by Narro, B. T.
Around that time her body had begun a transformation. Small traces of fat had been disappearing from her cheeks and under her chin, straightening out the edges of her face. Her wavy, nearly black hair of shoulder length and her long lashes seemed to complement her button nose and dark, deep-set eyes more each day. Her breasts came to size as well, not large, but shapely enough for her to carry with pride. The only thing unchanging was her height, which remained a couple inches shorter than most women, and a whole nose and forehead shorter than her tall friend Reela. But Effie never minded being small because she knew the power of mages has nothing to do with their size.
They sat at a cute little table, both with a beer in front of them. Effie was determined to learn more about his training method for Sartious Energy and asked him many questions, finding herself caring less and less about being stared at with each drink she had. When Horen finished his beer, he ordered two more and refused to answer another question until she finished hers. After her second or third, she remembered him saying that his father was a wand and staff maker, and he helped implant Sartious Energy into the weapons. Two years later, that’s all she could remember of their conversation in the bar.
She recalled that Horen was walking her home when two men, who must have been close to the age of her father, stopped them.
“You’re too pretty to be out here alone,” one of them said.
“If the face looks this good, I can’t wait to see what’s under that training gown,” the other one chimed in. Both were about a foot taller than Effie.
When she noticed a sheathed sword on each man’s belt, she knew they were trained warriors. What she would come to realize later was that this also meant they were more likely to draw their weapons than to leave her alone.
“Get away from us, you worthless warriors,” Horen said.
“Oh, look at this,” the man who’d spoken first replied. “I didn’t see this small boy here.”
“His head is the size of my hand,” the other warrior said, holding out his palm. “Why don’t you let the men here take care of you, young lady? What’s your name?”
Effie was about to tell them that even a prostitute would gag at their harebrained attempt at wooing when Horen startled her by screaming, “She’s mine, back off!”
They all were suddenly shouting at each other, each so angry it was palpable. She remembered being confused how it had escalated so quickly and was especially surprised to see Horen react the way he did.
“I don’t belong to you,” she snapped at Horen. It stopped their shouts. “None of you are getting anything from me.”
“I bought you those drinks and answered your questions all night. You’re coming home with me.”
“She doesn’t want you, so walk away,” one warrior said, stepping closer to Horen.
“I don’t want any of you!” Effie retrieved the wand from her sock and gathered some Bastial Energy.
The man who’d stepped toward Horen turned to her. “Trust me. I know what you want.” He had a look as if he actually thought he knew something she didn’t. Effie remembered nearly laughing. She knew men to be stubborn, but this was something else.
She pointed her wand at the lot of them and started to back away. “I’m leaving now. No one’s going to follow me.”
One warrior smiled and started toward her. She met his aggression with her own, sending a ball of fire the size of her fist into his groin; she didn’t want to kill him, after all. He fell to his knees and cursed her.
“That is just a small example of what will happen if you come any closer,” she said.
Effie found angry acceptance in their eyes and left with a couple of sharp looks over her shoulder to make sure they indeed weren’t following her. She took the Sartious heart out of her pocket and threw it on the ground.
The morning after, thoughts of Horen, the Sartious heart he’d made, and her fireball into the warrior’s groin constantly popped into her mind. Each memory put a grin on her face. It was unlike any other experience she’d had and now she wanted more of it.
When night came again, Effie couldn’t shake the urge to leave the house for another adventure like the first. The longer she tried to ignore it, the more she felt a strange tightness in her chest, like her lungs weren’t working to get the air she needed.
Panic crept through her as it worsened, slowly overwhelming each muscle, eventually tightening her whole body. Her stomach seemed to twist in on itself, pushing up into her lungs.
Effie couldn’t understand what was happening. She tried to take a deep breath and felt no relief. She could hear air going in and coming out, but it was just noise. She started feeling dizzy and made an effort to breathe quicker. She sat, she stood, she tried resting on her bed, but nothing worked to alleviate the tightness taking over her body. She was suffocating, but why?
In her memory, her parents and sister had been asleep when Effie had decided she couldn’t stand it any longer. She left the house with the idea of a quick stroll to regulate her breathing; a quick stroll that ended up putting her in another bar.
The moment she entered, the next breath she took gave her sweet satisfaction—the same feeling after coming up for air from a long dive. From that time two years ago to now, she’d been to all twenty bars within a mile of her home.
Chapter 5: Magic and Beer
EFFIE
Summer was ending, yet the nights were still warm in Oakshen. Effie decided to wear a black and gray tunic for her last night in her hometown. The cloth of it was light, comfortable against her skin. It was open at the top and bottom so that she could feel the night breeze against her collar and below her knees as she walked.
The first bar she stopped in was the Gold Hanky, about a ten-minute walk from home. It was loud and lively, but there was still one stool open at the counter near the bartender.
“Effie, going to buy your own beer tonight?” he asked when she sat down.
She smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, no money with me. I’ll bring you some business, though.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said with some disdain. He’d made it clear numerous times that he thought she should be more careful. “One day you might find yourself in a situation you can’t escape from so easily,” he warned her.
