by James Wisher
John grimaced and disentangled himself from the girl. “I’m not your sweetie pie.”
Eli set a bowl down in front of the girl. “Amanda, behave yourself. You know John doesn’t like it when you do that.”
She stuck her tongue out at Eli. “I’m going to marry him, just wait and see.”
The blond boy with the freckles sat beside Damien across from Amanda. He held out a hand and Damien shook it. “Jaden Orn, my dad’s the cook.”
Damien nodded. The family resemblance was obvious. “Damien St. Cloud. It must be nice to have your family so close.”
He nodded. “We’re both real busy, but at least I can sleep in my own bed.”
“Hey!” Amanda leaned across the table so her face was only inches from Damien’s. “I want to see your soul force. Eli said it was really strong. Show me.”
Eli grabbed the back of Amanda’s tunic and yanked her into her seat. “That’s so rude. You’re not supposed to ask people to show you their soul force. I’m sorry, Damien.”
Damien shrugged. He didn’t realize it was rude to ask, so it never occurred to him to be offended. He turned his focus inward and found his shield and the flows sustaining it working just like he left them the night before. Truth was he didn’t know how to lower his shield without removing it completely and he didn’t want to do that since putting it up was such a chore. He said as much to Amanda.
“It’s not fair.” Amanda glared at Eli. “You got to see it. How come I don’t get to?”
Eli looked pained as he tried to think of an explanation.
“I’ll show you as soon as Mistress Ann teaches me how to open a hole in the shield. Okay?”
She whipped around to focus on him. “Promise?”
Damien nodded.
Amanda grinned. “I like you. We’re going to be friends.”
Without giving him a chance to respond she darted across the table and kissed him square on the lips. Too stunned to speak, Damien stared at the odd girl. Who kisses someone they just met on the lips?
“There.” She nodded, seeming satisfied. “Now it’s official, we’re friends.”
Eli put a hand over his face and sighed. Damien finished his breakfast before anything else strange happened. Which, considering what he’d seen so far in this place, was a small miracle.
He was about to get up and take his dishes to the counter when the door opened again and a blond giant walked in flanked by two smaller, but still huge boys. The blond boy had to be over six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick legs. Damien had seen a picture of an ogre once in one of his father’s books, and this boy wasn’t much smaller.
“That’s Sigurd Iceborn,” Eli said. “His father’s the duke of the northern territory. He’s very proud, so watch what you say to him.”
Damien shot a look at John who shook his head. “Sig’s an ass, just like his father. Dad says it’s a wonder they have any snow up north considering the amount of hot air the duke blows.”
Eli winced at John’s lack of tact and Amanda laughed. The shrill noise caught Sig’s attention and he angled away from the counter and toward their table, his companions flanking him. A slender dark-haired boy started to get up, but Sig shoved him back into his seat. Damien tensed. He knew this type.
Sig stopped a few feet from their table, hands on his hips, looming over them. The dining hall fell silent. The giant Northman turned his ice-blue eyes on Amanda. “Something funny, first year?”
“John told us a joke.”
Sig turned his gaze on John and his lips twisted. He couldn’t count on his rank helping him with John, whose father, the general, was equal in rank to the duke. Technically Damien’s father, as King’s Champion, outranked both the duke and the general, but it didn’t filter down to Damien.
“John.” Sig inclined his head a fraction, acknowledging John as his equal, but clearly resenting it.
John returned the gesture. “Sig.”
No love lost between those two. Sig shifted his gaze again and Damien found himself under the nobleman’s intense glare. “You must be the new guy. You don’t look like much. Rumor is you’ve got strong soul force, but I doubt you’re anything special.”
Damien shrugged. “That’s your opinion.”
The minion on the left stepped closer to Damien. “Mind your manners when you speak to Master Sigurd.”
Damien stood up. These weren’t warlords he had to run from. They were just boys. Arrogant boys who thought they could push around anyone they wanted. Well, Damien had gotten pushed around enough. He’d be damned if he let a new batch of bullies pick up where the last bunch left off.
He took a step closer, so he was nose to chin with the older boy. “Or what?”
The minion glanced at his master and Sig nodded. The boy grabbed Damien’s tunic with his left hand and reared back with his right. Damien crouched, tucked his chin, and leapt up, driving the top of his head into the bully’s nose. Cartilage crunched and blood gushed. The boy’s grip on Damien broke and he clasped both hands to his face, trying to stop the flow of blood.
Minion number two rushed toward Damien, intent on avenging his bleeding comrade. He stopped, planted his front foot and threw a punch at Damien’s face. Damien slipped past the clumsy blow and kicked the boy in the side of his locked knee. Another crunch echoed through the silent hall and the second henchman fell to the floor howling and clutching his busted knee.
Damien looked at Sig and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
The muscles in Sig’s jaw worked as he glared at Damien. Finally he said, “Pity you’re only a first year. If you had a little more experience we could have a proper duel and I’d show you your place.”
Damien shrugged. “There are other sorts of duels. Hand fighting, swords, bows. Name your weapon and I’ll accept the challenge.”
Sig threw back his head and laughed. “You’d dare take me on with a blade? I was trained by the finest sword master in the north. A runt like you wouldn’t last ten seconds against me.”
