The Black Mage: Apprentice (31 page)

Needless to say the two were at an
uncomfortable impasse.

Still, I had to think animosity was better
than guilt. Ella could at least channel her frustration into her
castings. With my fifth-year mentor I had already made a fool of
myself holding back in a misguided attempt to spare him. Two times
during the morning's non-magic sparring I had received a stiff
reprimand from Byron and an unpleasant bruise where my new
partner's blows had landed.

I vowed not to let pity affect my actions for
the rest of the afternoon. The last thing I needed was for the
Master of Combat to assume I'd gone soft.

Taking a deep breath, I took my place beside
Ella, shifting my feet into a comfortable stance as I faced off
against the sandy-haired fifth-year fifteen feet across from
me.

Ian met my eyes without expression. He hadn't
said a word to me since our unfortunate pairing. Not that I could
blame him. The last time we'd exchanged a full sentence I had
broken his heart and subsequently ended our friendship.

Not unlike what Darren did to me.

I shoved the thought away as soon as it came.
I wouldn't,
couldn't
think about the non-heir now. Not
unless I wanted to spend the rest of the day fighting back tears.
And I was done crying. I'd had three weeks of that during our
travel from the palace to the Academy and then back again. If
anything, that experience taught me exactly how heartless I had
been to Ian.

I deserved the fifth-year's silence.

But it made things extremely awkward. Mentors
and mentees were supposed to trade advice and feedback.
Suggestions. It wasn't exactly possible if you weren't speaking to
one another.

"And begin. Mentors:
ice
!"

I barely had time to throw up my defense. In
the blink of an eye Ian had cast out an onslaught of icicles.
Sharp, spinning torrents of water tore into the metal shield I had
cast. An unfortunate choice. Within seconds the casting had frozen
the metal and sent a chilling burn down my arm.

Ian released his casting just as I dropped my
shield to the floor. My whole arm stung. Stupid, stupid,
stupid
. I knew better than to cast iron against ice. My
guilt was going to ruin my training if I kept forgetting to
think
. Ian could handle himself – any feelings of ill will
were buried behind a stone wall of silence.

It was me that needed to focus.

Massaging my arm I forced myself to
straighten back up and take in the rest of the class around me. I
was relieved to see I wasn't the only one who had cast metal… but
then it came to my attention that the only mentees foolish enough
were second-years. The rest of my year had used fire.

I nodded to Ian for him to start again and
then cast out a barrier of flames. At that exact moment Byron
called out "Wind!"

I barely had time to fall back before a huge
gust of fire came sweeping toward me. Ian ceased his attack
immediately but it was too late for my pride. I could hear
Priscilla's tittering laughter a couple spots down.

I turned my head to glare at the girl and
immediately regretted it when I noticed the non-heir watching
me.

My pulse stopped.

I couldn't breath.

I couldn't think.

I couldn't
move
.

"Keep drilling, apprentices, I didn't tell
you to gawk!"

What was wrong with me?
I swallowed
the bitter taste in my mouth and made myself block out everything
but the green-eyed fifth-year directly across from me. My mentor's
blank expression gave no hint to his feelings. If he was secretly
pleased I was making a fool of myself in today's lessons, he gave
no sign of it.

"Fire!"

At least this time I was ready. Before the
flames had even traveled half the distance between us I had a
spiraling tunnel of sand chasing across the field to squelch them.
There was the sizzling hiss as sand collided with fire and then a
loud clap as the flames died.

The remains of sand sprayed across Ian and
the mentors closest.

Several of them – including Bryce - shouted
insults. They stopped their own castings to brush sand off their
clothes and skin, glowering. Master Byron issued the command to
stop and then came barreling down the field to rest directly in
front of me.

"
Have you lost all common sense,
apprentice
? I told you to defend yourself – not show off in
front of the entire faction! You are supposed to conserve your
castings!
Conserve
!" He took a deep, exaggerated huff. "Your
little display just cost you an unnecessary amount of magic. Flashy
casting doesn't win a war – the mages fool enough to use it will be
long dead while the rest of the enemy mages are left standing!"

Why me?
If I had been anyone else
Byron would have seen fit to offer a short rebuke and move on. But
never with me.

"Yes, sir."

"If you can't control your castings then you
don't belong in Combat."

I stayed silent.

With a satisfied grunt the master retired to
his post near the second-years and called out his next
command. Byron remained there for the rest of the exercise. Not
once did his hawk eyes leave my face.

****

By the time our drills had ended I was ready
to collapse. As soon as we were dismissed Ian brushed past me in a
hurry to spend as little time together as possible. Ella joined me
in my slow march to the commons. My friend knew better than to say
anything. Instead, she linked elbows and sighed loudly.

Students hurried past us, eager to beat the
others to the evening meal. Ella and I took our time. This year was
different and neither of us had been prepared for how much.

When Byron had first announced our new city
was Devon I had thought it a joke. A very cruel, very pointed
joke.

And then, after we returned from picking up
the second-years, I'd found out he was serious.

We really
were
in Devon.

The capital was different. Ishir Outpost and
Port Langli were important, but neither of them could compare to a
regiment ten times their size. The Crown's Army trained, if it was
at all possible, harder than anyone else.

