by Elina Vale
“You’ve seen forbidden magic? How? Where?”
“It doesn’t matter. Come on. We have to tell Eavan. She is not going to like this.” She studied the young man. “Are you alright?”
“I... I think I’m fine, now. But it was horrible. The pain... I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“Let’s hope you don’t ever have to feel it again.”
“You saved my life.” He turned his head around, scouting something from the ground. “Thank you, but now I need to get back to my room and write... I mean, I have to get back before dinner.”
“I’m happy to help,” she said. “By the way, I’m Shri Moongale.”
“The Shri Moongale?” He blurted out. “I-I mean, nice to meet you, Shri. I’m Teron DeLureau.”
Shri nodded. “Nice to meet you Teron. Let’s get back to the Octopus.”
She glanced at the dead senatai once again before turning her back on him. How easy it had been to kill him, to end a life like it was her decision to make. Surely, it was going to be him or Teron. What else could she have done?
Once more, she was a killer.
The words of her friend Javid Boudot echoed in her mind. “They won’t change me. I won’t let them.” Shri remembered his kind eyes and the goodness in him.
“But I changed,” Shri whispered to the dark night.
“What did you say?” Teron asked, taking a few running steps to catch up with her.
“Nothing,” she said, pushing the memory of Javid’s face away from her mind.
Now that Teron wasn’t so shaken up from the attack, he seemed older than Shri had first thought. He held his head high, revealing the hint of a reddish beard on his jaw. She studied him, tilting her head. “So, what were you doing in the forest? It’s late and the rains are coming.”
Teron glanced at Shri under his long, dark eyelashes. “Nothing that concerns you.”
Shri raised her eyebrows to him. “Is that what you’re going to say to Eavan when we tell her what happened here?”
“Damn,” he mumbled, narrowing his eyes. “How about if I wasn’t here at all? If it was only you and...” His words wandered off.
Shri stopped, turned to face him, and placed her hands on her hips. “No way I am taking this all on myself. I only attacked the senatai to save you!”
He pushed a small book under his robe and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Shri was certain that he had something in that book he didn’t want her to see. “You know, killing a senatai is a crime of certain judgment.”
“And doing so in order to save an apprentice’s life makes me a hero.” Shri tossed her hands into the air. “Who am I kidding? You’re right, I’m a killer. But Eavan knows it. Everyone knows it.”
“Shri,” Teron said, sounding desperate. He was taller than she was, and he stared at her from above. “Please. They can’t know I was here.”
Shri stared back, her eyebrows high.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, look. I’m doing research that some might consider... inappropriate for a third-year trainee.”
“Oh,” she smiled. “Now I see. Tell me.”
“No, I can’t tell you.” He tilted his head. “Come on, let’s return to the school.”
After several minutes of walking in silence, Teron said, “So, you’re the girl who survived the Gate Run.”
There they were again, those few words. Shri swallowed, avoiding Teron’s eyes. She didn’t want to talk about the Gate Run, so she only nodded.
He continued, “I was told you haven’t used your magic here, that you never touch your fountain in class. You haven’t even taken the Jars yet.”
He was right. Shri hadn’t used her magic since she had escaped Ironflare. Every day, she sat in the corner of the room, watching all the other trainees succeed with their magic, but she was unable to touch hers. She should take the Jars, like all the other trainees had. Taking the Jars would tell her what her nature elements would be— air, earth, tree, water, or fire— but she already knew. She recalled old High Master Aldemar’s surprise: “You can control all the elements? ...The sixth element! How? You can master the element of Ghost?” She remembered also how hesitant Eavan was when she discovered Shri’s abilities.
There was something wrong with Shri’s magic. It was fearful, overwhelming.
She turned her back to Teron. “That’s not something I want to share with you.”
“But how did you get through the Run without using magic?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!
“Fine,” he responded, catching up with her in a few long strides. “But how about if you tell Eavan I wasn’t here and—"
“No.”
“Shri, I think we could be friends. But I need you to respect—"
“Not going to happen. We’re in this together, like it or not.”
