The Black Mage: Apprentice

by Rachel E. Carter

  "What was the alternative?"

  "That I had never gotten over you." Darren slammed his fist against the wall. "That I was still madly in love with a girl who hated me by sight. That Shina loathed my brother and cared for a young man in her home country. That we were both trapped in arranged marriages, wanting nothing more than to find a way out. That every time I fought with you I was really fighting myself, wanting nothing more than to grab you and kiss you and tell you that it was all a mistake. That I missed my best friend and the taste of your lips and every night that I dreamed it was only ever of your face."

  My heart was slamming across my ribs and I couldn't seem to breathe.

  His eyes found mine. "Ryiah…"

  I forced myself to speak. "You and Shina planned this?"

  "We grew up together. I knew she hated my brother, she always had. When she arrived for her engagement and told me she couldn't stand the thought of marrying Blayne, I told her about you. The two of us were miserable. At first we would just talk about how angry we were that we had to marry for duty, but then it occurred to me that maybe the gods had intervened on our behalf. The emperor wanted a new treaty with Jerar – he knows war is coming, but who was to say the treaty had to be from an arranged marriage? All my father ever cared about was a dowry. It took us a while to convince the princess's father, we had to be careful in our correspondence, but when I finally returned home after the battle in Ferren's Keep, Shina pulled me aside to tell me he had finally agreed. We still had to get my father's advisors to agree to his letter, but it wasn't that hard when any fool could see it would only bring Jerar more wealth than before."

  Darren paused. "I knew we would have to wait for the ascension. We needed to have the Council present and until a few days ago they had been busy along the northern border, meeting with local commanders and their regiment to make sure our defenses were sound after the incident at Ferren's Keep."

  "After you started talking to Shina," I said quietly, "why didn't you say anything?"

  Darren looked away. "I wanted to tell you, Ryiah, but after everything I'd put you through, I couldn't bring myself to say it…. Because what if it didn't work?" He swallowed. "And then that day at the Academy, you told me you hated me. You wouldn't even look at me."

  "I couldn't." The words were barely a whisper.

  "I believed you." Darren's voice cracked. "I started to think you were better off if I left you alone. But then that day at Ferren's Keep - you saw what I was trying to do and you stopped me. You hated me, you had no reason to let me live, and you still wouldn't let me die - even if it would save you. I kept thinking about that when I left for Devon. I thought maybe I'd been wrong. That you didn't hate me."

  I held my breath as Darren stepped right in front of me. "That maybe you still might love me." His hand found mine. It was shaking. We both were.

  "Because I still love you," he whispered desperately.

  "I…" I swallowed. "I never stopped. I wanted to." I was rambling now. "I hated myself that I couldn't… That I wasn't strong enough – that I-"

  Darren pulled me to him and the rest of my words fell to the floor.

  He kissed me.

  …And as he did I smelled pine. Cloves.

  I tasted cinnamon.

  There was only one word to describe it. One word that came rushing back after all of this time.

  Home.

  How could I have forgotten?

  Darren was home.

  ****

  When we finally broke for air the non-heir was grinning.

  "Who would have thought," he teased, "that the girl who tried to get me kicked out of the Academy-"

  "That was Ella!" I shoved Darren and he caught my hands in his.

  "It was both of you." His smile was wicked. "As I was saying, this girl who tried to get me kicked out of the Academy, this girl who tried to light me on fire, this lowborn girl I absolutely couldn't stand-"

  I scoffed. "Please! You insulted me, mocked me, tricked me, lied to me-"

  Darren's hand lightly clamped over my mouth so that the rest of my speech was muffled.

  His eyes found mine. "Let me finish, love."

  My heart skipped a beat.

  "That somehow, this insufferable girl would become the one person I am forever, hopelessly, madly drawn to against my will and possibly even my better judgment."

  I smiled faintly. "I don't think either of us had a choice in the matter."

