Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  The few students who hadn’t mastered heat transfer hung their heads.

  “Class dismissed.”

  40

  “What in Talon’s name was that?” Loren said, joining Ash as they filed out of the classroom.

  Tingles of power fizzed at Ash’s fingertips and a hunger deep in his stomach yearned for more, to again feel energy flowing through his veins, his to control. A new awareness coated his skin, like warm wind, but it came from everyone walking near him. He could actually feel their energies just within his grasp.

  “Ash?” Loren tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you done this before? You held out on me.”

  Ash shook his head and focused on Loren. “No. I’ve never—”

  “It was amazing! You should have seen Braydon’s face. Come on, we’re having that drink you promised me.”

  Ash opened his mouth, automatically readying a refusal, but the residual energy sizzling in his veins made his head buzz and the idea of joining Loren for a drink didn’t sound so bad. He nodded.

  Loren steered him through a maze of corridors and out onto the main avenue. More people milled around them, all of them giving off waves of energy that washed over Ash and made his heart pound in his chest. He swallowed, mouth dry, and yearned to reach out for those energies. He took a deep breath and held back.

  They turned right and strolled a short distance to a building with a painted image of an overflowing glass.

  Ash frowned, some clarity returning. “I’ve been here before.”

  “Of course you have! The Spilled Mug serves the best drinks at the Institute. All us students come here.”

  They pushed open the swinging door and a cacophony of voices swelled around them. Crowded tables filled the room beyond. A giant of a man with a bushy beard worked behind the bar, pouring drinks. Ash recognized him from the day before, Grenwall. Recognition drowned under a wash of sound, light, heat, life; so much energy pounding against Ash’s skin that he vibrated. He fought to control his senses, to avoid being overcome.

  “Oi, Loren!”

  They turned toward the voice. Two young men waved at them from a table at the far side of the room.

  “Good, they’re already here.” Loren led Ash through the press of bodies to the table and pulled up two chairs.

  Ash fell into one, unable to keep a smile from his face. A warm glow filled his chest, unlike anything he’d felt before. It was as if he’d been reborn with the energy of three people squeezed into his one body.

  “Ash, isn’t it?” said the boy to his left. Red hair fell down over a freckled face. “I’m Kev. What you did in there was amazing!”

  Ash blinked, vaguely recognizing Kev from basic magic class, he’d been sitting near the middle. Ash pushed down the energy bubbling through him and focused on what Kev was saying.

  “This is Hopper. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t talk much,” Kev said, nodding to the other boy.

  Hopper wore a dark hood that cast most of his features into shadows. He nodded once at Ash and turned his attention to the rest of the bar.

  “What’ll it be boys?” Grenwall said, looming over them.

  Ash grinned up at him.

  Grenwall raised an eyebrow. “You look familiar. Didn’t I haul you out of my rubbish yesterday?”

  Ash’s grin widened.

  “I see you managed to find your place. Good for you. Now what’ll it be?”

  “Four of your strongest ales,” Loren said. “We’re celebrating.”

  “Coming right up,” Grenwall said, lumbering away.

  “I hope you’re paying for that, your highness, that’s going to cost,” Kev said.

  Loren’s face darkened and he glared at Kev. Kev raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.

  Ash barely noticed the exchange, still too busy staring at his hands where a faint glow surrounded his skin like a glove.

  “Sorry you didn’t make it today,” Kev said.

  Loren’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You’re sharing a room with the best in the class. Get him to help.”

  “Please,” a sarcastic voice came from the next table. The greasy-haired boy turned to face them, mouth twisted. Braydon. “He nearly killed himself. He’s not even the best at your pathetic table.”

  Some of the euphoria left Ash’s chest and twisted into anger. He looked up from his hands and glared at Braydon.

  “Back off, Braydon,” Kev said. “It took you two goes to get heat transfer. He did it on his first try.”

  Braydon rolled his eyes. “He clearly practiced before class, and even then he couldn’t control it properly.”

  Some of the other students at Braydon’s table snickered. They wore bright clothes, and jewels glittered at their necks and wrists.

  “Just back off and mind your own business,” Loren said.

  Braydon grinned and winked at his colorful companions.

  “What are you going to do, Lord Drake? Set your armies on me? You northern bastards are all the same. Not much more than barbarians if you ask me.”

  “I notice that no one did,” Loren said from between gritted teeth.

  Ash’s chest tightened and his hand fell to his concealed knife. He could probably take Braydon by surprise, but Braydon had a lot of friends sitting behind him.

  “You’re just lucky you’ve got that name,” Braydon said. “Otherwise you would have been kicked out of basic magic already.”

  Loren flew to his feet, knocking his chair back. It clattered to the ground and students at nearby tables drew back. A wave of energy pulsed off of Loren and crashed over Ash, bubbling with tangible rage. Some of it seeped into Ash, making his hands clench and his shoulders tense.

  Braydon stood and took a step toward the fire, reaching his left hand out toward the flames.

  Ash’s mouth fell open. Tendrils of energy crept up into Braydon’s hand from the fire, fueling him. They wrapped around his fist, forming a ball of energy. Ash looked around but no one else seemed to notice.