The man to her left was telling someone about his donkey getting bullied by his rooster, and the man to her right was arm wrestling the person beside him. She swung her stool around to face the rest of the Gold Hanky.
Effie saw a man who must have been close to her age talking with what had to be a prostitute, given her revealing outfit and leaning interest in his conversation. As he noticed Effie’s glance, he looked over and met her eyes. Their stares locked for a moment before he turned back to the prostitute, said something brief, and then approached Effie.
“Brady,” he said, extending his hand.
Effie shook his hand and looked at him sideways. “Why are you talking to a prostie? Can’t get a woman that you don’t have to pay for?” She was genuinely curious, as he was young and handsome.
He grew a smile that seemed to belong on his face, like it was harder for him to relax his mouth than to let it curl. “Yeah? So how many beers do I have to buy you before I can figure out if I even have a chance? At least with her it’s guaranteed.”
I like this one. He’s clever. “Just one,” she replied.
Brady studied her eyes for a moment, acting like he could discern if she was telling the truth. Then he nodded and ordered her a beer.
Effie took a small sip and licked her lips.
“So what are my chances?” he asked.
“You’ll find out once I’m done.” Effie placed the mug on the bar and turned to him. She liked his blue eyes. Even in the dim bar, they seemed bright. “Are you a class?” she asked. His hands were course like a warrior’s, but she’d known chemists with palms just as rough, like Steffen.
“Yes, I’m a psychic.” He facetiously touched the top of Effie’s head with a finger an
d squinted his eyes. “You want to finish your drink faster…did it work?”
Effie turned to the counter behind her, slowly placed her hand on her beer, picked it up, turned back to face Brady, took a small sip, turned back to the counter, and slowly put the drink back down. “You’re not very good at psyche,” she said.
Brady snorted. “Then I’m just like the rest of the psychics.”
“So by that attitude I’m guessing you’re a warrior?” Effie decided not to bring up Reela. That conversation was not worth having with this stranger. She’d convinced Reela to come out with her once and then never again. Reela didn’t seem to care for men in bars, or really anywhere else, for that matter. She was always too straightforward with them.
“Actually, a chemist,” he answered, using the first sincere tone she’d heard from him.
Effie forced a gag. “A chemist is even worse, especially a horny one.”
“We’re all horny,” he answered quickly, shifting his smile slightly so it sat a little crooked. “While some may give you the idea they want to help the world, really they just want to sell their discovery to the King so they can make money and buy a pretty girl a drink at a bar for a chance to take her to bed.”
“I bet the smart ones just pay for the prostie.”
“That they do.”
Effie let her smile show for a breath. Then she picked up her beer, turned back to Brady, and began to gulp it. She had a skill for drinking quickly, sometimes relying on it to win bets. She didn’t stop until the glass was empty, slamming it down on the bar.
“I’m leaving,” she said, holding in a belch. “I may be back later. Thanks for the beer.”
“I won’t be here much longer,” he called after her.
“Leave if you wish,” she told him as she went. Mixing with the beer in her belly was a drop of guilt, but there were other places she had to visit before leaving Oakshen for the Academy tomorrow morning.
She visited two other bars that night, Steels and Fervor, only to be disappointed by the company she found there. She had a few more free drinks bought by generous older men and got harassed on the street once, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. It had been a couple hours since she’d left the Gold Hanky, and she decided to hurry back. She still had a longing for excitement, and she didn’t know how she would fulfill it.
When she entered the Gold Hanky again, the sight of Brady drinking alone felt like fate. She sat next to him and looked into his bright blue eyes. It was then that she knew what she wanted to do.
“Gulpy, you’re back,” he said.
She leaned forward and kissed him on his lips. I bet he’s going to thrust his tongue into my mouth, she thought. But he didn’t. In fact, he barely kissed her back.
“Gulpy?” Effie inquired when the kiss finished.
“You never told me your name, and the way you gulped down that beer I thought it was appropriate.”
“Gulpy’s a good name.”
“How drunk are you?” he asked.
She was surprised by his question. He was the first one to ever ask her. “Why would you say that?”
He scratched his head. “I’m not quite sure.”
“You’re worried about taking advantage of me. That’s what this is,” she joked. “What kind of man are you to consider my feelings when I’m just some girl in a bar?”
“No, that’s not it. I’m trying to take advantage of you, I promise.”
She laughed and decided to kiss him again. She’d been with one man before, someone she’d met at a bar—no surprise to Reela when Effie told her the story. At the time it seemed like a fun idea, but it felt like she was just going through the motions. When it was over, he’d fallen asleep immediately and she’d left. As if the stigma wasn’t bad enough, it was neither fulfilling nor exciting, making her decide she wouldn’t lie with anyone else until she found someone she actually wanted to see the next morning.
Brady reciprocated more in their second kiss, but it still felt as if he might have been taken by surprise. Both kisses were quick with mostly closed lips, like testing the water with a toe before stepping into a bath. Still, she found the temperature to be just right. She readied herself for a third and longer kiss, one that was sure to have more passion and playful lip dancing, but she wanted to warn him of something first.