  "The higher powers are probably having a good laugh at our expense." Darren touched the side of my face, eyes gleaming. "Though perhaps they are right about this one."

  I started to lean forward and paused. "Wait. Does this mean you were behind my ranking tonight?" My heart stopped. It was him. Of course it was Darren. I should have known Byron would never give me second rank willingly.

  Darren's expression was amused. "I can assure you I had nothing to do with it. I was as surprised as you were. Not that you didn't deserve it, of course, but that Byron could move past his… er, difficulties where you are concerned." He paused and then a devious smile spread across his face as he caught sight of someone behind me. "But I bet I know who did."

  "Who?" The only person I could think of was Commander Nyx and she detested the training master almost as much as myself. There was also considerable doubt that a woman would ever be able to influence a man whose reputation was built on a hatred of their gender.

  "Why don't you see for yourself?"

  I spun around and found myself face-to-face with none other than the Black Mage himself, Marius.

  "Hello, Mage Ryiah," the man said smoothly. "Did I not tell you we would talk again? Congratulations on your engagement, if I might add."

  "It was you," I stammered. "You convinced Byron to rank me second?"

  "I merely reminded your headstrong master what a fool he would look should a woman win the next Candidacy… I must say I'm sorry I hadn't corrected his egregious bias sooner, but as it is with most politics I am slow to catch on." The gold hoop of his ear glimmered, dancing off the windowpanes behind us. "As to second rank, well, my dear, he did that all on his own. I suspect the Ferren's Keep commander would have made his life difficult if he had shunned a northern hero."

  I blushed. "I'm not a hero."

  "My dear, each one of us is a hero. The irony, of course, is that most will never receive the title. Bask in the recognition, for I suspect it shall not last as long as one might hope, especially with the rumors of Caltoth…" He cleared his throat. "But enough of that. Drink. Dance. Be merry. You are a mage of Combat and betrothed to a prince of the realm. What more could you desire?"

  Nothing.

  But then a thought occurred. "A black robe would be nice."

  Darren gave me a sideways glance. "What are you talking about? You are already wearing one."

  My eyes were dancing. "Maybe like the one Marius is wearing."

  "With the gold lining? Ryiah, only the Black Mage…" Darren stopped talking as he realized what I was implying.

  Marius smiled. "Yes," he surmised, "I believe I was right to bet on you that day at the Academy. Your future, dear Ryiah, has just begun."

  About the Author

  Rachel E. Carter lives in Placerville, California with her fiancé and their two spoiled pets: a feisty feline named Charlie, and Zoey, an Australian Shepherd who gets jealous of her own shadow. She loves to organize –and when she is not color-coding her closet she is always looking for the next good book. She grew up reading about magic, hot bad boys, and lady knights. The Black Mage, her debut series, is a tribute to all the things she never stopped loving.

  The Black Mage: First Year is the first book in Rachel's four-book YA fantasy series with Astraea Press. Rachel invites you to visit her author page at www.facebook.com/theblackmageauthor. She loves to hear from other aspiring authors or readers via email at rachelcarterauthor@gmail.com. Follow her on twitter @blackmageauthor and read her blog at http://theblackmagegirl.wordpress.com.

  Don't miss t
he story that started it all!

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Don't look now," I said softly. Did I sound calm? I hoped so. It was hard to tell with the frantic beating in my chest. "But I think we are being followed."

  My brother paled, hands freezing on the reins. Almost unconsciously, his head began to turn in the direction of my warning.

  "Alex!" I hissed.

  He jerked his head back guiltily. I hoped the movement would go unnoticed by the four riders trailing a quarter of a mile behind us. They hadn't appeared too concerned with our procession thus far, but the fact that the men were still following us after the last main road had ended left an unsettling taste in the back of my mouth.

  It was getting dark fast. At the elevation we were traveling, there wouldn't be much light left for long. Already the sun had wedged itself behind one of the larger outcroppings of rock, and the rest of its rays were fading much too quickly for my liking.

