The Academy Journals Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 3)

by Garrett Robinson

  “Can you find it in you to get the damned wine?” said Ebon, smiling at her. “The flagon is nearly empty, and we do not have all night to drink.”

  Theren left them with a laugh. Ebon turned his smile on Kalem.

  “I think I like her,” said Ebon. Kalem did not speak a word, his eyes fixed on Theren from across the room. Ebon shoved his shoulder. “Leave off, little goldbag. If you stare any harder, your eyes may melt. Or mayhap she will melt them for you—can a mindmage do that?”

  That shook Kalem from his reverie, and he glared at Ebon. “A mentalist, Ebon, honestly. And no, she could not—though I could, if I learned the spell to shift living flesh.”

  “You can turn stone and not flesh?” said Ebon in surprise. “But stone is so much stronger.”

  “Yes, and simpler. That is the key. Stone is much the same through and through. But our bodies are made up of so much—water, they say, and fire, and … well, flesh. That is why you are set to work upon a wooden rod. Wood, and all plants, are somewhere in between flesh and stone. It is easier to turn something complex into something simple than the other way around.”

  Ebon felt as though his head was spinning. “I fear I do not understand.”

  Kalem leaned forwards, eyes sparking with interest. Ebon had a feeling that the boy did not often get the chance to speak of such things with someone who cared to listen. “There are hierarchies, you see. Stone is one of the simplest, then wood, then flesh, to speak broadly. To turn wood to stone is easy. Flesh to stone is harder, but still easy for any second-year transmuter. Flesh to wood is harder still. Then stone to wood, stone to flesh, and wood to flesh. And then there is shifting. That is when you do not simply turn matter—you melt it, or turn it to mist, or make it vanish entirely. That is ... not easier, perhaps, but different, in a way many find easier to grasp. Do you see?”

  Ebon did not see. In fact, Kalem had said stone and wood and flesh so many times that, together with the wine, Ebon was having difficulty remembering which word meant what. But just then, three black-robed figures strode through the tavern door, and Ebon’s heart quailed as he recognized Lilith and her cronies.

  Quickly he turned his head to the side, trying to hide his face.

  “Shift yourself over,” he said quietly. “Sink into the shadows.”

  Kalem blinked at him. “What? Why? What is it?”

  “Those three who just entered, they are—”

  “Is that my jester?”

  Ebon groaned and looked up. Lilith wore a smile as she approached his table, standing there at the end of the bench so he could not rise without pushing her out of the way. Her companions stood behind her, still silent, arms folded as they looked down at him.

  “Leave us be, Lilith,” said Ebon. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I came seeking another, but now I think it would amuse me to drink with you instead. And may I remark how adorable it is to see you beyond the Academy walls with one of your classmates. He must be a first-year.”

  “I am not,” said Kalem at once. “You have seen me before. I am in the—”

  “Quiet, child,” snapped Lilith, before turning her gaze back on Ebon. “I learned something of you today, jester. Do you want to know what it was?”

  Ebon felt the blood drain from his face. He knew, or thought he could guess, what she was about to say. He had to distract her. “You know that if you fight me, neither of us will be welcome within the Academy again."

  Lilith laughed at him, and turned to her friends. “Oren, Nella, did you hear that? My jester is worried for me. How kind of him to think of my education. But why would I fight you, little jester? You did not let me tell you what I had learned about you—Ebon, of the family Drayden.”

  Ebon glared at her. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kalem looking at him with wide eyes.

  She smiled at Ebon’s expression. “Yes, it was quite a shock. But I suppose it makes sense. A worthless student from a worthless family. Why did they send you away, jester? Had they run out of water for you to lick up from the ground?”

  Before he knew what he was doing, Ebon shot to his feet, but Nella, the girl by Lilith’s side, shoved him back down onto his bench. He tried to rise again, but found himself unable to move. His muscles strained against some unseen barrier. With wide eyes he looked down, but there was nothing there. Then he saw Oren’s eyes glowing white, and he realized: this was magic.

  Lilith leaned down, one hand resting on the table so that her face was only a few fingers from his. “What is wrong, water licker? Did no one ever teach you to deal with a real wizard?”

