Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1) (11 page)

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A
fter an hour and a half of History, they gladly left their chairs to hurry to their first Arcana class. Excited chatter surrounded them as they travelled down the hallway, everybody bragging about what they would be able to do by the end of the year; call down lightning from cloudless skies; rip trees from the ground using only their mind; conjure winds to block a rain of arrows. They’d all heard stories about famous wizards since they were kids, and each and every one of them were going to be even greater than the heroes.

Everything changed when they walked into Professor Moncha’s classroom. She stood in front of a blackboard full of rules, stern and strict, her mouth puckered and hair pulled back in a tight bun, she looked like she was sucking on a sour candy and surprised to find it in her mouth.

Her room was neat and organized, with everything carefully locked behind glass doors in a series of cabinets along the wall.

“Forget everything you heard in stories because we won’t be doing any of it in my class,” said Professor Moncha as an introduction to her class.

She explained that they would not be doing anything complicated in her class. Instead the focus would be on learning to control their Gifts so they wouldn’t lose control in a state of emotional distress and hurt those around them.

She spent the entire class telling them what they weren’t going to be doing in her class. The one thing that Donovan did learn from her introduction was that magic was considered a gift from the Brothers. Similar to the Brothers’ approach to creating the world, it could be used to create or alter the world around you, but could never unmake something, nor be used to enhance the user.

After lunch, Donovan headed off to find the library while the rest of the group headed to Arithmetic. Crossing over to the other building, he saw that it was a clear, bright day, before heading back inside and descending into the gloomy basement.

He found the library right where Professor Cleary had told him it would be. He hesitated outside the closed door, nervous despite being told that students had access to it. Opening the door, he saw row upon row of books, separated by narrow aisles. A few small tables sat in private nooks around the perimeter.

Donovan wasn’t looking for anything in particular at this time, he was merely familiarizing himself with the library until Martial training started in an hour and a half. Walking down the aisles, he ran his fingers along the dusty spines as he read them, and discovered that it was laid out by subject. History books filled a row of shelves along one wall, while the various arcane books occupied four entire rows of shelves. He couldn’t figure out the organizational system within each category and made a mental note to ask Professor Cleary the next time that he saw him.

Pulling down a book from the arcane section at random,
Advanced Transfiguration of Crystalline Materials
, he skimmed through the pages and quickly realized that while he knew each individual word written in the book, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the instructions in the book. Returning it to the shelf, he continued to wander, dry eyed and coughing from the dry, dusty environment. He quickly lost track of time in the windowless room, the only light came from the glass spheres hanging from the ceiling. Checking the clock hanging in the hallway, which somehow kept accurate time despite having no obvious pendulum swinging back and forth. Twenty minutes until their first class in Martial training. His schedule said to meet in the main courtyard, so he made his way outside to stretch before class begun, enjoying a surprisingly pleasant September afternoon.

Professor Sarlic Severn waddled into the courtyard ahead of the rest of the students. He resembled a wolverine, stocky and muscular with a permanent scowl carved into his face. He waddled around, barely bending the knees on his stubby legs, arms puffed out from his sides. The top of his head was bald, and looked freshly polished, and he had a close trimmed goatee around his mouth and chin.

He stopped at a seemingly arbitrary spot in the courtyard, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out and eyes looking straight ahead. He stood there motionless as the students began lining up in front of him.

“Everybody shut your mouths,” boomed Professor Severn. The silence in the courtyard was absolute, even the wind held its breath. “My name is Professor Severn. You will all address me as Professor Severn at all times. Is that understood?”

That was met with a smattering of replies.

“I asked if you understood what I said.”

“Yes” came a chorus of voices.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Professor Severn,” came the boisterous response from the students.

“That’s better,” he said, beginning to look each student up and down as he continued to speak. “This is the simplest class that you’ll ever take here at Haven. You will all listen when I talk. None of you will talk unless I acknowledge you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor Severn.”

“You will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it.”