As she walked on, she heard a desperate sigh behind her. Maybe she could do him a favor. After all, she had so many demons waiting to get into her boat already that one more wouldn’t tip it over when it was her turn to take the last trip at the Rivers of the Underworld. She could lie about Teron. And she didn’t really have friends on the Island. It would be awfully nice to have one.
The fog turned into a continuous drizzle, and the wind hurtled around them. Wrapping her cloak tightly around herself, she nodded her head. “You should sneak in the side door.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll take the main door.”
“What will you tell Eavan?”
“I’ll tell her that a senatai, probably from Ironflare, attacked me in the forest near Forbidden Bay.”
Teron stopped, and Shri walked a few steps before realizing he was lagging behind. She turned to look.
“Thank you,” he said, with a grave expression. “I owe you one.”
Shri smiled at him.
He took a smaller path that would lead him to the side door. Nobody would pay any attention to him when Shri blabbed her news. She grimaced. Eavan wouldn’t be happy with Shri waltzing into the dining room and shouting about a dead senatai, but at least the distraction would allow Teron to sneak in. Besides, Eavan was already disappointed in her. She had nothing to lose.
She entered through the front door.
CHAPTER 2
IT WAS NEARLY TIME to step into the monster's cave.
Javid Boudot strode through the corridors of the tower Spike, his senatai trainee's black robe fluttering behind him. His curly, dark hair waved freely on his back like a bush of wild seaweed, his golden eyes fixed forward. A few young female trainees stood in his way, and when he approached, they took shy steps aside. He glanced at them, and they smiled, flashing their eyelashes.
He pushed past the ladies. The Spike’s mid-levels were always crowded. The trainees, the drokashai, the servants, were all scattered throughout the corridors, blocking his way. Javid's room was on a higher level, the fourth floor from the top. It was very rare to make it so high in only two months; it meant he was exceptionally talented. At least... that’s what the senatai kept telling him.
The Spike certainly wasn’t what he expected. He pictured the senatai would be more...free-spirited. But the tower was like a prison, and every senatai leaving had to go through her: Shea Ziragh, the High Mistress. She was the queen bee in this nest, and her power was, without a doubt, greater than anybody else’s.
Javid arrived at the portal near the library and stepped in. Light flashed, and he was soon transported up to the higher floors.
He exited into another corridor and sighed in contentment. It was much calmer here. The walls were pure white, bearing magical orbs of light attached to golden crowns with glimmering stones. Beautiful green plants squirmed along the ceiling and down the walls, creating a jungle-like atmosphere.
Javid walked the aisle for some time, eventually turning a corner to arrive at his room. The door was hidden, and without the use of magic, one could only see the white, untouched wall. Closing his eyes, he placed his palm i
n front of it and focused. His hand tingled, as soft blue light vibrated across the wall, making the door visible again. The spell was new to him, but as he mastered the elements of Earth and Tree, more and more magic became available.
He had been told that every senatai could master at least one element. It was called a senatai's “nature-stage.” Most had only one element. When Javid had finished the Gate Run and recovered from his injuries, he had taken the element tests, just like everyone who wished to become a senatai. He had placed his hand on top of jars containing the elements, one by one, and had surprised everyone in the room when two answered to his touch. The instructors told him that there hadn’t been an earth-tree senatai with a Fountain of his size in decades.
He stepped into his room and closed the door behind him. The chamber was small, with only two brown chairs, one table, a clothing cabinet, and a bed. Everything was just as he had left it; the bed was neatly made, the table was empty apart from the water jar, and a brown satchel lay on the floor near the window.
Removing his robe, he placed it on the back of the chair. The magical hourglass indicated he had a little time before he must go to the High Mistress's chambers, and he wanted to clear his head first. He lay down on the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. As usual, he always felt the loneliness attack him when he quieted down. The Spike was a place where one could get lost in the crowd and still feel alienated. He hadn't made any friends here.
