by C. J. Krüger
Her laughter sends pangs of joy through my chest, and I find myself smiling. “Thank you then, for saving my life,” I say softly. “How long until I am well?”
“A long while,” she says through a frown and pulls away. “Even with my healing abilities, your body suffered massive trauma, and it’s going to take weeks to heal you completely.”
“Weeks?” I ask forcefully and instinctively sit up. The pain in my chest and ribs hits me like a tree and sends me back onto the bed. “Weeks?” I repeat, gasping.
“Yes,” she says and puts her hand on me again. “And if you keep moving around like that, it’s going to take even longer!”
“But I have to get back,” I tell her, knitting my brows together. “My father is going to destroy everything good in this world.”
Her eyes widen for a moment before she shakes her head and laughs. “Don’t be silly, little prince,” she says gently, as if talking to a child.
If the situation were not so dire, I would find her laugh the sweetest sound on this earth, and long to listen to it more. But even she is in danger. We all are. “You know who I am?”
She nods. “We keep a close eye on our human neighbors, even though your kind likes to pretend we are myth. Do not fear your father. The might of my people will always keep humans in check.”
I try to sit up again, forcing myself to fight through the pain. “You don’t understand,” I say firmly. “The Void itself is working through my father.”
“You—”
“Believe me, please,” I plead with her, reaching out to take her hand in mine. “I saw it with my own eyes. My closest friend was possessed by the Void and I am sure that my father had something to do with it.”
She regards me for a long moment, her warm hand squeezing mine. “You say that like your father isn’t possessed,” she says critically. “If your friend was, surely he is as well?”
“My father is monster enough to not need possession in order to do something cruel and evil,” I say bitterly. “To be honest with you, I would not be surprised if he consorted with the Void on purpose.”
“I always did say something seemed wrong with you humans ever since King Markus took over from Jethro,” she muses. “Perhaps this is why. I will speak to my father about this.”
“You knew my grandfather?” I ask, my tone sharp. “Or just through spying?”
Her eyes roll. “Don’t act surprised, little prince. Your kind blunders through this world. It doesn’t take much work to observe what they do.”
“But did you know him?” I ask again.
She nods. “I met him once or twice. Our people didn’t mingle much, but there was an occasional trade or diplomatic meeting.”
I blink, having a difficult time wrapping my head around what she is saying. I was never aware that Elves and Humans had any contact. “You look deceptively young,” I say without thinking.
Her face brightens and she laughs again. “I suppose I do,” she says lightly. “Want to take a guess?” She raises a brow, challenging me to answer.
I shake my head. “No,” I tell her, and turn away. “A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady her age”
“Smart man,” she says, letting out another silvery laugh.
A deep frown crosses my face and I try to sit up again. “I really need to get back and stop my father,” I say desperately.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” A new voice asks, deep and rumbling. “You aren’t fit to lift a twig, let alone a sword.”
I turn my head toward the sound and see a massive man standing in the doorway, bearing an impossibly regal aura. He has long silver hair that nearly touches the floor, neatly framing his youthful looking face. He is wearing an elegant red robe, and looking down at me with ancient eyes. He must be seven feet tall and I see his muscles ripple under his clothes as he walks.
“But—”
“My daughter is the best mender in Arteria,” he says, looking down at me with narrowed eyes. “And if she says it will take weeks, that’s how long it will take. Be thankful you are alive at all.”
My face turns red with anger and embarrassment. “I am,” I say, trying to sound sincere. “I’m just concerned and I feel useless lying here.”
Eldatha looks at me sympathetically and then speaks to her father. I can’t understand a word they are saying to one another but from their tones, the conversation is a heavy one.
“Human,” the tall elf says, his voice sharp. “You are not lying when you say you saw someone possessed by the Void?”
I shake my head. “No,” I tell him firmly. “Shadows surrounded him, and he went insane and thought the Lights had blessed him. His strength and speed were… unlike anything I have ever seen. It was like he was some kind of demon.”
The elf’s face is completely stoic as I speak. Not even an eyebrow twitch gives away his inner thoughts. “I see,” he says flatly. “And how did you survive and end up here?”
“I prayed,” I tell him, looking down self-consciously. “I just prayed to the Twin Lights to help my friend and then… I started to glow.”
I expect the elf to laugh at me, but instead he frowns and he motions for me to continue on. I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts and cast a glance over at Eldatha. She, like her father, seems eager to listen, and that makes me feel more confident.
“The light knocked him back, I think, and the shadows fled. But I had ordered the dam on the Bore to be destroyed. We were on it when it broke and I fell into the river. The next thing I can remember is waking up here.”
The ancient elf nods. “We found no other in the river,” he says, answering my unspoken fear. “And my scouts tell me that the city on the Bore has been completely overrun by the river and by your father’s army.”
“The Borlesions won’t stand a chance,” I say, my voice faltering. “I’ve handed the strongest free kingdom to my father.”
“Peace, young one,” the elf says, his voice soothing. “If what you say is true, then the might of Arteria will be with the humans.”