  Ebon held her gaze, letting his hatred show. But then he saw movement over her shoulder: Theren, returning with two new flagons of wine. She stopped just behind Oren and Nella and glared. Then her eyes glowed white.

  Lilith cried out as her foot shot up into the air behind her. Her head bounced off the table on the way down as she was lifted up.

  The glow died in Oren’s eyes as he turned in shock. An invisible force struck him in the chest, and he fell back against the wall. Nella spun in midair and fell next to him, and Ebon saw her grunting and straining against some hidden force.

  Lilith’s bonds slackened, and she crashed to the tavern’s wooden floor. At once she shot to her feet, hands twisting before her as her eyes began to glow—but then she saw Theren and stopped. For a moment, all was still.

  Then Leven the tavern-master was there, pushing himself into the space between Theren and Lilith, barrel chest blocking each of them from the other’s view as he thrust his arms in either direction.

  “All right, you lot have had your fun. No spell-casting is allowed in my barroom, as you know full well.” He thrust a finger just under Theren’s nose.

  She smirked at him. “What spell-casting? The moment they saw me, they grew frightened and fell to the floor.”

  Lilith pushed forwards, but with a hand on her chest Leven stopped her. “That is enough. Leave here now, and mayhap I shall not send a letter to your masters.”

  The Yerrin girl glared at him, and then at Theren, but Theren’s smirk only widened. With a huff, Lilith whirled and strode from the tavern—but not before she gave Ebon one last look of hate. Nella helped Oren to his feet, and they scuttled out the door after her.

  The tavern had grown quiet as the fight broke out, but now slowly the other patrons turned back to their drinks and resumed talking. Leven watched as Lilith and the others left, and then turned his considerable girth on Theren, hands bunched to fists on his hips.

  “You swore to me you would not begin another wizard’s duel here.”

  Theren still held a flagon in either hand, but she swept one foot behind the other to dip in a low bow. “And it gives me great pleasure to have kept my vow. I did not begin a duel at all. In fact, to my mind, I ended one.”

  Leven shook his head. “I mean it, girl. I will not have you breaking more tables—not to mention my finest bottles.”

  Theren straightened and wiggled the flagons before his eyes. “Even if I have a new friend, who is willing to pay handsomely for such fine bottles?”

  The alemaster shook his head, and his scowl weakened somewhat. But his voice remained stern. “Just remember: become more trouble than you are worth, and you will no longer be welcome here.”

  She stepped past him, planting a brief kiss on his cheek. “You have the heart of a king, Leven.” But Ebon noted that that was no answer.

  Leven walked away, and Theren resumed her seat across the table. She pushed one flagon towards Ebon and took a long pull directly from the other. “Well. It seems I misjudged you. If Lilith dislikes you so, you must be very nearly honorable—at least for goldbags.”

  Ebon shrugged. But Kalem had ducked his gaze, and at Theren’s words he made to stand. “I should be returning to the Academy,” the boy mumbled. “It is very late.”

  “Kalem, sit down,” Ebon urged him. “Please. I am sorry, for I dealt with you dishonestly, though I did not lie.”
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  Theren arched a thin eyebrow. “Oh? Dissent among the ranks?”

  Ebon sighed and fixed her with a look. “I shall tell you as well, I suppose, since I would rather not anger you later, with your command of magic. I failed to mention my family’s name earlier. But I am Ebon, of the family Drayden, and I hail from the capital of Idris.”

  Theren became very still, except for her fingers, which drummed on the neck of her wine flagon: tap-tap. Tap-tap.

  “I am sorry,” said Ebon, lowering his gaze now. “Only … only that name has plagued me all my life, and it seems that everyone I meet hates me because I carry it. I thought that here, where we all wear the same black robes, mayhap I could leave it behind. Yet I cannot. Lilith will not let me—and now, it seems, neither will the two of you. I should not have come here tonight.” He made to stand.

  “Oh, sit down,” said Theren, eyes rolling. “Honestly, you wealthy ones are so prone to dramatics.”

  Ebon hesitated. Looking back, he saw Kalem still gazing at his own lap. After a long moment of silence, the boy finally looked up at him. “I thought you were royalty, like me.”