His hand traveled to his stomach, rubbing it gently. The wound he had received during the Gate Run was completely healed. His fingers trailed the rough edges of the scar. What bothered him the most was that he couldn’t remember how he had gotten it. Actually, he remembered nothing from the Gate Run. The healers had told him it was normal, that the trauma had caused a memory loss. It felt like a significant part of him was missing, like he had forgotten something important, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He did, however, remember his family. He missed them. Somehow, he had to find a way to visit them, and soon. He had left to participate in the deadly Gate Run, to learn magic and help his sick baby brother, Joma. But now that Javid had become a senatai, he wasn’t allowed to leave the tower.
He pushed himself up, looking at the satchel. His traveling gear was already packed. He had been here for over two months already, but he hadn’t even been allowed to write to his family. He didn’t even know if they’d been informed of his survival.
The hourglass on the wall twirled around. It was time to meet with High Mistress Shea.
He had to calm himself before entering her chambers. If he went there unprepared, it could cost him much. He stood up, stretching his neck and breathing in and out a few times. He had to keep the High Mistress happy. He wanted to keep her happy. Something about her had that effect on him.
Pulling his robe back on, he exited the room. He placed a protection spell on his door, then walked to the Grand Hall. His steps echoed through the massive room, where all the celebrations and gatherings were held. Crossing the large floor brought him to the bottom of the staircase that led to Shea’s private rooms. The wide staircase was carpeted with red velvet, decorated by images of dragons and other beasts. Golden handrails flanked the steps. Javid stared the dragon closest to him—its wings and horns and evil eyes—and again, he felt as though there was something he should be remembering. But what could it be? He had never seen a dragon. Had he? What exactly had happened to him during the Gate Run?
Without touching the handrail, he climbed the stairs. He shouldn’t keep her waiting.
He reached the double doors, golden like everything around them, and knocked, staring at the decorative ornaments while he waited. For a while, nothing happened, but he knew better than to leave. It was Shea’s habit to let visitors wait. It increased respect and fear.
Finally, the door opened, and the High Mistress beckoned him into the room.
Once more, he was amazed by the beauty of the blonde goddess standing in the middle of the chamber. Her shiny, golden locks floated down her shoulders, curling gently against her back. Her soft, pink lips smiled in the most seductive way, and her black satin dressing gown hugged her figure. As Javid gazed at her, he had to hold back his gasp; her eyes were entirely black apart from the red dots dancing in them, like sparks of a bonfire in the deepest moonless night. It was painful to look at them, but if he didn’t, he knew she would force his gaze.
Her voice was pure honey. “Javid, my sweet, gorgeous, boy! I’m glad you came to see me tonight.”
He gave her a stiff-backed bow. “Of course, High Mistress Shea. I am your humble servant.”
“Are you?” she said, her dark eyes reverting to their normal blue. “Then why do you stand there? Please, join us.”
She gestured to the bed, where a gorgeous black-haired woman lay on her back, completely naked. Resting one arm comfortably over her head, she sized Javid up, licking her lips with a hungry grin. When Javid averted his eyes, embarrassed, the woman laughed.
“Come now, Javid,” Shea said. “Take off that unseemly robe. You don’t want to disappoint Doria, do you?”
The dark-haired woman rolled onto her side, biting her lower lip and raising her eyebrows at Javid.
Again, Javid blushed and turned away.
Shea laughed. “Oh, sweet Javid, breaking your spirit will be so much fun.” She approached him, close enough for Javid to sense the heat rising from that horrible stone implanted in her chest. It was the size of a domelo fruit, shining out between her breasts. The skin around it was scabbed over with dried blood, sore with red skin. Javid was too new to fully understand the politics of the Spike, but whispers in the tower told that Shea had killed the previous High Master to claim the stone for herself, but as for what the stone was, no one seemed to have a clear answer other than the possibility that it was an ancient creation of evil magic. Javid wasn’t certain why the stone often changed color, but today it was milky white.
“I could force you into my bed,” Shea said, letting her finger trace the rough stubble on his jawline. “You know I could do it. But it’s so much more fun to make you choose.”
A shiver ran down his spine, and, in spite of his fear, he forced a smile. “I wouldn’t dare to assume that I’m worthy of you, High Mistress Shea.”