Kort raised his hand. Guessing his intentions, Donovan tried to pull Kort’s arm down, but he shook him off.

“Do you have a question?” asked Severn, standing directly in front of Kort.

“Yes, Professor Severn,” said Kort, loudly. “I was wondering if you would instruct us when to breathe because I have been breathing without permission, sir.”

“Let me allay your fears,” said Severn with a trace of a smile. “Drop to your belly and start doing pushups. As long as you’re doing pushups, you do not need to worry about your breathing. NOW GET DOWN.”

Kort slowly bent down and began doing pushups.

“Right now, you are all vermin and thieves in my eye,” said Severn addressing the class once more, “but don’t despair. I’m going to teach you discipline, even if I have to beat it into you. Now, most of you are going to go home to your mamas and spend the rest of your miserable lives on a farm or working in a warehouse, and never touch a sword in your life. That’s why I’m not going to waste my time teaching it to you. I’m going to teach you something that will be more practical. I will teach you how to use a staff because even useless scum can find a stick if their life depends upon it.”

He walked over to a stand with numerous staffs leaning against it. “You can stop doing pushups ... and feel free to breathe whenever you feel it necessary,” he said to Kort. “Today’s lesson is to learn how to hold a staff. You can all come over here and take one before spreading out into three rows.”

The students eagerly complied, excited to learn how to use a real weapon. Professor Severn demonstrated the correct grip and walked along the rows confirming that everyone was holding their staff correctly.

“Good, now hold it out in front of you.” He demonstrated by holding his staff out in front of his chest, parallel to the ground. “Now hold it there.”

Professor Severn lowered his own staff and stood watching the class for several minutes, before returning his staff to the stand and sitting down on a stone bench in the shade of the wall.

The pleasant afternoon quickly lost its pleasantness. After several minutes everybody was starting to sweat. Many students had questions they wanted to ask Professor Severn, but glancing around, they could see that nobody dared to speak first.

Fifteen minutes in and Delaney’s arms started to shake. Ravyn gave her encouraging words out of the corner of her mouth, but it was obvious that Delaney’s spindly arms wouldn’t hold up.

Delaney’s struggles raised the spirits of most of the class. They no longer worried about being the first to drop.

A few minutes later, Delaney’s arms dropped to her side, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Professor Severn was there in an instant, as if by magic. “Did I tell you to put it down?” he asked in a compassionate tone.

Delaney shook her head.

“Then why did you put it down?” he asked, menace growing in his voice. “Well, I’m sure that you tried your best.”

Delaney nodded vigorously, tears streaming onto the ground.

“I can’t ask for any more than your best, right? Why don’t you go inside and rest for the remainder of the class?”

Delaney returned her staff to the stand and headed towards the building.

“Another pitiful performance and you’ll wish that you had never come here,” roared Severn.

Delaney broke into a run and fled inside.

Severn surveyed the rest of the students, a smirk etched on his face. Turning around he headed towards the bench.

He hadn’t taken three steps when Donovan’s staff clattered to the ground.

Severn spun, hatred in his eyes. “Did I give you permission to drop that?” he yelled, pointing at the staff at Donovan’s feet.

“No, sir,” said Donovan, calmly.

“Then why is it on the ground?”

“It must have slipped, sir,”

“Then pick it up.”

Donovan bent down and reached for the staff. Severn grabbed his arm, and flung him forward onto his face. “Did you slip?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” answered Donovan, getting back to his feet.

“Then I had better help you with your coordination.” Severn bent down and picked up the staff. “We’ll start by running laps.”

“Yes, sir.”

Donovan began running laps around the perimeter of the courtyard, Severn kept pace a few feet behind him, staff held tightly in his right hand. Donovan set a comfortable pace which he hoped he could maintain until Professor Severn lost interest.

