"Match!" The arbiter shouts, raising a red flag that matches the color of the band on my arm. I hear clapping from the audience of mages surrounding us.
Somebody runs over and helps my opponent to his feet. There is a smoking hole in his tunic but he bears no serious wounds. I had purposely used just enough radiant magic to punch through his shield, but not enough to permanently harm him.
He looks over at me with thinly veiled hatred, then winces as his companion laces an arm around his shoulder and escorts him off the practice field.
That's right, I think to myself triumphantly. You've just been bested by a girl.
I let out a long breath as the clapping dies down, my ears still ringing from the exertion. Channeling can take a heavy physical toll, and right now I am feeling the effects of using too much magic. My body feels drained and weak, and my head is beginning to throb. Deep down, I understand that the fatigue is nothing a little food and rest will not fix, but right now it makes me feel decidedly unpleasant.
"Well done, Initiate Dennel!" Evoker Laramie exclaims, rushing to my side. He is grinning widely at me. "You're officially ranked number one in your class!"
I give the withered old mage a lopsided smile. In truth I feel much more exhausted than I am letting on. "It was nothing," I say casually, letting the source energy seep out of my body, which causes me to shiver. "I was at least hoping for a bit of a challenge." I let go of my talisman, a small crystal on a silver chain, and put it back around my neck where it rests comfortably on my chest.
Laramie chuckles. "My dear, you remind me of myself when I was your age. So very full of life and light. I wonder, though, do the duties of an initiate still suite you? Or are you ready perhaps to move on to bigger and better things?"
My eyes widen at the elder mage's implication, and that only makes him chuckle more.
"Of course," he says, "such matters are not for me to decide. Even though you are one of my brightest pupils."
I wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead with the cuffs of my shirt sleeve. "Thank you, Magus."
He nods, and his expression becomes more somber. "I must admit that I did not come here merely to enjoy the spectacle of two apprentices bludgeoning each other with magic. I come bearing a message from Arch-magister Elva Tyrande's office in the Pillar of Radiance. She requests your presence as soon as you are able, though she did not divulge the details to me."
"Arch-magister Tyrande?" I ask, astonished. "She wants to meet with me?"
"Indeed," Laramie says. "And knowing her reputation, I do not think it would be in your best interest to keep her waiting." He rests a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. "I had a special feeling when you first came to the Conclave. If you keep going on like this, you'll be raised to a full mage in no time."
This time my smile is completely genuine, despite the queasy feeling I suddenly feel in my gut. "Thank you, Magus."
He nods and totters off, leaving me alone in the center of the practice field.
I look around and, for the most part, the crowd of mages has dispersed, wandering off to watch other magical duels currently being mediated. I decide not to waste any time. The Pillar of Radiance is a good distance from the Academy, and I don't have the money to pay for a carriage.
I begin to walk briskly to the center of the city.
Why does Arch-magister Tyrande want to meet with me? She reports directly to the High Magus herself, and I am just an apprentice! I hope my after-hours research at the library hasn't gotten me in some sort of trouble.
My thoughts are a whirlwind, and it doesn't help that I am left feeling drained from my bout on the practice field. Hopefully the Arch-magister does not mind my completely disheveled appearance.
I take the marble stairs leading up to the main street level and try to groom myself on the go. I wipe the last of the sweat from my face and pull the loose strands of brown hair back and into some semblance of a ponytail. I only wish that I had enough time to go back to my dormitory and change into my more formal initiate robes. Right now I am wearing my long-sleeved training tunic and trousers. Hardly the most flattering of outfits.
It'll have to do, I think resolutely as I step onto the street.
As I walk my eyes can't help but gaze up in wonder at the high, glistening towers of Tarsys. Like giant spikes of burnished silver they rise up into the heavens, making the city itself look like a jagged mountain peak covered in snow. It could not be more different than the tiny fishing village where I had been raised. Even after living in Tarsys for five years, the architecture still causes me to marvel.
