by May Sage
‘Little hick’ was to be her name amongst her peers, who took pity on her unrefined self. Xandrie always said Talia could charm a stone; it appeared she may not have been mistaken.
Two girls knocked on her door that morning, bearing silken gifts.
“Your gray dress is depressing. Put it away and throw this over your underskirts.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said she, but then Laya unfolded the dress she’d brought with her. Trudy shook the bundle of fabric in her arms, too, revealing a coat.
The girls were like her, mages, not fancy princesses, and the gifts they’d brought with them were of the practical kind. The dress was of a similar shape to what Talia was accustomed to wearing, but the deep, dark red wild silk, embroidered with silver trees, simply made her drool. The coat was black, with a pointed hood and many pockets. It was also lined with fur.
“It’s too hot down in the province of Riverun for me to ever wear something like this,” Trudy told her. “Mother had me pack it for the capital, but it’s also rather warm here. You may have more use of it in the west. And, well, your coat looks like you made it.”
She had to grimace. “My sister did.”
“Tell your sister she needs to find an alternate line of employment.”
She chuckled, turning to Laya. “So, you’re to tell me you have no use of this, either.”
Laya shrugged. “I could wear it, I suppose. But take it as an apology. One glance at you and I hated you because, well,” she waved in her general direction, “all this. Yet, you’re the least precious woman I’ve ever encountered. I’ll remember in the future. Prettiness doesn’t make other women wicked. Take it, and let’s be friends. I’ll be by your side when all the hunks float towards you. Who knows? I may just have a chance with the ones you dismiss.”
Talia blushed. She wasn’t accustomed to being called pretty; nor would any woman born under the same roof as Aleria. But, throwing her new dress on and admiring its fit in the mirror standing in her bedroom as Trudy tightened her back ties, she did, in fact, notice that she looked well.
But she wondered what they would have thought if they’d met Aleria, rather than her. No doubt Laya might have kept her dress to herself.
“You’ll let me thank you both for these,” she said, thinking of the gold in her purse. “I’ll owe you a gift.”
Both women were quite indifferent to the notion of being thanked, however.
“None of that between friends.”
* * *
Now, they sat next to her around a triangular table, listening to a master who told them of the history of their world. Not just what was common knowledge, but also the secrets that were kept from the common folks, like the great Rift between dragons and the rest of the world. Of that, Talia knew but little, yet she was even more fascinated by tales of the older world, the previous era. The tall, grave mage who spoke to them was too old for her to admit it out loud, but he was quite handsome, despite the fact that his beard and hair were completely white. His voice was deep, low and enticing. When they’d asked his name, he’d replied, “You may call me Tutor, for that is all I am here.”
Talia should have taken notes, but she was too stunned and enthralled to do much with her hands.
“Wait, you’re saying that the old architecture, in those dreadful, tall ruins, were houses?”
“And offices, and stores, yes. This world was very different back then. The wars that destroyed it would have entirely obliterated all life on earth, if humans had been left to their own devices. Thankfully, they were not. The gods that look over us, even as we speak, have never let any race destroy the world we all share irrevocably. Our world was saved by the one they call The Once and Future King. But I digress, and that is a longer story than we have time for today.” Talia pouted. She pouted, hard. But she wouldn’t be the one to interrupt a lesson to beg for more detail. Resolving to research the subject at another time, she stayed silent and listened. “We’re running through the history of mages born of human flesh, your kind.” Talia frowned, noticing how he didn’t include himself in that category, although he certainly didn’t look like an elf, or a fae; shifters rarely could do magic. What was he, then? “Does anyone amongst you know the distinction between the different kinds of mortal magic users?”
Everyone raised their hands, but the Tutor turned to her, no doubt because of the red dress acting as a beacon. The Tutor may very well be a hundred years old, but he was a man, nonetheless. “Yes, Miss…?”
“Astria. Folks call us all mages these days, but, technically, there are four kinds of human magic users. Witches and wizards, who use either the power of their ancestors or natural elements. Warlocks, whose powers come from an immortal parent. Alchemists, who blend magic and sciences. And finally, Sorcerers, the highest of our order. They may be a blend of the three other kinds.”
The Tutor inclined his head respectfully. “Quite, Miss Astria. So, we have four types of magic users. And every year, in every human kingdom, the ruling authority calls young mages like you, who have displayed great qualities in your studies. We feed you, entertain you, and instruct you, ensuring that the twelve of you go home with more knowledge about our world. Any idea why?”
“To prepare us?” Guillaume offered, when he was asked to speak. “In case another war breaks out.”
“Young mage, if the outcome of the next war depends on two months of studies, we’re quite doomed.”
They all chuckled. Laya guessed, “So that we may teach the rest of the world?”
The Tutor rolled his eyes. “Like you were taught all these things? Certainly not. Most of you will keep this knowledge to yourselves. With no books to back you up, people will think you mad, otherwise.”
Good point.
She was itching to share her opinion, but even she knew that to answer two questions would brand her as a teacher’s pet wannabe. She looked around; as no one raised their hand, she tentatively lifted hers.