  I had hoped the party would stop to make camp at one of the few sites we had passed—after all, what weary traveler wouldn't prefer the comfort of a well-worn pit and nearby stream? I, for one, would have insisted as much if it hadn't been for the uncanny appearance of those behind us.

  "How do you know they are 'following' us?" Alex whispered loudly. Our horses continued their steady climb into the dark hillside. "Shouldn't we be stopping soon?" he added. "I'm sure they'll continue on, and then you'll see your worry was all for nothing."

  "Alex," I said through clenched teeth, "their saddlebags are far too light for a trek like this. That's not nothing."

  "So?"

  I forced myself not to let my frustration show. It wasn't Alex's fault he didn't understand my concern. His faction was Restoration. He cared about healing people, not what it looked like to harm them.

  "Only fools—or bandits—would travel so empty-handed. Four grown men are not fools, Alex. Even fools would have known to take that last main road to an inn…" I swallowed. "But a bandit, they wouldn't need to bother with packs since, well, because they would be taking our own instead."

  My twin slowly mulled over my words. I wondered if he would believe me. I wasn't exactly known for my easygoing temperament. I hoped he didn't think this was just another one of my "rash judgments" as our parents were wont to assume.

  As I waited for Alex's response, I pretended to check the footholds, giving myself an opportunity to spy on our shadow once more. Though the men were much harder to identify without the broad light of day, there was still no mistaking the glint of steel bulging from one of the men's hip. Only a soldier or knight was allowed to bear such metal.

  A chill ran through me. I doubted he was either.

  "Right," Alex said abruptly.

  In as much nonchalance as one could muster under the circumstances, I faced my brother stubbornly. "Alex—"

  "I believe you."

  Oh. I paused.

  "What should we do, Ry?" Gone was his relaxed smile, and in its place a timid frown…and an unsure, flickering blue stare. At first I didn't recognize the expression—he looked so much younger than his fifteen years. But then I realized it was fear producing the vulnerability in my brother's eyes.

  My twin, the rational, levelheaded, sane half of me, was afraid. What did that mean for the two of us? I refused to contemplate the answer. Instead, I scanned the trail ahead, trying to make out our intended route amid the lumbering pines.

  Unfortunately, it was much easier to point out the problem than come up with a solution.

  We should have taken the main road, I acknowledged belatedly. If I hadn't been so set on the fastest route to the Academy, we would be on a nice, well-traveled path instead of a desolate mountain range, about to be robbed.

  But it was too late now.

  "Ryiah?"

  I bit my lip. Alex was looking to me for an answer. This was, after all, my forte. What had I told my parents before we left home? I would join Combat or die trying.

  A fine choice of words. What had been meant as a melodramatic proclamation was now to be my intended irony. I could not fight our way out of this. Not against four grown, arms-holding men. Not without magic.

  For the millionth time I silently questioned the gods' motive in my inability to cast. But this wasn't the time to sulk in my inadequacies. I needed to pick a plan fast.

  I peered into the trees, straining to see any sort of upcoming detour. If we could find a way to circle back, lose the men in a chase, and then return to the main road… Or maybe lose them in hiding, taking cover under darkness and then move out again at first light?

  Perhaps Alex was right, and the men would just carry on. We could just set up camp here and now and be none the worse.

  Yes, and pigs might fly, I scolded myself. You want to be a warrior mage, and yet you shirk at the first sign of danger.

  I do not shirk.

  "When I say 'go,'" I whispered, sidling as close to Alex as my own mount could manage, "I want you to take off west. I'll head east—"

  Alex opened his mouth to protest, and I hushed him.

  "We have to split up. Staying together would only increase their chance of catching us."

  My brother stared me down defiantly. "I am not leaving you, Ry."

