by Taki Drake
Corda snorted, saying dismissively as she walked over to the sink to brush her teeth, “I can’t stop them from saying nasty things, but I can be your friend. It is hard to make fun of or bully people that are together. Part of what a bully does is make you think that you are all alone and that no one cares.”
Smiling, the other girl held her right hand out, saying, “I am Argah Bertson d'Val, and I would be honored to have you as a friend. I am on the Artist Discipline track, classified as an Illusionist. From your manner, I would guess you are either a Healer or something like that.”
The younger girl laughed and admitted that Argah was correct. Corda watched in appreciation as the older girl quickly finished her morning preparations and donned the rest of her garments. It didn’t take the 13-year-old much time to finish hers either, making the interval pass even faster as the two girls exchanged facts about their lives.
As quickly as they had washed up and got dressed, they managed to get all the way out of the bathroom area and into the common floor area before anyone else headed into the bathroom. Watching out of the corner of her eye, Argah lit an expression of distaste show momentarily as she saw someone coming down the hallway toward them. When Corda turned around, she saw that Hera and Joyce were just disappearing into the washroom.
“Corda, be very careful around them. They run around in a group that has two or three more people, and they like to embarrass and hurt anyone they think is weak.”
The younger girl answered soberly, “I already have run into them, but it didn’t go exactly the way they had planned. I will try to be careful, but you need to also be wary.”
Argah threw Corda a grateful smile as she headed back toward her room, and the 13-year-old moved quickly in the opposite direction for the relative safety of her own chamber. It was time to get everything gathered so that she had time for breakfast before classes began.
Even though the young girl's stomach was tense with anticipation, Corda had a feeling that the new life she was stepping into would be exciting. I am so looking forward to learning new things, she thought to herself, I just hope that it won’t be as dangerous as living at home.
Chapter 7 – First Classes
Breakfast sat in Corda’s stomach like a lump, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The young girl was sitting in her first-ever class at the Academy, Introduction to Basic Magic, and she was terrified. What if I don’t even know anything about subjects here? What if everybody else knows what they’re going to be talking about, and I’m the only one who doesn’t? It sounds like all of them have been to other schools while I’ve just been taught at home. The young girl’s mind skittered around like water on a hot griddle, bouncing from one thought to another.
Corda was by herself right now. She had eaten breakfast with Liz, but the older girl had to run an errand before she came to class. The younger girl had obediently placed Liz’s bag in the chair to her left and had even put her backpack on the chair to the right. She didn’t know if she had done it correctly, but that was how Liz had told her that she was supposed to save seats. I hope nobody comes up and yells at me about this, Corda thought to herself.
Before she could work herself into a bigger nervous wreck, Gerald appeared next to her as if conjured and asked, “Is one of those seats for me?”
Corda’s relieved smile made him grin back in response as she pointed to the seat on her right. Her friend carefully removed her backpack from the chair and placed it on the floor between the two spots before plopping down with a noticeable sigh of relief.
“I didn’t see you at breakfast, and I was worried about you. Is everything okay?” Corda asked him.
“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just had to go meet with someone I hope will be a mentor to me while I’m here at the school.”
Corda felt like an absolute idiot. She had no idea what the normal interaction was supposed to be, and she didn’t want to look as frightened as she felt. Her terror eased up a bit as Gerald patted her clasped hands and said, “Stop worrying. You are doing fine.”
Just then, Liz charged down the aisle and slid into her seat, almost landing on top of her book bag. “Oops, that would’ve been painful,” the older girl said as she managed to scoot the bag onto the floor just before she would have landed on it.
Both Gerald and Corda laughed, and the younger girl felt her tenseness ease up even more. For a while, she just listened to her two friends chatter back and forth about the posted bulletin board notices that talked about the elective courses that they could look into. Liz was very interested in several of them and couldn’t seem to make up her mind between some form of art based on sound and another using colorful media.
Gerald said that he hadn’t looked into many of them and was instead going to observe the professors, trying to find someone with whom he could be comfortable. When he turned to Corda and asked her what she thought about it, her response surprised him when she said, “It is tough to learn from someone that you don’t like and don’t respect. And if they’re not a good enough teacher to know how to package the lesson to fit you, then no matter how smart they are, it’s going to be painful.”
Liz was also startled and said in a wondering tone, “For someone so young, it sounds like you thought about that a lot.”
“I have. I’ve learned a lot from someone who wasn’t as knowledgeable as someone else who tried to teach me. The smarter one thought I was an idiot and wouldn’t change the way he was teaching to fit how I learned best. It was not a good experience for either of us. So why have a teacher that won’t adjust to you or can’t teach you what he knows? You won’t learn, and he won’t feel good about teaching. And guess who will get the blame?”
