First Year (28 page)

“Our turn will come soon enough,” I pointed out.

Too soon,
I added silently, pulling my covers as far as they would reach. Tucked in a cocoon of blankets, I tried to ease my racing mind. There was no point in studying late this evening. I was too nervous.

Bidding Ella goodnight, I willed myself to dream.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

My family arrived early the next morning looking much better rested than any of my class. Since the first four hours of the Alchemy trials were not for public viewing we took a tour of the village instead. Most visiting families did the same, and this time Alex and I were able to tell our parents and Derrick a bit more about our experiences at the Academy. When we returned to the school around noon, a quarter of the nobility, including the Crown, was noticeably absent.

Derrick, of all people, was the one to offer up an explanation. He had overheard conversations the day before, and he explained that the first half of the Alchemy trials actually
was
viewable—for a price.

Usually first-year trials were held in the training field to accommodate a large audience. For the brewing stages of Alchemy, however, students needed certain accommodations. As a result, seating in the upstairs laboratory was awarded to the highest bidder. Nobility paid handsomely for the inevitable advantage an experience like that bought.

After the afternoon meal, I followed my family to the raised seating bordering the Academy field. Anyone who wasn’t participating was allowed to watch. I probably should have been preparing for my own trial two days away, but the appeal of watching the culmination of everyone’s efforts was too tempting to ignore. The rest of the factions shared the same opinion. Not one of us was absent.

A loud span of clapping erupted, and I looked back to the grass. Master Barclae and the twelve students of Alchemy had arrived. Each first-year carried a small wooden crate filled with flasks of differing colors and sizes. Some liquids were translucent and bubbling. Others were thicker and more mysterious in nature. I spotted Ruth near the end of the row, looking as pale as a ghost with bloodshot eyes and dark circles beneath. Everyone in her faction looked equally distraught.

Did they realize how hard everyone had worked to be here today?
Whether any of us won an apprenticeship or not, the forty-three students left had beaten impossible odds to last this long. We had carried on at all costs. A wager was a cruel way to measure that sacrifice.

“My dearest friends,” Barclae spoke, his voice resonating across the field. “We will now commence the second half of the Alchemy trials. For the next four hours, Master Ascillia will be naming one desired casting every thirty minutes. Students’ potions will be judged on their ability to produce a desired outcome. The judges and I will evaluate each first-year’s draught, apply the necessary remedies, and then continue on to the next. No scores or remarks will be given aloud for any of the trials. Only on the seventh day will our decisions be made public during the official naming ceremony.”

Barclae took a couple steps forward so that he could join the Three on their bench in front of the first row adjacent the king and his two sons. They had a small table in front of their bench with rolls of parchment and writing ink.

Master Ascillia stepped forward. “Paralysis.” Her voice boomed and crackled across the rows of seating so that everyone could hear.

Twelve nervous first-years reached down into the crates they had carried in and pulled out a small vial no bigger than my palm. I saw Ruth shudder as she swallowed her own concoction, and then watched as everyone else did the same. Each one of them seemed nervous. I wondered if it was because they wanted their results to be the most effective or the least.

Minutes ticked by. The students stood underneath the bright sunlight, sweating and nervously eyeing one another’s progress. Nothing happened at first, but then some of the audience began to murmur amongst themselves.

A loud thud sounded. And then another. And another. Slowly, in the course of five minutes, each first-year of Alchemy dropped to the grass, shaking spastically, almost uncontrollably, while their eyes stared blankly up at the sky.

I watched in horror as the bodies continued to twitch, and then held my breath as the spasms stopped completely.

Twelve motionless bodies were sprawled out across the field.

Excitement rose in the audience. The first two rows began to point and shout, naming the students they had placed bets after.

Ten minutes later one of the first-year bodies began to shake violently. The boy coughed, and his tremors abruptly ceased.

Slowly, the boy rose. Tears fell silently as he took in the immobile first-years around him.