Severn seemed content to let Donovan set the pace. Around and around they went, leaving a faint trail of sweat behind them. Every time they passed in front of the other students, both turned their heads to see how they were doing. It seemed that Donovan’s punishment had buoyed the students’ spirits, and distracted them from the growing pain in their arms. Everyone was still standing strong, eyes tracking Donovan as he passed.

Their strength helped energize Donovan as well. He force his breathing into a rhythmic pattern as he continued to jog, chased by Severn’s heavy breath at every turn.

“Faster,” yelled Severn, jabbing Donovan in the center of the back with the staff.

Donovan stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, but regained his balance at the last moment. Picking up the pace, he looked back at Severn, his stubby legs waddling along after him. Speeding up some more, he quickly outpaced Severn. Not daring to look behind him, he continued his circuit around the courtyard.

Turning the corner to make his way in front of the class, he saw Professor Severn standing there, waiting patiently. Donovan was about to run past Severn when suddenly, something hard bashed into his shins, dropping him violently onto his stomach. His face bounced off the ground, and his nose started dripping blood.

“A hundred pushups,” barked Severn, glaring down at Donovan, staff in hand.

Donovan spared him a single look of contempt before starting his pushups. His legs were on fire and his breath had left him when he fell, but he refused to give up.

This continued for the remainder of the class. Donovan refused to give up and quit, Severn graciously had him switch to another exercise when it became obvious that Donovan couldn’t continue, and the rest of the students stood there, staffs held out in front of them, for the entire class.

“Class is over,” boomed Severn. “It was a pitiful start, but it’ll get better. Everybody return your weapons to the stand before you leave.”

Donovan wearily got back to his feet and reached out an arm towards Professor Severn.

“What do you want?”

“I need to return my weapon to the stand.” Donovan swore that he saw a glint of admiration in Severn’s eyes when he handed over the staff. Using it as a walking stick, he made his way over to the stand, where he saw Ravyn and Caddaric waiting for him.

“Tough luck,” said Caddaric smirking. “Next time you should think about what you’re doing before you do it.”

Donovan wearily leaned his staff on the stand before turning to face Caddaric. “Would everybody have been able to last the entire class if I didn’t?” Donovan pressed his thumb against one side of his nose and blew, spraying mucous and blood onto the ground, before he slowly made his way back to his room.

D
onovan got up early the next morning to head down for breakfast with everyone else. Entering the hall in the basement, Caddaric veered off to join a table with his new friends who greeted him with smile and salutations.

Ravyn, Delaney, Kort and Donovan made their way to the serving stations at the back of the room. Heaping fried eggs and toast onto his plate, Donovan followed the rest to a quiet table in the corner near the fireplace.

Delaney sat at the corner of the table, where she could watch all of the people in the room. She begun to eat her breakfast like a squirrel, stuffing her mouth full of food, then furtively watching the room while she chewed.

“To surviving the first day,” said Donovan, raising his glass of orange juice. He had a small cut on his cheek and a couple of bruises, but otherwise was none the worse for wear.

“And to many more,” said Kort, clinking glasses.

“Could you keep it down?” said Ravyn, nose buried in a math book she’d borrowed from the library.

“What’s your problem?” asked Donovan.

“Yeah,” chimed in Kort, “it’s only been one day. We don’t even have any homework.”

“It’s never too early to start preparing.” She gave them a glare before returning to her book.

Donovan and Kort shared a knowing look, and decided that it was too early in the day to get her worked up, so they finished their breakfasts in silence.

Donovan stood up to leave the hall.

“Where are you going so early?” asked Kort. “You don’t even have class first period.”

“Got to get my exercise.” Donovan started to head out of the hall. “Otherwise Professor Severn will make it his responsibility to get me into shape.” Many students looked up as he passed and had a quiet chuckle with their neighbors, but a few gave him encouraging nods.

Climbing the stairs, he headed out into the chilly morning air. The frost shone on the grass and a few of the leaves were starting to change color. Reaching the tree in the middle of the quad, he saw that Osmont wasn’t there yet. Pacing around the tree, blowing on his hands to keep them warm, he waited.