  “I said, back off,” Loren said. “I was a Ranger for five years. You won’t win.”

  Braydon’s smile turned predatory. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  Ash drew his knife a short way out of his belt. He had no way of knowing how to stop Braydon if he used magic to hurt Loren; the only option was to hurt Braydon first. He tensed, ready to lunge across the table.

  “Whoa!” Grenwall stepped between the two tables, his shoulders blocking most of the view. “No fighting in my bar. Especially not with damned magic!”

  He grabbed Braydon’s collar and hauled him away from the fire.

  Loren stood tensed, like a cat preparing to pounce.

  “What would the professors say if I told them you were using magic to try to hurt another student?” Grenwall said, leaning down so that his face was level with Braydon’s.

  Braydon’s face paled and he let his hands fall to his sides. “Sorry, sir, I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

  Loren’s mouth dropped open and Kev’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Too right it won’t. Now both of you either sit down, or get out.” Grenwall’s voice echoed in the silent room.

  Kev snatched Loren’s sleeve and tugged so that Loren fell back into a chair with a stifled squawk.

  Grenwall glared at Braydon until he sunk into his chair and turned away, shoulders hunched.

  “Good,” Grenwall said. “Everyone mind their own business.”

  Quiet conversation resumed across the room, gradually building back to the swell it had been before Loren and Braydon spoke.

  Loren let out a long breath and took a deep swallow from the mug Grenwall had delivered. “I can’t believe that bastard was going to channel against me!”

  “He’s an idiot. Good thing Grenwall stepped in; I don’t know what we would have done,” Kev said.

  Ash eased his knife back into his belt and pulled his shirt down to cover it before righting his chair and reach
ing for his mug.

  “But I don’t know why you let him get to you,” Kev said. “He’s just jealous because he wishes he came from a family like yours.”

  Ash watched Loren over the top of his glass and took a tentative sip. It burned the roof of his mouth and sizzled down his throat, giving him a different kind of buzz. “A family like what?”

  Loren’s face darkened and he scowled at Kev.

  “He hasn’t told you?”

  “Told me what?” Ash said, putting his mug down, shoulders tense.

  “Our friend, Loren,” Kev said. “Is the Loren Drake. Of the Borderland Drakes.”

  Loren groaned and let his head fall to the table. “Did you have to tell him?”

  “Why didn’t you? If I was a prince I’d be telling everyone.”

  Ash frowned, mind racing. The Borderlands lay against the Dark Forest. He didn’t know much about the royal families, but he knew that the prince of the Borderlands shouldn’t be sharing a room with the likes of him.

  “I don’t know,” Loren said. “Maybe because I want people to like me for me.” He took another long drink.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash said.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “He hasn’t even told us yet,” Kev said. “And we’ve been asking him for weeks.”

  Loren looked away, eyes locked on the fire. “Can we get back to the reason we’re actually here? Celebrating Ash’s little display.”

  “Here, here!” Kev lifted his glass.

  Tension fell from their shoulders and they clinked their glasses above the table.

  Ash took a bigger sip, the buzz in his head growing. “I don’t know if I should drink all this. I’ve got history this afternoon.”

  Loren snorted. “Trust me. You’ll need it.”

  “Is this him?” A girl, slightly older than Ash, dragged Loren’s toppled chair to their table and slumped into it.

  “That’s him,” Kev said.

  “Excuse me?” Ash said after a few moments, finding it hard to control his tongue.

  “Avarie.” She tapped her chest twice.

  “She’s in advanced magic,” Kev said.

  “But I’m forced to hang out with these guys because us Northerners have to stick together.”

  “She’s just annoyed because the Southerners think that she should be married and at home baking or something,” Kev said with a chuckle.

  Avarie cast him a dark look before turning back to Ash. “Heat channeling on your first try. And I hear it was a good one. Impressive.”

  Heat rose to Ash’s cheeks. “News travels fast.”

  Avarie shrugged. “There aren’t many of us who study advanced magic and Thimble’s hand was still blistered.”

  Ash hung his head, pride and guilt fighting for place in his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  “You’re not the first one to overdo heat channeling in her class and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” She waved at Grenwall to bring her a drink and took a long swallow. “What’s wrong with our lord?”

  Loren’s head rested on the table.

  “Feeling sorry for himself,” Kev said. “Unlike our young prodigy here, he didn’t manage to channel.”

  “Don’t feel too bad,” Avarie said. “Most people can’t channel. It takes a special kind of skill. So, prodigy, I assume you’ll be aiming for advanced magic?”

  Ash tried to focus on her face but it kept tilting away and everything seemed blurry. “I suppose,” he slurred.

  Kev chuckled. “I don’t think our prodigy is used to hard ale.”

  “Better get used to it,” Avarie said. “This lot are practically alcoholics.”

  Ash nodded, although he’d stopped following the conversation. In the back of his head he reminded himself he had a history class to get to in a few hours, but the thought floated away on a tide of ale and tingling power.

