Magic Academy (A Fantasy New Adult Romance)

by Jillian Keep

  Suddenly she was desperate to find them both, safe.

  Gway’lin took her to the front door of the library, finally releasing her of the touch of his hand. “The door to the roof is unbarred. I removed the glyphs of binding so you could access it and examine the scene. I’ve got to go, so do what you can.” He gave her a serious stare before he turned and left in an obvious hurry.

  Firia ascended the great library through the series of tubular tunnels, using the magic imbued in them to levitate up, the whole time her mind reeling with thoughts of what was really going on.

  The access to the roof was normally barred, but true to Gway’lin’s word, when she got there, she found it open to her.

  So high above the academy, the sun seemed brighter, as if the grey clouds were thinner, or that she was above them. Though she knew that couldn’t be, rationally.

  When she looked around, she saw no immediate sign of a spell fight. Nothing.

  Carefully she began to inspect the place. Though as she began to run out of rooftop, her memories took her back to the government building back home. How Luka had sniffed out signs of magical influence on such an undetectable scale.

  The familiar would’ve been an incredible asset to her in the search, yet he was off and away with Varuj. Seeing to the safety of her father.

  She nearly caved to despair as she finished her search with nothing seen. Was this why Gway’lin had called on her for this task? He knew how she had performed back then. He was there, albeit in disguise to monitor them. He likely assumed she could trace magical trails with ease. And she could, if Luka were there.

  The morning was passing by, however, and she knew time was bleeding away, both for her and her two friends. So she began the process again, this time focussing her senses further. She’d been at the academy a while now, and she could sense magical power, albeit crudely. She just needed to hone that ability further.

  It was a hell of a time to have to do so, but as she made her fourth survey of the rooftop she finally felt something. Like seeing waves of heat over a hot stove.

  Her excitement caused her to lose sight of it. She had to calm herself, focus her awareness and search again.

  This time she kept herself composed, and she could feel the strangely familiar scars of magic use. She knew instantly that it meant they were cast by someone she knew well.

  Mae’lin was responsible for most of it she realized. There were only a few, faint trails of Bran’s casting. Though, she regretfully admitted, her ability to interpret the marks was not so great that she could figure out exactly what spells were used.

  The shifting placement of the battle scars did leave her with the distinct impression of motion, as if the fight had shifted in a certain direction. Though once she realized what direction that was, her heart skipped a beat.

  The last signs of their encounter that she found were as if spells themselves had grappled, the two combatants entangled before taking a plunge. Directly over the side of the library roof to the waiting tower, at least a hundred feet below.

  When she looked down she saw evidence of the truth to that: the ceiling seemed dented, and a small steeple atop that mini-tower was broken. Undoubtedly from one or both of them landing.

  With that realization she rose up and dashed for the door. She had to get news to Gway’lin or someone else to help. Perhaps follow the trail, for they did not stop there at that tower. They either survived and moved on, or rolled over the edge.

  Her excitement to help further became panic when she realized the door wouldn’t open.

  It was sealed. And not by any mundane lock, but a magical one.

  Gway’lin had opened it for her to get up, but it had been set to reseal afterwards, it seemed. Was this a test then?

  She forced her calm and tried to gauge the magical aura there as she had the battle scars. The magical syllabary came into view, and the first of the words she recognized clearly. How couldn’t she? Gway’lin himself had been there to teach her.

  Read.

  Easy enough. The incantation below it was something much more complex, however.

  Her heart was pounding, but she wouldn’t give up. Her choice was to figure out this lock or tumble through the air and possibly kill herself on the spire below.

  And Firia didn’t care much for pain or broken limbs.

  Her eyes narrowed as she focused on her breathing, thinking back to the time she’d spent with Mae’lin in the library. A soft smile turned up her lips, though she immediately felt guilty. What did that mean, that she’d have such tender thoughts of someone and they’d make her feel so horrific?

  Her thoughts were getting away from her, but she kept refocusing on the task at hand.

  The words were slow to take shape. She could make out the first couple of words in the script but got stuck after that. She trailed her eyes along the beautiful lettering, remembered the nights with Mae’lin, poring over the sorcerous language together, catching up on what they’d missed.

  The tall, lanky elf was such a calm and steady joy to be around.

  She remembered being stuck on a symbol for the fourth time, and him patiently smiling at her, trying to help her out…

  That was it! She had it, and immediately the rest of the words fell into place with it. She intoned the incantation and the door opened for her easily. She was free to follow the trail downwards, and so she went.

  When she reached the outside she thought to go find Gway’lin, but time was short. She’d spent so much of the morning just figuring out how to detect their magical trails that the exam period grew closer. If she didn’t do it before then, either them or her, or all three, would be banished from the academy.

  Going around the side of the library, where she estimated the two would’ve landed, she opened her senses and traced their magical auras. She’d been right. She could see the distinctive signs, the two having been using their spells right down to the ground, doubtlessly to save themselves. Though they did not save a bush she found, crushed beneath them or their spells; it was wet and crumpled.

  It occurred to her, one of Mae’lin’s water spells! He must’ve used his control over water to take some pool atop that tower above to help cushion his fall.