I blink in surprise. “I— thank you, but how can you keep that promise?”
The elf’s lips pull back into a smile. “I am King Diarmuid Silverblade. I’d say that puts me into a position to keep my word, eh?”
My brows furrow and I lean back onto the bed, feeling part relieved, and part afraid. “What if the might of the Elves isn’t enough? Not that I doubt your magic and your arms, but now my father is empowered by the Darkness. What if everything we have isn’t enough?”
The two elves speak to each other in their language again and I chew on the inside of my cheek. It’s frustrating being left out of the conversation, and I feel my heart beginning to race.
“For now,” Diarmuid says finally, “rest. My scouts will find out the strength of this new threat and a plan will be formed. Deep within our forests, you are safe, at least for now. So just rest.”
I want to protest, but I feel the pull of sleep taking hold of me. It must be the Elven King’s magic, and I am powerless to stop him. My heart slows, and my breathing becomes deeper. “I…”
Chapter Four
Duncan Wolfe
(Year 3760)
“Prince Duncan!” My professor says sharply.
My head snaps towards the sound of my name. “Sorry, Professor Duvox,” I say in a small voice.
“I know it’s a nice day outside, but please pay attention,” she says. “Were you even listening?”
I sigh and nod. “You were talking about how my father united the kingdoms of Men, discovered the Dwarves, and formed an alliance with the Elves to bring down my grandfather,” I say, glancing around the room, and taking note of my classmates’ glares.
“I suppose you would know the story,” she says, smiling softly. “But I still want you to pay attention. You might learn something new, and I want you to set an example.”
“Oh sure!” someone shouts. “Little prince needs to show us peasants how to listen properly. Lights know we couldn’
t without his guidance.”
Others begin to snicker and I flinch at the sound. From the moment we all first walked into class two weeks ago, my classmate, David Something, has been harassing me every time he opens his stupid mouth. My heart beats in my chest and I feel salt pricking the back of my eyes. Don’t you dare cry, I command myself. It hurts and I’m not sure who I am angrier at — him for mistreating me, or myself for saying nothing.
Why did my father force me to come to the academy? I don’t want to be here. I want to be running through the forests, not stuck listening to my own family history and being mocked.
“That’s enough of that,” my professor says firmly. “Show respect. All of you.”
“Or what?” the instigator asks, his nostrils flaring. “His father says we have free speech. Does’t that mean I can say what I want? Or is that a lie, too?”
“You do have free speech, and you should be thankful for that,” she says, her eyes squinting. “But as your professor, I decide what’s said in this classroom. Disrespect towards myself or others will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Rickson?”
“Yes, Ma’m,” the boy says through his teeth. I see him turn his eyes on me and glare daggers.
Why does he hate me? I think to myself and turn around to look down at my book.
“Excellent,” Professor Duvox says, her pleasant smile returning. “Now, as I was saying. King Jonathan freed us from his father’s tyranny by gathering an army of Elves, Dwarves, and Men to the capital.” She glanced at me, her lips pulling up into a soft smile. “Elves taught us how to wield Arkana, and the first Magi were born. The Dwarves taught us many of their prized smithing techniques. It was because of the Magi and these new armaments that the King’s army was able to achieve victory, for they were outnumbered ten to one.”
I recall the history well, and I find my mind starting to slip from the conversation again. I’m eighteen years old now, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve been hearing this story. I look around and see how enthralled by the story the others are, and I try to put myself into their shoes. It’s only recently in our kingdom that children have started going to school to learn anything, and this is only the second year the academy has been open. I suppose many have only ever heard this in passing or not at all. The classroom is their first chance to learn in great detail my father’s achievements and to ask questions.
With that in mind, I feel grateful that this is old news for me. My father always says it’s easy to take little things for granted, and I feel like I am beginning to realize what he meant. I just wish they wouldn’t treat me like dirt.
“Would you like to tell us, Prince Duncan, how your father managed to convince the Elves to teach Humans?” Professor Duvox asks sweetly.
“His father screwed some whore knife ear,” David Rickson tells the class loudly, and they all begin to laugh and snicker.
Red flashes before my eyes, and my fists clench tightly. I stand up without thinking and shove my Arkana at him, imagining myself as a giant punching an ugly bolder. He falls backward and I hear the loud smack his head makes as it connects with the stone floor. He groans in pain and stands up slowly.
“I—” I begin to say, feeling panic rising up in my chest.
“You’ll pay for that,” David growls, “filthy half-breed.”
“Children!” Professor Duvox roars.
I feel the pressure of her will, and it almost makes my knees buckle. David collapses and his face becomes deathly white. The weight of her Arkana is so powerful that I struggle to turn my head to face her.
She regards me for a moment before releasing her power. The weight is lifted and I can move freely once again, but I stay quiet. David looks too afraid to say anything else and slowly gets up to his feet.
“David Rickson,” the Professor says acidly, “apologize at once.”
He’s too shaken to say anything at first, but after he takes a moment to gather himself he finally starts to force out a quiet apology. “I didn’t—”
“Please don’t, Professor,” I cut him off. “I’m sorry for losing my temper, David, but I don’t want to hear an apology if you’re forced into saying it.”