  41

  Ash leaned against Loren. The room spun as they staggered toward the door. Ash blinked, trying to clear his vision, but faces blurred past him.

  A sharp pain erupted from his thigh. He blinked and looked down to see the corner of a table gouging into his upper leg. He stumbled back, using Loren to stay upright, and resumed a jagged path for the door. Noise buzzed around him but he couldn’t distinguish the words, everything becoming lost in a general din.

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he opened them, he and Loren were at the door, pushing through it into bright sunlight. He squinted and held his free hand over his eyes.

  “You really shouldn’t have finished that drink,” Loren said.

  Ash ducked his head away from the brightness and cast a longing glance over his shoulder at the relative darkness of the bar.

  “Come on,” Loren said. He hefted Ash upright and hauled him down the road.

  Ash dragged his feet across the cobblestones. Through blurry vision, he saw people laughing and joined in, cackling until his stomach hurt.

  “Here goes,” Loren said.

  He ducked out from under Ash’s arm and pushed Ash’s head down.

  Freezing water engulfed Ash and sent icy tendrils down his neck. Chilling droplets splattered his arms, and he flailed as water poured into his nose and mouth.

  Loren yanked him up by the hair.

  Ash broke the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering. He wiped freezing water from his eyes and blinked; his vision suddenly clear. “What the—?”

  “Just to be sure,” Loren said, plunging him forward again.

  This time Ash managed to catch his breath before the icy cold surrounded him. It rushed through him like an electric shock, washing away some of his drunken stupor. He managed to grab the edge of the barrel and haul himself upright. The rain-barrel reached his waist and water splashed over the sides.

  He ran his hand through his wet hair and stared at Loren.

  “It had to be done,” Loren said.

  Ash used his sleeve to dry his face. The world still had a tilt and his thoughts didn’t quite follow an ordered sequence, but some sobriety returned. “History!”

  Loren waved his hand. “We’ll make it. It’s not far. Don’t let old Dapod know you’ve been drinking before his class though. He will not appreciate it.”

  They staggered up the road. Loren led him into a stone building that looked much like the others and then into a classroom filled with benches where they took seats near the back. Water dripped from Ash and created a small puddle beneath his seat. Some students frowned at him over their shoulders, others rolled their eyes.

  “What are you looking at?” Ash said, leaning forward.

  “Whoa.” Loren grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He gave a shaky smile to the other students. “Ignore him, he’s had a few.”

  More students rolled their eyes. Ash clenched his fists and considered leaping at them with his knife, then chuckled and discarded the thought.

  A middle-aged man with a stern face entered the room. He barely acknowledged the students before lifting a copy of their textbook and reading from the page. “After the cataclysm, order was restored. So began the second age. In the seventieth year, the southern kingdoms specialized in fish, Chromium, and stone. In the Kingdom of Ridgmont, the Hackleton family ruled…”

  His voice droned on and Ash’s eyelids drooped before he’d even reached the end of the first page.

  “Is every lesson like this?” Ash whispered.

  Loren winced and nodded.

  Ash rubbed his hand over his eyes. They felt as if they’d been rubbed with sandpaper and the first tendrils of a headache crept into his skull. He hadn’t taken history so he could learn about export in the southern kingdoms, especially not when he could learn the same information from reading a book. He raised his hand.

  Professor Dapod droned on without looking up.

  Ash cleared his throat and raised his hand higher. Some students looked back at him; others lay asleep on their desks, while still others played covert dice games. />
  “Excuse me, Professor,” Ash said, louder than he’d intended.

  Professor Dapod faltered and looked up, his hard eyes finding Ash. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  Ash blinked, thoughts sluggish. “No. Today is my first day.”

  Dapod’s lips thinned. “And you thought you’d interrupt my class to introduce yourself?”

  Heat crept up Ash’s cheeks. “No, sir. I just—”

  “Perhaps you think that seeing as Professor Archibald let you ignore the enrollment date, that other rules also don’t apply to you?”

  “No, I—”

  “Then I see no reason for you to interrupt my class.”

  The dice games stopped and the sleeping students were nudged awake until all eyes in the room moved between Ash and Dapod.

  Adrenalin fueled Ash’s rage. “Actually, Professor, I was wondering if you were going to cover the time between the cataclysm and the second age.”

  Professor Dapod’s eyes darkened. “That time is not part of the curriculum.”

  Ash spoke before his mind caught up with his mouth. “But that’s a crucial—”

  “I’m sorry,” Dapod said. “Perhaps you think that after exactly ten minutes of basic history you’re more qualified to decide the curriculum?”

  “I just think it’s an important part of history.”

  “You’d be wrong. Now I suggest you be silent for the rest of this class. You’ll find that Archibald’s sympathy is not held by all of us.”

  Loren tugged Ash’s sleeve. “Shut up!”

  “Listen to the Lord Drake,” Dapod said. “He at least has some sense.”

  Ash shrugged off Loren’s hand. “What about the Faceless Monks? How did they come to be?”

  Dapod’s face turned a darker shade of red. “Which part of silent are you struggling with?”