  I ignored him. "We can meet up at that tavern we passed earlier just before the fork… If…If one of us isn't there within a couple hours of daylight, then we hire the local guard to help search out the other. It might take a little longer if we are on foot." I swallowed. "Local thugs don't usually kill unless someone puts up a fight." At least that's what I'd heard.

  "But what if they—"

  "They won't," I said.

  He shook his head stubbornly. "If they find out you're a girl—"

  I looked my brother in the eye. "It's our best bet, Alex. If you stay with me, you will not be helping either one of us."

  Alex swore. "Ryiah, I don't like this plan one bit."

  I motioned for him to get ready, and leaned forward to stand in the stirrups with both hands gripped firmly to the horse's mane. Alex copied my movements, and as soon as he was in a similar stance, I nodded.

  "Now!"

  In a cloud of rising dirt and debris, my charge took off at a breathless gallop. The thundering clash of hooves and the cries of surprise from the party behind us left me with an elated sense of victory. We had managed to catch them off-guard.

  As tempting as it was to check their progress, I kept my eyes glued to the forest in front of me. Dark, twisting branches struck out at my face and ripped across my skin. Harsh wind tore at my already-chapped lips. I willed myself to ignore the numbing cold and sudden, jarring cuts from above.

  I hoped Alex was having better luck in his bit of the woods. I could barely see five feet in front of me and had to rely on the mare for navigation. Now that she knew our general direction, it was up to her to avoid what I could not.

  The subtle whistle of steel slicing through air alerted me a second too late. One of the men's blades flew past, nicking the back of my right thigh in its course. I cried out and then immediately regretted the noise.

  The wound felt shallow, but it was still sudden and biting enough for me to lose balance. I fell back against the saddle, and the mare startled at the sudden shift in weight, slowing her gallop to a canter. I hastily moved to correct the error, ignoring the added pressure on my leg as I attempted to crouch once more in the stirrups and return her to speed.

  At that same moment the mare stumbled over some loose footing and sent me pitching forward. My hands, slick with sweat, lost hold of her mane, and I was sent careening to the ground. I barely registered what was happening before I hit the dirt with a sickening thud. I had only a fraction of a second to roll before hooves came clamoring past.

  The mare took off into the darkness. I attempted to stand and ignore the shaking of my legs. My entire right side ached, and I had new cuts on my hands from trying to brace my fall. I wondered if the hammering in my ears was from the pulsing of blood or the approaching of band
its.

  Maybe they hadn't seen me fall. Maybe they still thought I was astride. It was dark enough. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the stabbing pains as I stumbled toward the nearest brush. I took a couple of hobbling steps until the hammering gave way to the shouts of men and the unmistakable sounds of heavy footfall.

  The bandits had dismounted and were searching the area.

  I ducked under the bush, ignoring the many thorns that raked across my face and arms, and prayed that the loud snapping of branches was just a quiet rustle outside my head.

  Burrowing as deep as I dared, I waited. My breath was shaky and ragged, and I tried not to imagine all the horrible possibilities that could await me if I were found. I willed myself to breathe slowly, letting my racing heart ease. It was no use.

  I could hear their voices. They were getting louder. A flutter of soft wind brought the rancid smell of days' old sweat and ale, and I wondered how close they were. The bush I hid under smelled oddly sweet, like some sort of forest berry. I hoped its leaves would hide me well.

  How many had followed me? I wondered. Where was Alex right now? Was he still riding west? I strained to hear the approaching voices.

  "…Saw the boy limping…" one was saying.

  Another man cleared his throat. "He couldn't have gone far."

  There were only two that I could distinguish. If there were a third man, he was staying silent. Judging from the number of footsteps, however, I was inclined to go with the former.

  The crunching of pine needles a mere step away froze my heart in my throat.

  One of the men was right beside the bush. I could hear the shuffling of feet against some of the outlying roots. I made a silent prayer to the gods that he would continue on.

  "I reckon he went the other way, Jared," the man said. "There's nothing this way but brush."

  "Naw, he's got to be this way."