“There hasn’t been a Sorcerer in a hundred years. They’re supposed to be the best of us, those who can actually fight evil dragons and go on great quests to defeat darkness. Those who make it to the stories we tell children at night. I wonder if you may be trying to find a new one, sir.”
The mage’s piercing eyes snapped to her, and she felt something in his gaze, something that made her wonder why he was teaching kids, rather than wrestling dragons himself.
He smiled. “Well, Miss Astria, aren’t you a surprise.” Then, turning to the rest of the class and releasing her from his intense scrutiny, he announced, “We are, indeed, searching for the next Sorcerer - or Enchantress, should it be a she, this time around. And you’re this year’s pickings.”
The Shadow
Two months later
* * *
“Don’t be afraid.”
After months in Leyres, learning more in a few weeks than she had in years of studies at home, she’d come to trust the enigmatic Tutor with piercing eyes. Still. The strange instrument he wielded now, intending to use on her, would have made any girl squeamish.
Talia had been asked to take a seat in a lush, comfortable beige chair and the Tutor had given her a sweet, refreshing drink; too strong to be wine, too delectable to be of this world.
“What is this and how do I order more?”
The Tutor had laughed, all the while strapping bonds around her wrists and ankles. “Mead. A brew made of honey. It’s produced by beekeepers south of these lands.”
She sipped more mead, to distract herself before he locked her second wrist in place.
Talia’s heart beat fast and she couldn’t help a twitch. Still, she would have been more uncomfortable had she not been the last mage to suffer through this. She’d seen the others, one by one, strapped in this very chair, just like they watched her now, from the tiers of the amphitheater where they were passing their first and last test.
The eleven other mages weren’t the only spectators. Great men in long tunics covered in gold had come to watch
, and fine women in grand gowns. It was a posh affair. Talia had never been more grateful to her friend’s generosity; at least she looked presentable in this majestic company.
The old, silver-haired mage, who still hadn’t given them a name to call him by, smiled reassuringly. “It’s not going to be painful,” he told her in a soft voice. “Your mind is going to go through a simulation of sorts. We’re strapping you in to avoid you kicking, screaming, and running like it was real.”
She inclined her head in understanding. The other mages had already spilled the beans, when they’d come back to their seats next to her, earlier. Still. Didn’t mean that she had to like the restraints, or the weird futuristic helmet he was strapping to her skull. The headpiece was attached to machines that beeped and lit up when the other mages had gone through their trial.
Talia hadn’t understood what it meant, at first, but the audience seemed well versed in science. They clapped their hands when one of the nine bubbles on top of the machine lip up green, nodded their appreciation when it went to orange, and seemed disappointed when it didn’t light up at all. Most of her friends only earned one green, others, a couple, and some, orange. The crowd was very impressed with Laya, who got four green and two orange.
“What does this mean, do you think?” she’d whispered to Guillaume, who always seemed to know everything.
The boy had shrugged helplessly but a man sitting behind them was good enough to lean forward and explain, “Each of you are going through nine trials, that you may conquer, manage, or fail. Knowledge, wisdom, courage, ambition, loyalty, honesty, compassion, cunning, and the last one is selflessness.”
“Ambition, selflessness, cunning…” Talia frowned. “Some of these are almost opposite.”
“Indeed. It takes a very special person to exhibit each of these characteristics. We haven’t found anyone who did in our lifetime.”
So, everyone was supposed to fail. She relaxed; there was no shame in coming up short today. No one expected the impossible.
“This is going to hurt a little,” the Tutor admitted, plunging a syringe in her left arm.
She looked away, unwilling to watch as the dark liquid was plunged inside her bloodstream, and before long, Talia was pulled into a deep slumber.
For a time.
She could feel eyes on her; she wasn’t alone.
“Hello?”
There was someone watching her in the dark.
“Who are you?”
A cold breeze of wind froze her bones.
Talia lifted her hand and called to fire. Now there was a light, she turned around and around, but there was no one that she could see near her.
“Don’t be scared. Come out of the darkness. I won’t hurt you.”
The presence felt strong, potent, and perhaps even dangerous, but Talia didn’t read it as something fundamentally malevolent. It was like being watched by Xandrie’s tiger cub, Claws. Not being wary of the powerful creature would have been foolish but that didn’t mean she had any quarrel with it.
“Are you afraid of fire?” she guessed.
Her observer didn’t respond. Feeling half frustrated, half worried now, she sighed and lowered her arm, dismissing the fire with a wave of her hand. Okay. This obviously wasn’t going to be easy.
Using her nail, pushing it on her skin as deep as she could, Talia traced a familiar rune on her forehead. She wasn’t drawing blood - it was unnecessary for a quick spell like this. The little bruised mark would last a few minutes.
“Vide,” she whispered, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they could see in the dark.
“There you are.”
Right in front of her there was a strange form, a spirit of some sort. It was a thing of Shadow, but still, Talia didn’t think it evil. Just frightened, vigilant, perhaps lost.