Damien smiled. “You choose swords then?”
Sig stared at him. “Did you not hear what I said?”
“All I hear is a lot of noise. If you don’t have the guts to back up your big talk, get lost. I’ve got to get to class.”
“Fine, swords. Where and when?”
John got up and stepped between them. “If you two are serious about this I know a master that specializes in creating soul force weapons. The blades only interact with each other, they won’t cut flesh. I doubt either of your fathers would be happy if you killed each other. I’ll speak to him and if he agrees, tomorrow at noon in the arena. Sound good?”
Damien nodded, not in the least concerned about Sig’s skill. “Works for me.”
“Fine. Tomorrow at noon I’ll crush you in front of the whole school.” Sig spun and snarled at his bleeding companions. “Get yourselves to the healers.”
Damien watched the three of them walk, and in one case limp, out of the dining hall without bothering to get something to eat. “Charming fellow.”
“I see you’ve inherited your father’s tolerance for fools,” John said. “Did you really have to pick a fight your second day here?”
All around them conversation picked up. Damien suspected he was the main subject. “Technically I got here yesterday afternoon, so this is still my first day.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Sure. Let me know what the master says?”
“You bet.” They bumped fists and John left to handle the details.
Whatever he said, Damien felt certain John would persuade whoever he needed to in order to make the fight happen. Damien grinned. He hadn’t fought a normal person in a couple of years. Tomorrow promised to be fun.
“Are you crazy?” Eli stared at him, his face pale.
“No, why?”
“Why? You just picked a fight with the biggest kid in the school and the son of a duke at that. He’ll kill you.”
“You think? John said the
soul force weapons wouldn’t cut flesh.”
“That’s not what I–”
“Don’t pay any attention to him.” Amanda talked over Eli. She swung her tiny fists around, barely missing giving Eli a black eye. “That was amazing the way you took those two down. I bet you can beat Sig with one hand tied behind your back.”
Damien smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I need to get to class.”
He left the dining hall and made his way to Mistress Ann’s training room. He knocked on the door and it opened on its own. His teacher sat in the same chair as the day before, wearing a similar dress only in red instead of black.
Damien bowed. “Ma’am.”
She smiled and waved him over to the empty chair. “You’re an early riser. I saw you running the wall this morning. That sort of thing isn’t required here.”
“Yes, ma’am, but at some point I assume I’ll return home and if I show up at The Citadel out of shape I’ll never hear the end of it.” He sat and faced her.
“You’re the first boy I’ve taught who focused above my neck and not below. Do you not think I’m pretty?”
Damien coughed, trying to cover his discomfort. What kind of question was that for a teacher to ask a student? He wasn’t sure how to answer her. “You’re very pretty, ma’am, but my girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate me ogling another girl.”
“You have a girlfriend, how sweet. Back at The Citadel?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What’s she like?” She leaned forward, her cleavage once more threatening to spill out of her dress.
How did one describe a demon soul bound to a sword that you could only interact with on a mental level? Damien had never really thought about it. He’d loved Lizzy for as long as he could remember. “She’s beautiful, sharp, with a wicked sense of humor. She doesn’t always get along with Dad though.”
“That’s nice. Okay, I see your shield is holding. Let’s try the trick with the light again. Remember, a quarter of a grain of rice.”
Damien did as she said and this time the light didn’t blind them. He grinned. He could do this.
“That’s excellent, Damien. Now let’s try a simple soul force construct. You understand what I mean by that, right?”
“Like Master Shen’s griffin?”
“Exactly, though we’ll try for something a little simpler. Watch me.”
Damien focused like she’d taught him and watched her form a blob of golden energy into the crude likeness of a cat. It landed on the floor and ran around the training room, jumping and batting the air with its paws.
“Now you try.”
“Do you want a cat?”
She waved her hand. “Whatever you want, just not too big.”
Damien took his own blob of energy and formed it into a four-legged shape with a muzzle and tail. When he finished, the golden dog towered over the little cat, its head barely missing the ceiling. He winced. “Too big?”
“A little. Try compressing it. Don’t take any energy away, just squish it down smaller.”
Damien concentrated and the dog shrank, but glowed brighter. “Like that?”
She smiled and nodded. “Amazing. Well done.”
They spent the rest of the day trying different shapes, sometimes having them battle and chase each other around the room. A few times he lost control and his construct ran into the wall and bounced off. He understood now why the room held minimal furnishings; anything other than stone would probably end up smashed to bits. When Mistress Ann called a halt to the training Damien felt like he’d spent a day in the field digging trenches. “That’s harder than it looks.”
“You did well and the more you practice the easier it gets. Your homework is to make the little light until you can conjure it without having to think through each step. Any questions?”
“Do you know a sorcerer who specializes in making soul force weapons?”
She frowned. That was apparently not the question she expected. “Yes, his name’s Sagan. Why?”
Damien told her about the duel and John making the arrangements. “I just wondered if he’d be a fair judge of the contest.”
“Sagan’s an honorable man, you need not fear on that score. What were you thinking, challenging that brute to a duel?”