  “I am not,” said Ebon. “Would you have befriended me, if you knew? I have not had a friend in many a long year. Forgive me, for I saw a chance at finding one, but I should not have lied to make it come true.”

  For a moment Kalem looked out the window, to the street where constables were just now coming around to light the street lamps. His hands twisted in his lap. “I suppose I can understand that,” he said quietly.

  Theren took Ebon’s goblet and handed it to him. “Drayden or not, and whether you summon it by gold or by alchemy—only keep the wine coming, and you will have my friendship.”

  Ebon smirked, and he saw Kalem give a little smile. He took his seat, and together they raised their cups to drink deep.

  WHEN HE WENT TO BREAK his fast the next morning, Ebon sat at an empty table as he had done before. But soon, to his slight surprise, Theren came and sat wordlessly on the bench beside him. After a moment, Kalem sat on his other side. Theren looked none the worse for wear, but Kalem held a hand pressed hard over his blue eyes, and his coppery hair was greasy, as though he had yet to bathe.

  “Why?” he muttered as he sat with them. “Why does it hurt so?”

  Ebon smiled. “You have found the sweet pain of wine, my young friend. I fear that I did not watch you as closely as I should have. You drank too much for your own good.”

  Kalem peered at him from between his fingers. “Is it always like this? Do dragons scream within your head as well?”

  “They do not, but then I do not think I drank so much as you,” said Ebon diplomatically.

  “You had more, and so did I,” said Theren, missing his attempt at kindness—or mayhap not caring. “But we can hold our wine.”

  “Do not say that word,” said Kalem, quickly pressing a hand to his mouth. “The very sound of it makes me want to vomit.”

  Ebon clapped him on the back, and the boy winced. “You should be proud you have not done that already.”

  “I have. Twice.”

  Theren had finished her food shockingly fast, and now she shoved the heel of her bread into Ebon’s bowl to soak up some of his broth. “It occurs to me that after last night’s fisticuffs, which I rather enjoyed, our conversation did not range so far as it might have. We seemed more interested in wine than words.”

  “Please, do not say that word.”

  Theren ignored him. “What did you do to invite Lilith’s wrath, Ebon?”

  Ebon shrugged, though secretly he was pleased that she no longer called him ‘goldbag.’ “I only met her the day before last. She seemed to hate me from the start, though as you heard, she did not learn my family’s name until yesterday. Mayhap she only meant to mock me at first, because I … that is, I am …”

  Theren frowned. “What is it? Come, spit it out.”

  Kalem looked at her, lips twisting. “He is untrained. His father never let him study magic.”

  Theren stared. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I wish I were not.”

  Theren’s eyes glowed as she twisted a finger, and the empty bowl before her lifted up until it was standing on one edge. Spinning her finger in little circles, she sent it twirling on the spot, until it was only a blur before her. Ebon did not know if she did it to torment him, or only because her mind was working, but he wished she would stop it. “You mean to say that you cannot do even the simplest of magic? How did you learn you were an alchemist, then?”

  “Transmuter,” said Kalem.

  “Wine,” said Theren. Kalem groaned.

  “I did the testing spell when I was a child,” said Ebon. “But the moment my father learned the truth, he forbade me from ever trying it again. My valet was required to report it if I was ever seen trying a spell. I managed the testing spell again only two days ago, but when I tried it yesterday, it did not work.”

  “What did Credell say when you told him?” said Kalem.

  Ebon stabbed his spoon into his soup, making some of it splash out on the table. “It was hard to tell around all of his gibbering. He is more frightened of me than he would be of a viper in his bed. At this rate I shall never be an alchemist.”

  Theren snorted. “Poor little goldbag. You know, do you not, that some of us do not have a family name to help us in our training here?”

  He glared at her. “My name has not helped me at all. If anything, it has made things worse.”

  She dismissed him with a wave. “Spare me. The dean is a Drayden, and no doubt some distant cousin of yours.” Then the glow faded from her eyes, and she leaned forwards with interest. Her bowl stopped spinning, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Say. You could appeal to him for special permissions. We could leave the Academy after hours if we wanted. Mayhap you could have him speak to my instructor to teach me higher spells.”