The Shadow had a human form; the form of a girl, or a woman, crouched on the floor, hugging its knees.
“Are you a ghost?” she asked the Shadow. “Do you need help passing through? I read about these things,” she said, sitting down to be at its level. “They say the ghosts who haven’t gone on to the immortal lands have something to do in this world, yet. I could help you.”
She titled her head, wondering, “Can you talk? I know a spell or two to communicate, regardless. I use it on birds. But don’t tell, I’m not supposed to. Besides, I need various ingredients to perform it.”
“I’m no ghost.”
Talia smiled; glad to have gotten somewhere with her test subject. It was talking to her now. “What are you, then?”
The specter lifted its head, slowly, and Talia’s eyes widened when she saw its face.
It had a straight nose, a little upturned, large eyes, and a small chin with a beauty spot on the left side, close to her mouth.
She was looking at her own face.
“Shadow. Darkness. I’m the part of you made to destroy.”
Talia felt her heart stop.
From what she knew, Shadows were the pure evil living within any creature’s heart. Most never were conscious of it, but it was different for mages. They could feel it each time they made use of their magics, tempting them, whispering to them. Talia had heard hers in the past. She’d heard hers when she was healing a soldier known for his cruelty towards commoners. “Let him die,” it had said. Shadows were temptation itself. And here was hers, sitting right in front of her, vulnerable. She could destroy it to make sure she never became a danger to anyone.
Talia stared at the Shadow for a long time.
“You’re not evil,” she said in a whisper, mostly talking to herself. “You just seem lonely and cold.”
“Shadows dwell in darkness.”
Talia chuckled. “Well, that’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen a shadow without light shining through. I tell you, shadow mine, what you need is a good sunbathing session. Let us make a bargain. I will listen to you and let you have your say. I will not ignore you again. In exchange, you’ll never force your will on me. Deal?”
The shadow said nothing. For a time, Talia thought it might fight her on it. But it finally got to its feet, slowly. Talia did the same, facing her.
“Deal,” it said, before taking three steps and walking inside of her.
Suddenly, Talia felt like she was falling at high speed; she screamed, closed her eyes, and braced herself for an impact.
The next instant, she felt centered again, if a little drowsy. Tentatively, she opened her eyes. She was a little confused to find herself back in the amphitheater, still strapped to the chair. The Tutor was undoing her bonds.
“Tell me there’s more mead on the menu,” she whispered, making him chuckle.
“I’m fairly confident you may have whatever you please, child.”
She noticed the audience looking at her was utterly silent right when she was about to ask what he meant. Now she was a little less confused, she turned to look at the strange machine everyone was staring at.
Each of the nine little light bulbs fitted on top of it had been lit up, in green.
“Wow. So, I’m a Pink Unicorn, hm?”
“Not quite.”
The Return
Instead of leading her back towards her peers in the amphitheater, Talia was ushered out of doors and brought to magnificent regal chambers. Servants brought her belongings there and offered to pamper her.
“Enough,” she said, after an hour of nonsense. “I’d like to see the Tutor. And my friends.”
“Your friends, my lady?”
She shrugged. “Everyone who was brought to be Blessed with me.”
She soon discovered that her wish was law now. The Tutor was the first to come.
Talia was still baffled and unsure of what it all meant; so, apparently, she’d mastered her shadow. What was the big deal? Surely, others had done it before her. She asked just that, and the Tutor laughed.
“Of course some have,” the Tutor replied, amused. “Those we call Enchantress and Sorcerer.”
She frowned,
confused and a little unimpressed. So that was it? No great, secret power? But then again, what legend did ever live up to the hype?
“Let’s squash this disappointment right off your shoulders,” the Tutor suggested, handing her a little elemental training ball.
These were made for children who had yet to master the art of focusing their energy and calling to the elements. Her look seemed to say, ‘really?’ because this exercise was well below her skills.
“Humor me,” said he, and she did.
The fire ignited in her hand, just like it always did, but, within an instant, she was surrounded by flames; her arm, the air around her, the very floor she walked on had been set ablaze. The first lesson she’d ever learned was to be careful of the element she called to her aid; they had been summoned to do her bidding, but they were still dangerous. This ought to have burned her to a crisp, yet while she felt the fire, it was nothing more than a teasing, tickling sensation on her skin.
“Dragon’s scales,” she whispered the curse, shocked. This made very little sense to her practical, well-educated mind.
“The limitations you take for granted? Forget them. Being trained to harness your Aether, and yet reaching out to your inner darkness, your Shadow? You yield a power few could ever dream of. Now it’s up to you to use it wisely.”
Then, her friends made it, wishing her well.
“So what now?” Guillaume asked.
“You’ll all be Blessed. What we’ve seen of you over this season told us much of your character - you’ll be given official titles as servants of the Northern Var.”
“And what of me?” Talia bit her lip, anticipating that the answer would be different in her case.
“All kingdoms of men made a pact long ago. No Enchantress is bound to any one land. Every kingdom will contribute to your pay and may call upon you should they need assistance against great evils. You’ll be free to go where you please and do what you deem right.”