“I’m not coming home with you,” she said, “and don’t think this is going to turn into some sort of relationship, because I’m leaving for the Academy tomorrow.” Normally she wouldn’t divulge her personal information with someone she’d just met, but she felt compelled to do so with Brady. There was something about him that made her feel comfortable, perhaps his irrepressible smile.
“Oh,” Brady said, and with that his smile finally faded. “This is a bit awkward.”
“No, it’s not. Did you think we would see each other again?”
“Actually, it looks like we are going to see each other again. I’m leaving for the Academy tomorrow as well. I’ve just been here for the summer. I’m a third-year,” he said. “I share a student house.” A quick breath seemed to cut off his words, then his voice softened. “With my girlfriend.”
Effie balled her fist and was about to smack him when she restrained herself. Why am I upset? Did I expect anything more to happen between us? Still, she wanted to hit him, but she controlled the urge, got up, and left without saying anything.
Alone in her quiet bedroom, her lungs grew tight. She knew it was the beginning sign of her terrifying breathing problem that had grown worse over the last two years. And with it came the usual panic that started in her stomach and crept through the rest of her body.
The tightness became fierce this time, even reaching the base of her throat. It felt like someone was squeezing their hands around her ribs while another pushed on her collar. She knew no feeling worse than not being able to breathe and not knowing why.
Effie pounded her fist on her mattress until hot pain surged through her knuckles, forcing her to stop. She collapsed on the bed with frustration still twisting through her. The more she focused on breathing, the harder it was to lose the feeling of breathlessness, so she forced herself toward other thoughts—a trick she’d learned early on.
Brady was next on her mind. She still didn’t understand why she was upset with him, and that just frustrated her more. He’s just another man in a bar, she tried to tell herself. A man who just so happens to be attending the Academy, with his girlfriend, and you kissed him. Her hands came over her face, and she moaned into them despairingly.
This is his fault, argued a different voice. He flirted back with me. He never said he had a girlfriend. He was talking to a prostie. That, at least, gave her enough comfort to take her hands off her face.
Reela and Steffen were next in her thoughts. Knowing she would see them tomorrow eventually calmed her enough to pass into sleep.
Chapter 6: Keep Back
CLEVE
Cleve had delayed moving in as long as possible, and now classes were beginning the next morning. Even though he had to face the psychic and see the awkward chemist again, he was at least somewhat relieved to distance himself from Terren’s messy kitchen.
Cleve’s uncle didn’t care for variety in his meals. He had eggs and toast in the morning, meat and rice in the evening with a beer to wash it down. If Terren ate lunch, it usually was cold soup while seated on the grass of Warrior’s Field.
It was the system Terren developed and it worked for him, so Cleve never interfered or complained. He didn’t like to cook, so he ate what Terren made, but he didn’t consider soup to be a meal, so he just skipped lunch. While everyone else was eating midday, Cleve was deep in Raywhite Forest where he could hone his skills without the chance of being seen.
He had to be especially cautious when he wanted to train with his bow, and he still couldn’t figure out how he’d let a chemist sneak up on him. His mother and father were killed eight years ago, and bows were outlawed shortly after. His solitary visits to tra
in in Raywhite Forest began then. Cleve’s bow had belonged to his father, Dex, before being presented to Cleve on his eighth birthday.
During their lessons as a child, Cleve’s father had made it clear that the bow was more than just a weapon. It was a dedication. Respect for the weapon was just as important to learn as skill. Even after Dex died, Cleve still could hear his father’s voice giving tips when he missed his mark or laughing with excitement when he made a difficult shot. It was Cleve’s only way of thinking about his father without pain.
Terren cautioned Cleve to leave the bow behind when he moved. No one would search the headmaster’s house, and it was dangerous to try and transport the outlawed weapon. Cleve agreed with Terren’s reasoning and would have been concerned if his uncle had mentioned nothing of it, but he was taking the bow with him regardless. To leave it would be leaving a piece of himself behind.
Cleve packed it in his leather bag big enough to fit a small man. With the outlawed longbow, a quiver, a one-handed sword, and five throwing knives, the bag could barely close. Cleve wasn’t exceptional with throwing knives and would always prefer the bow in a ranged fight, but he had to keep up appearances. Throwing knives were the new bow, and it was expected of any decent warrior to be at least somewhat skilled with them. His quarterstaff couldn’t fit with all else, but he needed to make two trips for the rest of his stuff, so he would carry the quarterstaff in the open during his second trip. He liked the feeling of the weapon in his hands anyway.
When he first entered his new house, he readied a fake smile and told himself to be as nice as he knew how, expecting Steffen and the others to be there. Instead, he found no one home. He let out a sigh of relief and took a quick look around. It was similar to Terren’s house, except the kitchen was larger, and there were four bedrooms instead of two.
Terren’s house was positioned at the corner of campus and behind it was a private outdoor shower and outhouse. However, students didn’t have the same luxury as the head of the school. Instead, one large showering and bathing building was shared by five student houses. It had one entrance for men and another for women. A wall within the building segregated the two genders.