  “You misunderstand his view of me,” said Ebon. “He only sees me at all out of pompous vanity and some small sense of duty to my aunt. And his visit made Credell’s treatment of me all the more difficult to bear.”

  Theren glared at him. “Poor little goldbag,” she said again. She leaned back, her eyes glowed, and her spoon flew into her bowl with a little clunk.

  Kalem watched her spells with a little pout. “I wish I were a mentalist,” he said wistfully. “Or an elementalist, even. How wonderful it must be to have such power. Transmutation often seems the weakest of the branches.”

  Theren shrugged. “I will not deny that my gift can be amusing.”

  Ebon, too, was impressed by her effortless command of her magic. And watching her lift her bowl into her hands using only her mind, he was struck by an idea. “Theren—could you teach me?”

  She blinked at him, the glow in her eyes dying. “Teach you what?”

  “Magic. Kalem agreed to help me learn my spells, but you are more advanced than he. Mayhap you could even help both of us.”

  Kalem and Theren gawked at each other before looking back to Ebon. “Sky above,” Theren said quietly. “Do you honestly know nothing of magic?”

  He felt his cheeks burning, and he ducked his head. “I have told you as much already.”

  “You said so, yes, but …” Theren chuckled. “Oh, this is rich indeed. I was determined not to pity you, Ebon, but you test my limits.”

  Ebon leaned away from the table, folding his arms. He knew he must look like a pouting child, but he did not care. “Stop your mockery. Tell me what I said wrong.”

  Kalem put a gentle hand on Ebon’s arm and spoke with a slow patience that grated on his nerves. “The different branches are utterly unlike each other. Theren could no more teach you magic than a bird could teach you to fly.”

  “I do not understand,” said Ebon, brow furrowing. “Magic is magic. Does it not all come from the same source?”

  Theren shook her head sadly as Kalem went on. “Mayhap, but it becomes different by the time we are able to use it. Elementalis
m is chiefly cast through speech, mentalism through the eyes. Therianthropy takes place in the mind, and transmutation is cast through the hands.”

  “But we all envision our spells as we cast them,” said Ebon.

  Kalem’s lips pressed together, and he looked helplessly at Theren. Again she shook her head. “Yes and no. It is … well, it is difficult to explain, even for me. Even, I sometimes think, for our instructors. I can tell you only that once you have attained command of your gift, it comes ever more naturally. Likely you do not remember learning to walk, but you have seen babies trying to master it. They try and try, but they cannot keep their balance. Then, one day, they are able to take their first steps. From then on, they simply … walk. You do it without thinking now—but could you explain it to an infant?”

  “And transmutation is to mentalism as walking is to a fish’s swimming,” put in Kalem, “or like a bird’s learning to fly.”

  Ebon shook his head miserably. “I still do not understand.”

  Kalem put a hand on his shoulder and smiled brightly. “You shall. I will do my best to teach you. Soon you shall turn wood to stone as though it were pouring wine into a goblet.” His face soured. “Ugh. I may need to retch again.”

  Ebon sighed. “I tried that this morning. I snuck into my classroom to fetch a wooden rod.” He pulled it from his robes. “Yet it is still wooden, and I cannot seem to grasp the first thing about turning it otherwise.”

  “You will learn it soon,” said Kalem.

  “I hope so,” groused Ebon. “It would be nice to have a victory, even one so small. My instructor is afraid of me, the dean only makes it worse, and for some reason I cannot comprehend, a Yerrin girl has decided to make me her own personal whipping-boy. Finding I cannot use magic after all would only seem to fit the pattern.”

  Theren’s eyes glowed, and the rod floated from his grip into the air. She spun it before her eyes as she pursed her lips. “Well, I do not envy you. Learning my first magic after the testing spell seemed to take ages. But it came easier after that.” The glow died away, and she caught the rod as it fell. She leaned forwards with interest, pointing the rod at Ebon like a baton. “Say. Mayhap we can solve one of your problems, at least. You have started some quarrel with Lilith, or the quarrel has come to you regardless. How should you like to repay her for shaming you?”