats to watch him. A third year hailed him before he reached his destination, however, and he stopped to talk to him. As the third year spoke, Finnian’s face hardened and tightened. He looked almost…angry. Far from his usual good humor.

  The third year made a final comment, and Finnian’s face changed. Was that grief? Coralie, Saffron, and I exchanged worried looks.

  Slowly Finnian made his way back to our table. He had reached us, but not sat down, when Calix approached us.

  “What’s going on, Finnian?” he asked. “Lucas got called away before he even made it into the building. Something’s happened, that’s for sure.”

  Everyone at our table—which now included both Araminta and Clarence—had fixed their full attention on Finnian, obviously eager to hear the answer. And from further down the row, the rest of Calix’s group watched as well, despite being too far away to catch any words.

  Finnian shook his head. “It’s not good. Word only reached the capital this afternoon, apparently. Kallorway launched a big offensive at the border, a surprise attack overnight.”

  Calix fell back a step, more shaken than I had ever seen him. “Don’t tell me they managed to push through?”

  Finnian shook his head. “Not that, thank goodness. Our troops managed to hold them off. Just. But it came as a total surprise, and several units were taken unawares. We’ve had losses. Heavy ones.”

  I bunched my hands into fists, thinking of Torkan and all the ashes ceremonies to come for other families, but Finnian wasn’t finished.

  “They lost five of the most recent graduates.”

  Saffron gasped. “Five? In one day?” Her lip trembled, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Who?”

  Finnian listed off five names I didn’t recognize, as I belatedly realized he meant Academy graduates. Five young mages had been killed.

  Saffron gave a small shriek at the last name on the list and burst into actual tears.

  “I’m sorry, Saffron.” Finnian sat back down and put his arm around her shoulders. She turned her face into him, hiding her continued tears.

  Glancing over at Coralie and me, Finnian’s face looked pulled and tight. “A Callinos. A first cousin of Saffron’s. They were close as children.”

  “Oh, Saffron! I’m so sorry.” Coralie looked over at me, and I shrugged slightly, equally helpless. There was nothing we could do and nothing we could say to make something like this better.

  Calix had already disappeared, taking the news back to
his own table, and I soon heard cries of outrage from them as well. Dariela stood up abruptly and strode from the room, although I could see no sign of tears. I wondered if one of the other names had been an Ellington.

  I looked around the room again. It was easier to identify the underlying emotions now. Some looked almost numb, eating quietly, while others talked energetically with those beside them. For these people, anger seemed to dominate. I could only imagine they were cursing Kallorway and planning all sorts of counter-attacks and revenge.

  And it was no wonder the fourth years looked the most shocked. Not only had they been closest in age to those who had been lost—most of them likely knew each other and had probably been friends—but they also faced joining their number in less than a year.

  I shook my head. All I saw was death. Everywhere I looked. First in Abalene, now at the front lines. And while the room full of mages mourned the five of their number who had been lost, I sat in silence and mourned alone for all the nameless commonborn who had died beside them.

  Chapter 16

  Speculation about further offensives and counter-offensives gripped the Academy for at least a week. Lucas showed up at breakfast the next morning, but he wasn’t answering any questions about the front lines.

  At least that was what I heard. I didn’t approach him myself. Abalene already seemed far away and distant.

  I had half-expected Thornton to put our arena bouts on hold—surely our simulated battles were too close to home for the current rawness of grief. But instead the opposite happened.

  Thornton was gripped with an intense focus—although he seemed neither grieved nor angry—doubling our bouts in our first week back. The other year levels were apparently being put through the same thing, rushed through their bouts so that twice as many could be crammed into each day.

  And yet, despite that, my name wasn’t called. When I commented on it to my friends, a shadow crossed Finnian’s face.

  “It seems even the instructors have lost interest in harassing you in the face of a real threat. I’m sorry to say that dueling you isn’t much practice for anyone, Elena.”

  “A real threat?” I glanced between him and Coralie. Saffron trailed several steps behind us, withdrawn as she had been ever since the news. “The Kallorwegians haven’t made it past the border, have they?”

  “No, it sounds like things have been quiet since the big attack. I don’t mean an imminent threat, exactly. More of a reminder, perhaps. Thornton is angry, and he’s working twice as hard because of it.” He grimaced. “Or rather, we are.”

  “Angry? Is that him angry? I couldn’t tell.”

  “He takes every loss at the front lines personally,” said Finnian.

  Every mage loss, you mean, I interjected in my head, but I didn’t interrupt aloud.

  “He trains us to survive, and for some of the graduates at least, his training wasn’t enough. Now he’s angry and worried. He’s training us harder—doing the only thing he can to try to prevent further deaths.”

  “There are some situations no amount of training can get you out of,” said Coralie quietly.

  Finnian grimaced. “Try telling that to Thornton.”

  “It does seem strange,” I said, dropping my voice. “That they were able to keep such a large offensive a secret. Did we really have no warning?”

  “None apparently.” Finnian eyed me thoughtfully.

  “But surely we have warning systems in place. Spies, compositions…” I frowned as I tried to remember what I had so far learned in my armed forces studies. “I’m sure we do.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Finnian. “But so do they. And ways around our detection systems, apparently. General Griffith will be scrambling to get new ones in place, no doubt.”