“I don’t even know why I said that,” David replies softly. “If someone said something so awful about my mother, I’d do the same thing. I’m sorry, too.”
My brows lift in surprise. Of all the things I expected out of David Rickson, a genuine apology was last on the list. “Thank you,” I say, taking a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s just finish class.”
Professor Duvox seems mildly impressed, her face relaxed and the corners of her lips slightly raised. “As I was saying. King Jonathan was the first human Magi, but he was not skilled enough to teach others, being a student himself. He was sincere and very determined, however, and was able to convince the Elven King to teach trustworthy Humans. Even the immortal Elves saw the danger of Mad King Markus uniting Humans under a banner of tyranny and darkness.”
“That’s only what the story says,” I say quickly, and then realize I should have shut up. I’m really not supposed to talk about the truth of why my grandfather agreed to help. Oh no.
“Oh?” Professor Duvox says, her brow lifted. “Do you know something I don’t, my Prince? I was there, you know.”
I run my tongue across my lips, as they have suddenly gone very dry, and I shake my head. “No, Professor,” I mumble.
“Good boy,” she says mirthfully. “But you are right. The official reason isn’t the true one.”
“Then what is?” a girl asks, her voice dripping with eagerness.
“That’s a lesson for another time,” she says, winking at the class, “because class is over.”
The class collectively groans, except for me. I’m glad the lecture is over, and that the truth didn’t come out. Though I suppose it’s not bad if it does, considering Professor Duvox is willing to teach it. My father’s warning to keep quiet about the Void turns in my head; he said it was dangerous to even mention. Is it really or is my father just being paranoid?
“Tomorrow we’ll be going into the founding of the academy,” she says. “Make sure to read chapters three through five tonight.”
Now we all groan together. I stand up, lift my leather bound tomes from my desk, and hug them close to my chest. “Thank you, Professor,” I say as I walk out of the class.
“Stay behind a moment,” she replies. “I haven’t seen you since you were a wee lad.”
My nose wrinkles and I set my books down again as everyone files out into the passageway outside the room. “No one has really seen me,” I say, taking a seat again. “I don’t like going outside… unless it’s the forest.”
She smiles at my words and draws her cloak around her shoulders. Her thick white robe ruffles when she sits down in front of me. “Do you miss it? Your mother’s land?”
A flash of tall, verdant trees crosses my mind. I recall jumping from branch to branch and swinging on strong vines between the massive forest trees. “Yes,” I say simply. “It feels really cramped in this school. Like the roof is going to fall down.”
Duvox chuckles. “Trust me, the castle is well built,” she says, smiling at me. “I did some of the enchantments myself to make it very resilient.”
Her reassurance does comfort me somewhat. My father has always spoken highly of the Professor, since she was one of his greatest Magi during the war.
“That’s good to hear,” I say, trying to sound a little braver. “I just don’t do very well in tight spaces… but my father wants me to interact with people my own age.”
“He’s always been very wise,” she tells me softly. “I imagine Arteria doesn’t have many young people.”
I shake my head. “Elven children are very rare,” I explain. “I’m actually the first born in over two hundred years.” I glance away and sigh.
“I didn’t know that,” she says, frowning a little. “Are you alright?”
I shrug. I don’t feel like explaining t
hat the Elves treat me poorly, too. At least they’re a lot more polite about it. “I just want to get to my next class,” I lie. “Defensive Charms has always been my favorite subject.” That part is true, but after two weeks here, I’m not looking forward to dealing with my classmates anymore. I just want to go outside and read or practice magic on my own.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says through a smile. “Keep your chin up, Your Highness. The others will treat you better once they get to know you.”
I shrug again, doubting it. I’m different from them, and that puts them on edge. But then, David did apologize. Maybe there is hope.
“Maybe,” I say aloud as I stand up. “See you tomorrow, Professor.”
“Bright and early, Your Highness.”
Chapter Five
The grounds of Arkana Academy stretch on for miles. There is a great forest in the distance, and the ocean is a mere fifteen minutes’ walk from the castle’s main gate, where I am standing. The back half of the castle is surrounded by a mountain range. My father couldn’t have picked a better place for the campus, and it’s the one redeeming factor of being forced to stay here.
My next class isn’t for another hour, and I plan on using the time to go park myself under a nice tree and start writing in my scroll. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, I start walking across the grounds. The soil is soft under my feet, and the warm sun mixes with the chilly air to make perfect walking weather.
My first day here, I found a large oak that towers above anything else on the grounds. As always, its thick leaves block the sun from beating down too harshly, and a cool breeze rustles through the leaves.
Smiling to myself, I pull out my scrolls and scan over them. I’ve written dozens of small, meaningless spells on them, even though I know it’s a silly project to work on. Almost everything a person could want or need to be accomplished with magic already can be done, from enchanted brooms that sweep for you, or tea kettles that never get cold. What could someone like me offer the study of magic that the first Magi or the Elves haven’t come up with already?