“I was thinking I was sick of people pushing me around. I hope this will nip it in the bud.”
She nodded, her face troubled. “If Sagan agrees you’ll need a master to serve as your second. I’d be happy to stand beside you.”
“I’d like that, Ann.”
Chapter 9
Someone jostled John from behind as he tried to make his way down the stone steps. Eli had gone early to grab their little group seats above the south entrance where Damien planned to enter. Everyone else should be there already, but he’d stopped to buy a bag of glazed walnuts on his way and was running behind. The sun shone bright in a clear sky. All in all it was a lovely day to make some easy money.
The excited chatter of students and sorcerers entering the stands filled the air. The main topic of conversation seemed to be how fast Sig would crush Damien. John grinned. Man, were they in for a surprise. None more so than the kids who’d been taking bets for the last day. When he’d bet his and Damien’s money he’d gotten five-to-one odds and the sixteen-year-old oddsmaker had almost hugged him when he proved willing to take the other side of the wager. He’d be considerably less thrilled in a few minutes.
John dodged a chubby third year and finally reached Eli and the others. They’d gotten seats directly above the doors, perfect. Amanda smiled as he approached and patted the leather seat between her and Eli. John sighed. Maybe not perfect. The moment he sat, a tiny hand shot in and snatched some walnuts.
“If you weren’t so cheap you could get your own.”
She popped the sweet treat into her mouth and ignored him. He shook his head and ate a few before she stole them all.
“Did you make a bet?” Eli asked.
He swallowed his snack. “Yeah, a hundred royals on Damien, got five to one against. I’m going to clean up.”
Eli stared at him. “You bet on Damien?”
John smiled at his incredulous tone. He clearly had no idea what Damien could do with a sword. “You didn’t?”
“I put five on Sig.”
John turned to Amanda. “What about you?”
“Ten on Sig.” She snitched another walnut.
“What about all your cheering for Damien and telling him how great it was that he beat up those two thugs?”
She shrugged. “Cheering’s one thing, money’s another. I’ll cheer my lungs out for Damien, but Sig’s huge.”
John looked across Eli at Jaden. “How about you?”
Jaden shook his head. “I don’t have any spare money for gambling.”
John grinned. That was a nice way of saying he didn’t want to bet against Damien. Jaden would be feeling better about that decision soon.
“Damien St. Cloud!” The announcer’s voice, amplified with soul force, echoed through the arena. Time for the fun to begin.
When Damien and Ann entered John and the first years cheered. Damien looked bored and Ann looked stunning. Where did she get those outfits? It was going to be hard to concentrate on the match and not stare at her. Damien spoke with Master Sagan for a moment.
“Sigurd Iceborn!” the announcer said.
Sig entered from the far doors, his chest bare, and a pretty, pale master a step behind. No surprise Sig would choose Mistress Ingrid as his second, she was the only master from the northern duchy at the tower. She was cute, but nowhere near as beautiful as Ann. Judging by the little frown on her otherwise expressionless face she’d rather be just about anywhere else. But when the son of your duke asks you to be his second you couldn’t exactly refuse.
Beside him Amanda shook her head. “Look at the size of him. I’m afraid you threw your money away.”
“Want to make a side bet?” John asked.
She narrowed her e
yes at him. “What kind of bet?”
“If Damien wins you don’t hug me anymore and if Sig wins I’ll give you a kiss.”
She blushed then frowned. “You really think he’s going to win?”
“I know he will.”
“Then no bet. I like hugging you too much to risk it.”
Chapter 10
The sun was high overhead as students and sorcerers made their way to the arena. The founder of Sorcery had shaped the arena out of a single huge chunk of granite. It was amazing. He’d cut it out of a mountain then ten sorcerers combined their power to bring it back here where he carved it out over four days. Damien couldn’t imagine someone having that much control.
Word had quickly spread about Damien’s duel with Sig. John told him over breakfast that he was a huge underdog. Damien had given his life savings, twenty-three gold royals, to his friend to bet on him. If the odds against him were as bad as John said he stood to make a nice bit of coin.
Damien stretched and bounced in place, trying to get his blood pumping and his muscles loose. He wore a simple black tunic and pants, the same set he’d worn the day before in fact. According to John, Master Sagan’s weapons were harmless unless he wished it otherwise so protective gear was unnecessary.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Ann stood beside him just outside the south entrance to the arena. Instead of her usual dress she wore tight black pants and a red silk top. She’d informed him that red and black were the proper colors for this sort of occasion.
“Yup. Watch this.” He made the little light appear in front of him without even raising his hand then drew the power back in. “Not bad, huh?”
“How can you be so calm? He’s three times your size.”
Damien shrugged. “Size doesn’t mean much in a sword fight. It just makes him a bigger target.”
A roar went up from the crowd and a much amplified voice said, “Damien St. Cloud!”
Damien grinned. “Shall we?”
Damien went first and Ann followed a step behind and to his right. The tall double doors opened at their approach and the roar of the crowd washed over Damien. One hundred and seventy-five sorcerers and students filled the seats. In the sand at the center of the arena floor a grizzled old man with a scruffy beard and missing left hand waited, Master Sagan, Damien assumed.