  “No doubt,” I murmured and let it drop, but I couldn’t help wondering. How had they done it?

  The ashes ceremonies for the killed mages happened gradually over the space of the following week, and the dining hall looked half-empty for much of that time as trainees attended the ceremonies of those mages they had personally known.

  With the ceremonies completed, and as the days passed without any further news of a continued push from Kallorway, life at the Academy slowly drifted back toward normal. I still sometimes passed trainees crying in odd places, and Thornton continued to work the senior students twice as hard, but otherwise classes resumed their usual rhythm.

  Since we had spent the time in Abalene focused entirely on our healing studies, the second years were excused for a time from the healing assignments in discipline studies and instead all focused on our second area of study—making up for lost time and missed essays. When we were given an individual choice assignment for armed forces, I chose attack detection methods, and challenged myself to think of ways that Kallorway might have circumvented them.

  And while I no longer snuck out to the arena to train with Lucas, I continued to work in the privacy of my room using much simpler compositions. It was a far cry from a true attack situation, but I still made progress, especially after my breakthrough while working with Beatrice.

  Since I could safely practice a shield in even a confined space, I focused on perfecting my shielding composition in particular.

  By the time spring set in, I could bring it into life with only the binding words and the phrase, “Shield me with limits.” And after a great deal of practice, I could overlay a whole variety of limitations to the words “with limits” without having to slow myself down with too much thought. Each one—or any combination—came almost as naturally as any other. It was necessary preparation since speed was my goal.

  Soon I could choose to pour most of my power into my shield to allow it to withstand almost any attack, or limit it to a single powerful blast—after which it would collapse—or even give it just enough strength to last through a sustained assault with smaller force. That one was the most fun to practice, since I had to simultaneously compose a hailstorm of rocks to rain down on me while I monitored how long the shield lasted.

  And, inevitably, the day came when Thornton once again called on me in the arena. Whether his frenzied need to train the others harder had dimmed somewhat, or whether Lorcan had intervened, I didn’t know. But I was ready to test myself in a bout again.

  Of course, I wouldn’t have chosen Weston as my first partner, but I was hardly surprised at Thornton’s choice.

  Coralie winced when my name was called, but I gave her an encouraging smile. I hadn’t spoken to my friends of my private training—a leftover legacy of secrecy from my training sessions with Lucas—so she didn’t know that I actually welcomed this opportunity. Better to practice here against my fellow trainees—however much they disliked me—than to wait to be tested against the Kallorwegians.

  Because I hadn’t forgotten what spring meant. Soon I would turn eighteen. A day I had long both dreaded and hoped for. Much to my surprise, I had come to like my life at the Academy, and I was in no hurry to see it end. But I also knew that as soon as my mark hit that enlistment roll, Clemmy was free. And every day that passed before then was a day that something could happen to prevent me enlisting.

  As I walked down through the seating to the arena floor, my eyes caught on Lucas. He gave me a small nod and even smaller smile, and I felt my back straighten. I might not be able to win this bout, but I would not be utterly crushed as I had been in the past. I was determined.

  I faced Weston, my sword gripped in my hand, and my body already tense and alert. He, on the other hand, looked relaxed and confident. My best strategy was to move fast and take him off guard. He was better than me with a sword, but if I attacked strongly enough, it might keep him occupied long enough for me to rush off a composition.

  As I looked at his smug face, I decided on a rain of rocks. I had perfected the composition while testing my shield, and I knew none of them were big enough to kill or even do serious damage. I had taken one to the head often enough when my shield gave way—thus giving me the opportunity to pr
actice my healing compositions as well.

  I was allowed to use three compositions, so if I kept the shield one in reserve, that would still leave me one more to try to strike a winning blow. Hopefully the rocks would keep him occupied long enough for me to manage the perfect one.

  But as soon as Thornton called for a start to the bout, my plan began to go wrong. I lunged rapidly, but Weston easily blocked, his own initial composition somehow appearing in his hand as he did so. I rushed out the words to mine, and the first rock hit him, but he had already ripped his.

  I had no time to compose a shield, even with my new finesse, so I was thrown to the side by a large buffet of wind. I had barely regained my footing when a crack gave me just enough warning to throw myself back down as a streak of lightning tore through where I had been standing half a breath before.

  From the ground, I saw Weston dodge my rocks. He looked surprised that I had managed to complete a composition at all, but when he took two steps to the side, the rocks didn’t follow, continuing to rain down on the spot where he had been standing, uselessly draining my energy.

  I mentally kicked myself. In my rush I had failed to modify the parameters of the composition to attach to him rather than remain stationary. It hadn’t been an issue in my training.

  Smiling again, Weston pulled out a second parchment. I didn’t wait to see what this one would unleash, already stumbling over the binding words.

  “Shieldmewithlimits.Endbinding,” I rushed out, hoping I spoke clearly enough.

  As a rush of unknown power surged toward me from Weston, a shield of my own energy sprung up around me. Whatever it had been, the attack bounced harmlessly off it, and Weston’s eyes widened, his smile dropping away.

  I let myself remain on the ground, taking a few moments to breathe and consider my next move. Without knowing what attack was coming, I had put only broad limitations on the shield and, on top of that, my rocks continued to rain uselessly down, another drain of my strength. If I spoke a new composition to stop them, I would have used up my three. I needed to do something—but I needed to do it quickly.