Five years... has it really been that long?
It is hard to imagine that I am no longer that scared thirteen-year-old girl who came to the Conclave to learn how to use magic.
The wide boulevards in this district are clean and well-kept; King Aethelgar will not settle for anything less in the kingdom's capital. The people out on the street are as diverse as they are numerous, walking and conversing with one another in clothing ranging from neat and humble to outlandish and gaudy.
I take it all in with a sweeping glance. This is the beating heart of civilization, the very center of the world.
And I absolutely love being a part of it.
As I pass a row of food carts my nose is assaulted by an array of different smells. Roasted meats, candied nuts, and succulent pies fill me with their aromas and make my mouth start to water. I am reminded of just how famished my magical sparring has made me.
Pushing through the hunger I continue on my way, walking toward the cluster of towers that make up the Conclave at the center of the city. There, standing even taller than the other towers, is the central spire, the greatest wonder that man has ever built.
Even now I can see it looming in front of me, an edifice that puts all the other towers in the city to shame.
Like an enormous obelisk forged from ivory and gold, the Pillar of Radiance rises from the earth and seems to touch the sky. This tower, the epicenter of magical society, is the source of power that fuels the Arc of Radiance, protecting humanity from the demonic threat beyond Tarsynium.
I nearly trip on an uneven stone as I stare at the top of the tower, which is constantly spewing radiant energy into the air, becoming one with the Arc. I stumble but I do not fall, and silently berate myself for looking up at the Pillar like some uncultured bumpkin.
Shaking my head, I hurry my pace and walk past the armored guards, who are smirking at me beneath the visors of their helmets.
I approach the gates of the Conclave and pull in a smidge of energy, quickly flashing a sign of radiance with my hands. This shows the gatekeepers that I am an initiate, the spurt of blue light acting like credentials.
They nod and open the iron gates, allowing me to stride through without slowing my pace.
The inner courtyard at the base of the tower is beautifully manicured like the rest of the city, with blooming gardens and babbling fountains that add to the Conclave's beauty. The front doors, gargantuan and carved with intricate patterns, are standing open to allow streams of mages to flow in and out.
My bedraggled appearance draws more than a few stares from passersby but I ignore them, choosing instead to focus on my destination with my head held high.
The atrium of the tower is a great domed chamber with a series of fluted columns rising from the black marble floor to the ceiling. There are literally hundreds of them, all painted with different symbols and colors, and each varying widely in circumference. Some are as wide as ten people standing shoulder to shoulder, while others are the width of only a single individual.
From past experience I know that the great columns, or lifts as the mages often call them, can be overwhelming to newcomers, but after five years I am a veteran. I quickly locate a wide blue one with orange symbols painted on the side and make my way over to its base.
As I approach, a gentleman standing beside it looks me over with a bored expression. He holds a slate in his hands, blue mage robes covering his body. "Na
me?" He asks with an equally bored tone.
"Initiate Zara Dennel," I reply as authoritatively as I can muster. "I was told that Arch-Magister Tyrande wanted to see me." I straighten my tunic and try my best to act confident.
He glances down at his slate and nods, turning and pressing his hand against the wall of the column. Light blooms around his fingertips and a doorway opens up directly in front of me.
"Thank you," I say primly as I step inside.
He merely blinks at me and the door slides shut, leaving me alone in the cylindrical tube. I stand there for a moment, waiting in the darkness, when shimmering blue light suddenly blossoms beneath my feet. My stomach drops, signaling that I have begun to ascend up into the tower. There are no windows in the lift so it is impossible to tell how fast I am going, but it is not long before the door opens up again, depositing me on a completely different floor.
I step out and look around, finding myself in the foyer of an immaculate office wing.
"Initiate Dennel?" I hear my name coming from a delicate, sing-song voice. Turning, I see a blonde woman sitting behind a desk to my left in between two exotic-looking potted plants.