“Oh, what a silver tongue,” Doria smirked. “And a smart boy.”
“Is there another way I might serve you?” Javid wondered.
“Oh, fine,” Shea sighed. “We’ll put your other skills to the test.” She reached out to play with his robe, her delicate fingers rolling around one of the securing strings and unwrapping it again. “You are a very observant young man, aren’t you? I’d like you to speak to the prisoners in my dungeon.”
Javid nodded. “For what purpose?”
She let the string go and took a step back. “Tell me what you think of them. Get something out of them. I want something juicy.”
“But... I’m not experienced at interrogation.”
“You don’t need to be!” she shouted, her tone turning aggressive. She sat down on her stool, her dressing gown opening to reveal her naked body. Javid couldn’t help but stare... Her legs. Her smooth abdomen. The shades between her crossed thighs. And those full, soft breasts framing the stone, which was slowly bleeding into a shade of crimson.
Unfazed by Javid’s leering, she studied the table beside her, picked through the bottles, knives, and gems. She lifted a slightly curved sword, much like the blades Javid had wielded before magic became his weapon. The sheath was made from leather, and it was beautifully detailed with elements of the sea – clouds, fish, and swirls of waves. She unsheathed it.
Javid inhaled sharply. It was breathtaking, as beautiful as the High Mistress herself. The blade was shiny, made with cold-colored steel, glowing in shades of blue when the light hit its curve. Aquamarine jewels were embedded in its handle.
“This gorgeous weapon belongs to some prisoner,” Shea said, “but I have no idea which one. I haven’t been in my positio
n for a long time, as you know, but I can’t let everyone else be aware that there are things I don’t know! Therefore, I need you to make the wretches squeal.”
“Surely, someone more experienced—”
“Are you questioning MY ORDERS?” she screamed, suddenly furious, and tossed the blade onto the table. She stood and reached her hand towards Javid. He crumpled to the floor, fighting to push his torso up with his hands. Something wasn’t right.
He couldn’t feel his legs.
As Javid lay helplessly on the carpet, he stared up at Shea. Her eyes shone again with that eerie black light, and her hair drizzled with power.
“Do you think I, the Black Star, will spare your pretty face from suffering?” Her voice became deep and dark, as though it rose from the depths of the underworld. “Do you think I will spare you the death you so willingly tempt? You are nothing; I am forever!”
The air turned oppressive, making it harder and harder for Javid to breathe. He turned onto his back, his hands groping his swelling throat, blackness creeping closer. He felt the presence of the Mistress of Death closing in. His body twitched uncontrollably.
Then, the magic vanished as soon as it had come. Javid blinked, gasping painfully as the cool air traveled into his throat and lungs. He slowly lifted his gaze. Doria stood beside Shea, her hand resting lightly on the High Mistress’s arm. Her intense eyes met Javid’s, and he could read the message in them. The brunette senatai—widely recognized as one of the most influential people in the tower— had saved him from Shea’s whims, and now he was in debt to her.
Javid stumbled up and bowed to Shea. “I’m your humble servant, High Mistress.”
The pink returned to Shea's face, and a small dimple appeared on her cheek when she smiled. Just like that, everything was back to normal. She didn’t even seem to notice his discomfort. “Yes! Yes, good boy. Now, will you go to the dungeons for me?”
“Of course.”
She let out a jingling laugh. “That’s my sweet boy!”
The portals in the Spike took Javid to the ground level of the tower. He reached the hall near the main entrance. Wooden double doors, massive and decorative, covered half the wall. They were open currently, allowing a nice brush of air into the room. The ceiling rose high, covered with hundreds of magical orbs of light. At night, they would diminish into smaller, dimmer ones to resemble a night sky full of stars. Pike holders stood on guard by the doors at all times, even though the magical wards around this tower were more than sufficient to deter intruders. He turned away from the main hall, where the portals and stairs to higher levels were located, and walked to the other side of the tower. There was a narrow doorway, leading to a small room with only one window and one door. That door led to the staircase that descended to the lower levels, and, six floors down, to the dungeons.