Gerald leaned over about to say something when the sound of closing doors brought everyone to attention. The room was built like an amphitheater, holding many rows on a slope so that everyone could see the lecturer. All over the lecture hall, students stared at the lectern waiting for the professor to appear.
Corda wasn’t one of the people staring at the front of the hall. Instead, the chill at the back of her neck told her that someone was watching from a different location, and her finely-honed sense of survival drew her eyes to her right, stopping at a place against the wall halfway down the steps to the front.
The room was quiet and tense. Even though the young girl could not see anyone against the wall, it was as if there was a magnet pulling her vision there. Her intuition was telling her that that particular spot was one she had to watch. Slowly, so gradually that she almost didn’t recognize the change in what she was seeing, the figure of a man dressed in a dark tunic and pants seem to seep out of the wall to stand slouched against its support.
The man’s arms were folded, and his eyes were partially hooded. Without moving his head, Corda could see his eyes dart around, examining the students with a slight smirk on his face. When his roving eyes met the young girl’s gaze, she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrows jump up, and his eyes widen slightly. The man’s smirk turned into a natural smile for an instant before he straightened and began to walk down the steps toward the lectern.
As he walked, the man began to speak, startling students in waves as he passed, “Good morning class, I am Prof. Turner, your Basic Magic instructor for the semester. I will be taking you through lessons designed to establish your understanding of the nature of Magical energy, as well as the ways that the Mages of Barkin Prime utilize that power.”
There was deafening silence as he reached the podium and positioned himself behind the lectern. The man continued, “This is a required class for the completion of your first-year certification, and should you fail this class, you may repeat the semester a maximum of three additional times. If anyone fails to pass a course for the fourth time, that will be the end of your education here at the Academy.”
Gazing around the room, seeming to stare at everyone individually, the professor then asked, “Are there any questions at this point?”
After a
pause of several seconds without anyone raising a hand, Prof. Turner continued on. The instructor gave them a succinct overview of the semester's curriculum, identifying areas that would be lecture and test, as well as those that would be split out into team efforts or laboratory experiments. He directed them to certain parts of their information packet to provide them with some general guidelines. The professor also told them that after the first three weeks, that all students would be rotated through focus sessions that would familiarize them with the different Disciplines.
This time when he asked if anyone had any questions, a student about a dozen rows from the front raised his hand. When the professor acknowledged him, he stood up and asked, “I could not find any reference to books or scrolls in our material. I thought we were supposed to acquire a textbook so that we could use that with our studying. Did I miss that, or haven’t you come to that yet in our orientation?” the young man asked nervously.
Prof. Turner gave the young man an approving grin and answered, “Excellent question! In fact, it was such a good question that I would like to know your name. Would you please tell me?”
The student responded, “Risee Grediaz, sir.”
The professor laughed and said, “With a last name like that, I would expect that you’re of the Maker Discipline, right?”
The young man’s voice cracked as he answered, “Yes, sir. That is my plan.” Everyone in the room could hear how nervous he was, and Corda caught a few unkind snickers from behind her. How rude, the young girl thought, he at least was brave enough to ask the question.
“Master Grediaz has asked an excellent question. The answer is part of your homework assignment for the next class. Our next session will be two days from now. By that time, you must open the sealed box that you were given at registration. Inside that box, you will find your textbook as well as some other items. I expect you to read the first three chapters in the textbook and identify which of the items apply to the activities that will happen in your first lab exercise.”
The professor looked around the room with a gleeful smile in his face, glints of humor livening up his entire appearance. Corda felt both excited and worried as the man said, “There are a few rules to go with this. First of all, each person must open their own box. Second of all, the boxes are specific to each of you, and there will be no exchange of those containers because we will know what you have done. If that happens, you will have flunked the exercise.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the same girl that had asked a question in basic orientation raised her hand. The professor nodded in acknowledgment and waited for her query. The girl stood, shaking slightly but obviously burning with the need to know as she asked intently, “What happens if we cannot get the box open?”
The professor grinned at her and said mysteriously, “I suggest you not let that happen.”
The room was silent as each of the students thought furiously on what they were going to do. The tone that signaled the end of the class split the air, shocking many of the students. Sound resonated through the room, seeming to increase in volume. Before students could begin to gather their items, Prof. Turner added, “There is one other assignment. I need you to write up exactly where and when you saw me in the room at the beginning of class, what I was doing at that time, and how I looked.”
With that, the professor made a sharp gesture, and the doors to the classroom opened one after another, timed to sound like beats of a drum. Clang, clang, clang, clang.
Chapter 8 – Field Trip Warning
Corda got through her second-class without any additional trauma. The professor that was in charge of the history and society lessons turned out to be an easy-going woman of middle age that reminded Corda of Nanny. She had a calm and relaxed manner, explaining the curriculum and outlining the reading that would be required.