"Yes," I confirm, stepping up to the desk.
The woman, no doubt a secretary, is absolutely gorgeous, with perfect skin and a delicate nose. She stares at me with strikingly green eyes and smiles, revealing a mouth of straight, white teeth. "Arch-magister Tyrande is expecting you," she says. Her smile falters somewhat when she notices what I am wearing. "Should I let her know that you have arrived?"
Light, I think to myself, suddenly very self-conscious about my appearance. I really should have brought a change of clothes to the training grounds.
I brush a strand of hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear, smiling apologetically at her. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."
She nods and stands up. Then disappears down the hall, skirts swishing.
The foyer is lit with the glowing blue light of radiant lamps, set into sconces on the wall. They are an extravagant display of artifice, but are ultimately unnecessary, as the wide windows set into the far wall offer more than enough natural light to fill the room. I stand beside an uncomfortable-looking decorative couch, feeling terribly out of place in the impeccable environment as I wait for the secretary to return.
When she does, she smiles at me again and gestures for me to follow her. "Thank you for waiting. The Arch-magister will see you now."
She leads me down the hall to a door and knocks twice, eliciting a terse, "Enter," from the other side. She pushes the door open for me and I step inside.
Arch-magister Elva Tyrande sits behind a polished wooden desk in a room as sterile as the foyer outside. Behind her is a stunning view of the city, the curved glass window taking up nearly the entire wall, but I find that my eyes are drawn away from the cityscape and toward her instead.
The Arch-magister is a thin woman who sits with perfect posture in her high-backed chair. She has hawkish features and frosty blue eyes, and her short dark hair is perfectly coiffed in the latest fashion. She looks up from a stack of papers and fixes me with an appraising stare.
"Initiate Dennel, I presume? Please, girl, come in and sit. That will be all, Liana."
The secretary gives me an encouraging smile before closing the door, and I nervously move forward and sit in one of the chairs set before the desk. It feels as though the room is several degrees colder than the hall outside.
"It truly is an honor to meet you, Magus. I've always admired your achievements, and your leadership of the Circle." I wince at how shrill and timid my voice sounds.
"Yes, yes. Thank you, child. It is nice to meet you as well." Her reply is both dismissive and curt, her expression cool and unyielding. She sets down her pen and leans back, proceeding to look me up and down the way a cat might eye a rodent. "I wanted to meet you first-hand to see if the rumors were true."
"Rumors, Magus?"
"Rumors," she repeats, pursing her lips together thoughtfully.
I try not to squirm under her gaze as she looks me over, but eventually her lips curl up in a smile that does not reach her eyes. "Several of the professors at the Academy have informed me that you are at top of your class, excelling in spellcraft, theory and artifice. Is this true?"
I nod, but it still feels like I am being crushed under her commanding gaze.
"That is good. The Academy only accepts the best applicants in Tarsynium, and to distinguish yourself from those is quite an achievement indeed."
"Thank you, Magus."
"Call me Elva, dear. And I shall call you Zara. Is that acceptable?"
"Of course, Ma – Elva," I reply, though I try not to let my confusion show. Is that why she invited me here? To praise me for my academic achievements?
"You are probably wondering why I called you here," she says, as if reading my thoughts. She stands up from her desk and turns to look out of the window. Against the light of the sun, her narrow frame looks like a shadow.
I nod, even though her back is to me. "Yes, Elva," I respond. "The thought has crossed my mind."
"I have just received word from some of our field agents that there has been some sort of disturbance on the borders of the kingdom, in a region known as the Emberwood. I have been tasked by the Circle and the High Magus to take a team of mages out there in order to investigate." She turns her head and fixes me with a questioning look. "Would you be willing to accompany me?"
I have a difficult time keeping the shock from showing on my face. "Me? Go with you?"