  She was on the right trail, she knew that for certain, and followed it off.

  To her surprise, the signs of spell casting did not end. The two must have been insistent, for they seemed to have continued their struggle to the bitter end, right around the back and towards…

  The secret grove.

  She ran to it, pushing through the bushes and then…

  A trap.

  The moment she passed through, she realized it wasn’t the quiet, secret grove she stood in, but a magical snare. A dark chamber lined with so many doors, each with its own arcane words scrawled upon it, and – she sensed – a powerful glyph, the likes of which had once barred her into her room at night.

  The likes of which it had taken her familiar days to beat down, and she had little inkling of how to even try. She had… hours to not only reproduce that task but firstly to decipher which door she had to begin with.

  Her stomach churned.

  Chapter 30

  The Night Before...

  Ancient and immortal, Varuj had powers beyond the reckoning of most. Once free of the academy’s influence, he travelled across the world by some mysterious arcane means to Firia’s home.

  His tall, athletic form strode from the constables quarters. Her father hadn’t been there. He’d been moved to a higher security facility closer to the capital.

  With another great burst of magical energy he tore through the air to appear at his destination. Though exhaustion nearly overwhelmed him. It had been too much of an exertion for so short a time. Two long distance travels in one night would’ve been beyond the abilities of most mortal sorcerers after all.

  The dark-skinned Varuj kept composed however, and headed along the sleepy town’s street to the prison. He’d feed his hunger later and make up fo
r the lost energy.

  The constables offices were quiet, rightfully so. It was late. Though moments after he slipped in through the door, officers pushed past behind him and he had to slip around a corner out of sight.

  “Those damn mundane rebels are at it again,” cursed the elvish officer. “But this time, we’ll stop ‘em.”

  He could hear the sound of at least three sets of boots moving through the office towards the armoury. “Shouldn’t we be making our way to the Guild Hall then?”

  “Not until we’ve armed up,” replied a third voice. “They might not have any magical ability, but there’s bound to be a lot of them. And armed with weapons of some sort.”

  “Don’t be fooled by these sorts. They’re dangerous, like any animal, when backed into a corner.”

  With that they were gone again, vanished into the other side of the law enforcement building. Varuj pondered for a moment and conjured up Luka from within him, the swirl of lights announcing the creatures presence.

  Go, came his voice psychically to the creature, follow those men and report back to me where they’re going. He had a plan formulating already.

  Obediently, Firia’s familiar dimmed then pranced off to follow the constables on their mission.

  With that done, Varuj was free to find her father and –

  “What are you doing here?” came a woman’s voice, and he turned around to see the sight of a female constable at the end of the hall he had been hiding in, standing outside an open door with her arms folded over her chest.

  He’d been caught. Cursing himself inwardly for allowing such a slipup – thanks to his depleted magical state – he forced a smile to his face. Those devilishly handsome features shone through from beneath his dark hood as he stepped slowly closer. “I was hoping to find a constable that might help me,” he said in his silken voice.

  She didn’t look swayed, however. “Awfully late to come sneakin’ around here.” Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face and pinned at the nape of her neck, revealing her strong jaw and full lips. “You look more likely to be a thief.”

  With a broad grin and a deep, smooth chuckle he said, “Would be the wrong place for a thief to show up, no? The heart of law enforcement itself.” His curious accent rolled off his tongue so deliciously as he approached the elven woman, a triangle of chest bare from his foreign robe-style. “I am Tieq. A visitor from afar.” He gave a deep, gentlemanly bow that surpassed the grace of the most noble of elves.

  Her eyes narrowed at him, her suspicion not allayed. “And you decide, of all places to act the tourist, to come here in the middle of the night?” Her voice was a bit husky but calm, even though her motions spoke to being apprehensive.

  Rising up, he reached beneath his hood and stroked back some of that thick, lustrous black hair. “In my land, the law is caretaker to all. An aid to lost travellers, a…” he hesitated, his almond-shaped eyes brightening as he stood but a foot from her then. “Comfort to the lost man,” he said in manly husk, the subtle influences of his spells lacing his every word with such powerful persuasion.

  It gave her pause, and she held her breath for a moment longer. Swallowing, she looked him over once more, taking him in and considering the truthfulness of his story before she finally nodded. Even in his exhaustion he managed to make her agree, and her arms unfolded from beneath her chest.

  “What is it you’re lookin’ for, then?”

  “Well,” he began, a wry smile on his face, showing those white teeth of his, so flawless. “I was looking for a man I heard to be arrested, but…” He looked her over with obvious interest, his hand moving up, then trailing down the center of his chest, drawing the woman’s eyes to his hard pecs, then down along the trail between his chiselled abs as he parted the robe lower with his touch. “It is hard to think on such things in such beauteous presence.”

  She shifted, watching his hand intently as her lips parted. It was a natural and subconscious response to his teasing, but the woman was clearly trying to fight it. She swallowed hard, but when she spoke again it was breathily. “What type of man?”