Two nobles in the second row violently tossed their wine skins to the ground.

The boy had placed last in the first round of the Alchemy trials. That much was clear.

The final ten minutes of the round commenced. Five more students rose unhappily before time had ended. When the judges came forward to examine the remaining young men and women, Ruth was one of the six that had stayed the effects of her potion’s enchantment.

The green-and-red-robed judges administered healing magic in their own faction’s manner. The Green Mage, leader of Alchemy, tipped a small flask of discernible clear liquid down the throats of four first-years nearest. The Red Mage, leader of Restoration, knelt down to touch the throats of the two remaining students.

Immediately, the four students that had been cured by potion sat up coughing and spewing blood and the remnants of their brews. The two first-years cured by touch began to tremble, pouring pools of sweat as their body emptied itself of poisonous toxin.

Ruth, I noticed, took the longest to stand. Some of the audience were whispering excitedly, and I wondered if my friend had won. Maybe she had, but without the judges’ commentary, seven more rounds to go, and then the oral exams later on, I had no way of knowing whether Ruth would be one of the five to earn an apprenticeship. Only time would tell.

The Alchemy trials continued for the next three and a half hours. There were two more self-inflicted draughts, one for aging and another for sleep. The aging potion’s effects were unnerving to watch: twelve first-years took on sagging skin and hair loss, taut arms became feeble and weak, and everyone was instantly shorter in stature. The sleeping draught was uneventful. All I heard were snores. The peaceful look on the participants’ faces left many in the audience yawning inadvertently.

The last five concoctions were intended for battle. Five potions were summoned, one by one: liquid fire, fortify metal—they were given blades for the demonstration—toxic sludge, exploding earth, and choking gas. The judges stood close by to rectify the results as first-years occasionally collapsed from their own doing.

At times it was hard to watch the students throw down their bottles, knowing that something dreadful awaited them once the fumes were released. The only casting I was left with questions after was the oil they had used to reinforce their swords. They didn’t test the blades, though the metal had seemed to shine and grow heavier upon contact. The judges had collected the weaponry for further examination later on, and so the audience was unable to ascertain who had succeeded in that particular act.

Overall, most of the students did very well. Ruth had stood out in five of the eight tests. I wondered how she was feeling. Master Ascillia came forward to escort the twelve first-years off the field. The class had looked terrible when they started, but now after the completion of their first trial, they looked like walking death. It left a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I wondered how I would feel in two days when it was my turn instead.

The following day, I watched the nine remaining first-years of Restoration live out eight hours that were, if possible, worse than the previous days’ castings. Alex, James, and the others had drawn from the same marble statuettes that Ella and I would be using to decide the pairings for our faction’s trial. The first-year that did not have a matching figurine was given Master Cedric as a partner, which was a good thing because the man would not be participating and, therefore, not need to cure his associate’s ailments.

Alex had warned us what would happen if you were paired with the best, and unfortunately, my brother appeared to be living his worst nightmare out there on the field. He’d done well during his turn casting. He’d cured increasingly difficult maladies, ranging from swelling to deep, gashing wounds that were horrific to watch. He’d stumbled a bit, during the healing of black frost burn, and his session had ended with his performance putting him on par with the three pairs of students that had come before.

His partner, a quiet boy of dark, black braids and almond eyes, proved to be my brother’s undoing. Alex had been good, but the boy was better—
much
better. The boy’s turn had barely begun, and within twenty minutes Alex had already suffered severe cuts, blackening frost, intense burns, a concussion, and a heightened state of paralysis. His partner continued to cure as fast as the ailments were cast by the judges. The dark-haired boy never faltered, and he was cut off at the end of his forty-five minutes without so much as a blunder the entire act. Certainly, the boy looked as out of breath and exhausted as the students that had gone prior, but he had also doubled the outcome of everyone else’s casting.