"Yes," she replies coolly, turning back to look out over the city. "It is common for mages to choose wards to accompany them on important missions. It is seen as a way to prepare young initiates for full magehood within the Conclave. As the top candidate at the Academy, I can frankly think of no better choice to become my ward." She pauses for a moment then returns to her chair, turning her icy blue eyes back on me. "Do you accept, Initiate Dennel?"
Despite the nervous lump in my stomach, I act on impulse and say, "Yes."
Her mouth turns up in that same, knowing smile, as if she is amused by something in her own head. "Excellent," she says, picking up her pen and looking down at the papers in front of her. "We are leaving tonight. Pack whatever you feel is necessary for the journey and report back at the Pillar no less than an hour before sunset. You are dismissed."
Feeling a strange mixture of fear and excitement, I exit her office and begin making my frantic trip to my dormitory.
Light almighty, I think as I quickly walk to the lifts. What have I just agreed to?
Chapter Three
Owyn
Elias raises a skeptical eyebrow. "You saw a demon?" He sets his map aside and places a hand on his belt knife, squinting at the spot that I had indicated. “I don’t see anything.”
Again I scan the tree line, but the shadowy monstrosity is nowhere to be seen. “It was just over there," I insist, "looking at me from the trees. It had glowing red eyes, just like in the stories, and it was absolutely gigantic!”
My master unslings his bow and nocks an arrow without another word. He walks across the clearing and begins inspecting the trees on the other side. The man reminds me of a bloodhound, a master tracker in his element. As I stand there, watching him anxiously, I cannot help but envy his ability to scrutinize every detail of his surroundings.
To my dismay, Elias eventually looks back at me and shakes his head.
“There are no footprints, no tracks anywhere to be found,” he says, relaxing now that the supposed threat is gone. “A beast of that size would have left broken branches and crushed plants in its wake. I see no evidence that anything was here.”
My heart sinks. I feel like a complete fool. “There was something there,” I mumble lamely, looking away to avoid his stern gaze.
After a moment, Elias clears his throat. “I do not doubt that you think you saw something,” he says, gesturing at the rotting carcasses around us. “Sometimes our eyes can betray us, es
pecially when we find things like this. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, playing on the shadows of the trees.”
“Perhaps,” I reply, trying hard not to sound disappointed.
Elias gives the tree line one final look before shouldering his bow once again. “The Arc prevents demons from entering the kingdom. It has for a thousand years. Nobody has seen one in living memory. If you did see something, my guess would be that it was the predator that attacked these deer. There is a chance that it is still lurking about, I suppose.”
I nod, but in my mind's eye I can still see those ruby eyes staring at me from the darkness. They had given me the distinct impression that the creature wanted to do me harm.
Shaking my head, I try to change the subject to hide my embarrassment.
“Let’s get back to the horses,” I say, feigning nonchalance. “There are still a few hours of daylight left for us to ride.”
Elias eyes me for a moment before nodding as well.
Together we pick our way through the field of bodies and quickly mount our horses, riding away from the clearing and back toward Forest Hill.
We ride for the rest of the day without incident, traveling through the rough terrain on our way the largest settlement in the Emberwood. As the hours grow late the sun casts long shadows through the trees, and I have a difficult time thinking about anything else besides the dead deer and the creature that had been silently watching me.
It had to have been a demon, right? The stories all speak of their glowing red eyes.
But Elias is right. The mages had created the Arc a thousand years ago when the R'Laar had threatened to consume them all. No demons have been able to threaten Tarsynium since that time. Still, it is strange that I saw a monster at the same time we found a herd of slaughtered deer. Could such a thing have been my imagination?
Eventually the sun sinks below the horizon and Elias has us tether our horses beside a small, babbling stream. Even for rangers, it is dangerous to go riding at night. We begin setting up camp as we have done countless times before, gathering wood, lighting a fire, and clearing a space for our bedrolls. They are menial tasks, but I find comfort in losing myself in the work.
Ranger's Oath Page 2