The young girl was pleased that not all of the lessons at the Academy were going to be intimidating. For this class, the professor, whose name was Aris Ryante, told them that there would be a lot of reading and essay writing required, but in many cases, they would have a choice on the subject for their reports.
For this class, there would be no lab exercises. Instead, Prof. Ryante told her students that they would be taking a field trip toward the end of the semester. During that outing, their assignment would be to apply the lessons that they had learned during lectures and demonstrate that they understood the practical application of those subjects. They would have already covered the things that they would be evaluated on before they departed on the trip, including the politics of Magic as well as the mixture of races and species that comprised the Vorcian Imperium.
At first, the young girl had not understood what they were talking about. What on earth is a field trip? she wondered to herself, Everyone around me looks excited, but I have no clue as to what it is.
When the professor opened the floor for questions, there were many people with their hands in the air. Unlike her previous class, the interaction between student and professor was far more energetic, with students peppering Prof. Ryante with questions on where they were going, what the responsibilities would be, and even if they needed to get parental approval.
The last subject was something that caused the otherwise easy-going professor to grow rather stern about when she answered, “When you enrolled in this Academy, your parents unilaterally turned over responsibility for you to the Academy. That means no further permissions are required, nor are they welcome. While you are enrolled in the Academy, we act like your parents. Only when you leave will we release your custody back to your parents. Of course, that assumes that you have not reached the age of majority before you graduate.”
There was a lot of nervous laughter that popped up around the room as the first-year students let the impact of her statements penetrate their brains. When Corda glanced at her friends on either side, she saw in their expressions that this was not news to them. Neither one of them look surprised or concerned, and so she automatically relaxed.
There was something about what the professor had said that Corda felt was important somewhere deep in her gut. She vowed to herself to think about it later but for right now just to relax and rely on her friends. What a strange few days it has been, Corda thought to herself, Less than a week ago I came here, and I was a person who never had someone I could call a friend. Now all of a sudden, I have at least two of them, if not three.
After informing the students that their textbooks and other reading material should be waiting for them in their rooms, the professor once again promised to tell them more about the field trip in the upcoming months. Cautioning them not to get too obsessed about the practical exam, she encouraged them to focus on learning the lessons from an academic point of view that they would then be applying. After assigning them a considerable amount of homework, including reading several chapters and writing two short essays, the professor released them to go to their lunch break.
The halls were very crowded, as all of the morning classes had released at the same time. Corda followed closely behind Gerald and Liz as they formed a bulwark behind which she could trail. The young girl was still turning over everything the professor had said, trying to identify what part was significant when her head suddenly yanked back hard as her hair was grabbed and twisted. Corda slammed down on her knees to the ground, scattering her book bag onto the floor.
A well-known, but hated voice said, “Well, look what we have here. Some stupid little girl managed to slither her way into the Academy. Good thing you won’t be here very long.”
Corda’s eyes were watering from pain, and her neck and shoulders hurt terribly. With a well-practiced effort, the young girl tamped her fear down into a controlled ball and in a totally calm voice, said, “Hello, Pharyl. How nice of you to drop by.”
Before the young girl could do anything else, her brother reached out and grabbed her by the front of her shirt and picked her up. Her feet were dangling in the air and her head swimming from the pain,
but she made no move to protect herself as the muscular, tall young man pulled her right into his face and said, “There is no one to protect you here, bitch.”
Silence spread out from the confrontation between the brother and sister, like water dropping away from a pebble into a pond. Corda cringed in embarrassment internally but refused to show any shame externally.
She had spent her whole life learning how to protect herself from her brother, but at least at home, she had people and places she could go hide. She had not found those places here and was determined not to show any fear in front of this monstrous person who happened to be related to her.
The young girl knew that more pain was coming and had resigned herself to it. Closing her mind as much as possible to what she knew was going to happen, Corda felt herself whirled and smashed into a hard stone surface. Something in her shoulder snapped with a sickening sound, and a massive arc of blinding pain rushed through her body and froze her breath.
Barely conscious, Corda heard her brother’s voice, laden with gloating and flushed with power, “I have been waiting for this for years. There is no one to protect you, nobody you can run to.”
The young girl was incapable of making any response, overwhelmed by pain so great that her breath had been stolen, her vision blacking out. Dim shouts of outrage made a soft background, and Corda felt as if she were falling inside of her own head, slipping toward a cliff that she feared with all of her might.
The sound of Liz, her roommate, was shrill enough that it punctured the increasing fog clouding Corda’s senses. A tiny spark within the young girl rose as her roommate jumped to her defense, screaming, “Stop it! What do you think you are doing? You’re hurting her!”
Corda’s brother snarled, “Good! The bitch deserves it, and she has no place else to hide. Get away from me, or you’ll get what she’s getting too!”