  “Human, somewhat tall.” He described her father in as great of detail as he could, ending with, “He was arrested for treason, I hear. Nasty sort of accusation, no?” He stepped in close to her, his scent, so masculine, so exotically foreign, so alluring in her nostrils as he hovered near. “’Tis a shame I must concern myself with such a fellow, when I stand before a woman every bit more worthy of my attentions,” and his free hand rose, touching beneath her chin. That warm stroke of her flesh was scintillating, filled with magical influence.

  Her head tilted into him, her lashes descending downwards. She looked so peaceful and calm except for the heat that radiated from her cheek. She was luxuriating in his feel, his smell, his presence. It was as though she were dazed by him, struck by his strange attractiveness.

  Varuj moved in so that his nose grazed hers: “You wouldn’t happen to know where such a man is held, would you, hm?” His voice such a deliriously pleasant husk as he stroked his fingers from her jawline along down her neck.

  He felt her swallow again as she nodded. “He’s in the interrogation cells.” Then, obviously remembering he wasn’t a constable, she added on, “At the end of the hall take a left, then a right. Go up the stairs five flights, then take a left until the end.” She rubbed her cheek into his palm, forcing him to stroke her like an affectionate cat.

  Varuj smiled so approvingly, and it was enough to make her blush. “Thank you, darling,” he cooed so affectionately. “You have been a tremendous help,” and he leaned in, head tilted as he pressed his lips to hers, letting his tongue penetrate her full lips and whorl about her mouth so sensually.

  He could still taste some lingering sweetness, as if she’d stolen away for a snack. Her mouth was so warm against his, and she was so receptive. So sweetly enthralled by his magics and charm.

  With subtle grace he brought his other hand to her side, grasped her hip and pulled her in tight to him as he kissed her so deeply. So passionately, so…

  She was unconscious, as he had intended with his soothing spell, and he held her body in his arms as he dragged her into the room she’d come out of and set her down in the chair. “Rest well,” he said with a smirk, heading off back into the hall and following her directions.

  It took him a while to make it to the interrogation cells, as he had to be careful to not be seen again. Conserving his remaining magical energy was vital to his plans.

  So when he approached the cell containing Firia’s father, the man didn’t even hear his approach.

  “Firia sent me,” came his voice so quietly, though it stirred the silence.

  “Firia?!” came the excited and confused voice of the middle-aged man. “H-how?” He came to the cell door and grasped the bars. “Who are you?” he asked, seeing the strange man staring in.

  “A friend of hers. From the Academy,” Varuj replied. “I came in her stead, for it was the only way to convince her not to throw away her future on your behalf.”

  A half smile teased the man's lips before he shook it away. "Well I'm glad to see she still has some sense left. I told her before I left, giving her what I did…" The man took a deep breath. "Still, it's too late for me. I'm already guilty in their eyes, and I won't apologize for what I did."

  Varuj stared in at the man seriously. “You know that will not be enough to satisfy her,” he retorted immediately. “If I do not free you from here, she shall never be satisfied, and will throw her entire future away in restless pursuit of your freedom. That is an unavoidable fact of the situation."

  Varuj wet his lips as he peered up and down the hall before speaking next. “I can get you out of here. But not without a price. I have already paid greatly just to get this far,” he intoned.

  The prisoner grimaced. "I gave everything I had for Firia. Everything."

  “Not that kind of price,” he said grimly. “I can free you. Bring you to people who may shelter you. But it
will take a heavy toll. And I need you to sacrifice something far more valuable than coin to make that possible.” He softened his gaze and asked, “You love your daughter, no? And you crave freedom from this prison? I can give you both.”

  Kanfa continued to stare skeptically at the man before finally he nodded. "Fine, yes. Whatever it is to keep Firia on her path. Just, we must be quick. The guards will be checking me before sunrise."

  Varuj brought his dark, neatly manicured hand up to the window slot and reached through. “Take my hand then,” he intoned, and the two men joined their touch. “You’ve volunteered a great sacrifice for your daughter. You’re a grander father than I could’ve imagined. I only hope you remain half as much minus your soul.”

  The middle-aged human had little time to react, barely passing the stage of confusion before he felt the very essence of his life leach out of him in spiritual pact.

  It was a more horrific experience than one could’ve imagined, and Kanfa would’ve cried out if he had the ability, except for that moment there was nothing but the anguish of his soul pouring out of him and into the demon.

  When it was done at last, Varuj had only to touch his hand to the door and intone a single spell word for it to swing open. Kanfa stood there, looking the same as before, although the warmth and affection seemed drained out of him.

  “We must go,” stated the demon softly. “I know some people who should take you in. With some persuading at least.”

  Kanfa nodded somewhat dispassionately and followed after him.

  It wasn’t until they were out in the night air again that Firia’s father could really sense the emptiness, the notion of having lost something so precious. He would’ve mourned, but he didn’t particularly feel that strongly about it. “Where to?” he asked.

  “This way,” said Varuj, pulling back his hood and revealing his stunning yet changed features. No longer did horns grace his head, and his masculine beauty, not diminished in the least, seemed somehow more natural. More of the world he was in. He looked like a dark-skinned elf from afar rather than a suave demon.