Half the audience stood after Alex’s partner had finished, and the air was found with enthusiastic shouts and the thundering of clapping. “Ronan!” The audience kept repeating the dark-haired boy’s name.

Poor Alex looked miserable beside the new champion of Restoration. While I pitied my twin, I silently acknowledged that Alex was lucky still. He had a one in two chance that he would make his faction’s cut.

The final pair to present was James and Master Cedric. Sadly, Ella’s shy admirer did not fare so well. While he was clearly trying, James could not cure beyond the fourth ailment. It was a surprise the boy had lasted as long as he had, and I wondered how much of that had to do with my dark-skinned friend. If he hadn’t been so infatuated with Ella, would James—who was clearly not cut out for a lifetime of hardship—would he really have stayed the course?

The Restoration trials ended. Same as the day before, the retiring first-years looked incredibly ill as they followed Master Cedric off the field to the Academy.

“Tomorrow is you, right?” Derrick asked me, staring after our brother.

“Yes.” My stomach curdled at the prospect. I felt faint and dizzy, and apprehension was in every breath that I took.

Ella and I said farewell to our families shortly after, and when we returned to our barracks, we both glanced at each other wordlessly.

We had done everything we could to prepare ourselves for what lie ahead. It was a hard truth to admit, but there was nothing more we could do.

“Good luck, Ryiah,” Ella said, eyes unusually bright.

I swallowed. “You too.”

“It’ll all be over soon,” she promised, voice catching.

I nodded, and then lay down in bed, preparing for a night of restless sleep.

All twenty-two of us stood in the grand atrium of the Academy. Each of us held in our hands the small marble figurine that would be deciding our fate. Master Barclae and the Three Colored Robes were explaining which statuette would indicate first, and which would end the final round of our tourney. We made eleven pairs.

I glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else had gotten any sleep. All of our families, the king and his visiting court, and even the realm’s mages were waiting outside to watch us duel for the chance at an apprenticeship.

In the palm of my hand was the tiny carving of a fox.

Master Barclae called each token’s name forward, starting with the rabbit and ending with the wolf. Ella and Jake were both first, having each selected a rabbit. Eve and William were next, the serpent. Ray, the talented lowborn boy from Darren’s following, and I had the fox. Next went the fish, the lion, the bird—Priscilla and one of her friends, Jade, a tall girl with dark blue eyes and endless lashes—the boar, the dog, the buck, the horse, and, finally, the wolf: Darren and Clayton.

We lined up in pairs and followed Master Barclae and the rest of his panel down the long corridors and beaten path that led onto the Academy field. As we took our place at the far end of the grass, Master Barclae came forward, leading Jake and Ella to the center of the field so that the audience could see with whom the first match would take place.

The crowd began to chant. “COMBAT! COMBAT!” And then shrieks and hollers filled the air. This was what everyone had been waiting for: the most prestigious faction, the mages of the black robe.

I watched, helplessly, as my best friend twisted and dodged a giant, spinning whirlwind of flame.

Jake held a devious smile as he lodged another at my friend. This time Ella wasn’t quite so fast, and part of her tunic caught fire as she scrambled to get out of the way. She barely managed to put out the flames when Jake sent a third fire careening her way.

Ella threw out a blast so strong it knocked the flames aside. She sent the fire spiraling back, and without hesitation, Ella cast out a storm of blades, launching them with all her might.

Jake only just managed to throw up his shield. A second later and he would have been mauled.

The two had been exchanging crippling blows for the past thirty minutes. With every second I was growing more and more anxious. Any of my own anxiety had been displaced in the onslaught of my friend’s duel.

It was exhilarating to see all that Ella had learned in a year. At the mid-year tourney Ella had not used half the castings she was using now. She was faring well, and even though she was quickly reaching the end of her stamina, she was still putting up a fight that Jake was struggling to put out.

BOOM! A blast of Ella’s magic split open the ground beneath the boy, effectively doing to Jake what he and William had done to that poor boy during hazing. Jake fell.