The army was so large the capital had built
four training arenas – a small one inside the palace walls for the
King's Regiment, and three much bigger grounds outside the township
where the army's soldiers, knights, and mages spent their days
endlessly drilling until they were called upon for service. It was
a good ten-mile ride east of the palace. The site housed an
enormous armory, an equally large stable, two bathhouses, two
outhouses, a giant cook's camp, and an impressive expanse of tented
housing just south of its arenas.

It was the city regiment we had the highest
chance of being placed in after our ascension. That was the first
thing Byron had told us when we arrived the night before. It was
for that reason alone I had dried my eyes, taken a deep breath, and
told myself to forget the past three weeks.

I needed to toughen up quick, or risk
becoming the laughingstock of not just my faction but the Crown's
Army.

That, and I was done with my body's
traitorous reaction any time the prince looked at me. I couldn't
survive two more years of this apprenticeship if I let myself feel.
I was done with misery. I would
not
let my learning be
squandered by a broken heart.

"Ry! Ella! What took you two so long?"

I made a face at my twin. "It's been a long
day." Alex was already seated on one of the outdoor tables with a
mountain of noodles piled high on his plate. Beside him sat a
couple of his factionmates and Loren and Ray – none of which had
half the servings my brother did.

Ella's mouth hung open in shock. "You know
the cook has to feed the whole camp, right?"

Alex grinned. "Only the ones that arrive on
time. After that it's fair game."

I snatched a roll off his plate before he
could stop me. "After that we'll just take it from you."

My twin rolled his eyes and then changed the
subject. "How was casting? Loren was just telling me Byron yelled
at you in front of the entire faction."

"How is that different from any other
day?"

Alex didn't let it go. "What did you do?" He
lowered his voice. "Please tell me you finally gave the prince the
thrashing he deserves-" My brother didn't get to finish. Ella had
elbowed him, hard, in the chest.

I stared at the sky in frustration. I wanted
to move on. I did. But no matter how hard I tried there was always
something or someone there to remind me. Alex knew this, of course.
Since the ascension ceremony he had tried to keep his outrage to a
minimum, but it still slipped out whenever he wasn't careful.

Alex swallowed guiltily. "Sorry, Ry."

I stood up, ready to fill up a plate of my
own and leave the uncomfortable exchange behind. "Don't be. If I
couldn't be imprisoned for attacking a king's son I probably would
have done just that." I left the table without waiting for a
response.

****

A flurry of days, and then weeks, swept past
before I even had a chance to catch my breath. I quickly got used
to the stifling conditions of Devon's giant training camp and the
constant presence of the king's court in our early morning
practices. I even got used to interpreting the stony silence of my
mentor.

I avoided the prince at all costs.

Before noon every day Byron had us wielding
axes. They were the weapon of choice for the Crown's Army, which
meant they were what we spent the majority of time training
with.

Out of all the battleaxes, we drilled with
the poleaxe and halberd most. The training master was quick to
point out how easily they could break enemy lines. We spent most of
our days nursing wounds from slashed mail or dented armor.

When we weren't drilling on the ground we did
it as cavalry. Against one partner or a cluster of them. The axes
made a formidable opponent against crowds. In other words, Bryon
was quick to note, their haft was ideal for mass attacks on
horseback.

We learned when it was better to bludgeon and
slash, when to thrust with the spike's head, and how to disarm an
enemy in a slight of hand.

It was an endless cycle of drilling, but by
the end of the second week I had no reservations going up against
Ian. He was a formidable opponent – being the son of a blacksmith
brought many advantages - and any time I had caught myself holding
back I quickly received a painful reminder why that was a
mistake.

Ian still wasn't talking to me. But he
treated me like an equal. If he had really wanted to hurt me he
could have held back in his attacks. There was nothing worse for a
warrior's training than an easy teacher, and for that I was
grateful.

Our mid-day lessons were spent in one of the
camp's largest tents. Crown's Army meetings were held inside the
palace walls but for our training purposes the tents would do.
Local command – including Eve's father, Commander Audric - and even
the Colored Robes made an appearance from time to time to assist
with lecture. Most of the military's special strategies were
released on a need-to-know basis (especially given the recent rebel
activity) but the officials did give us plenty of other things to
consider.

The majority of the time the men and women of
the Crown's Army stayed on base training, enforcing Crown Law, and
assisting Devon's local farmers. Only a small grouping (in
comparison to their actual number; I hardly considered one thousand
men – the size of Port Langli's local regiment - "small") regularly
patrolled the countryside. The army was too expensive to house in
the capital so the camp was at the city's outskirts.

The soldiers who resided in camp took care of
its upkeep and any services that needed rendering. Units took turns
cooking and cleaning, hunting and building to keep the costs to a
minimum. Still, the commander made it clear the army's salaries
alone ate away at the Crown's coffers. Housing a large army was an
incredibly expensive feat, and it was easy to see why the king
considered Caltoth's frugality suspicious.

While we didn't get to learn as many
specifics as I had hoped, the leaders did spend a lot of time
addressing each mage's role in the event of a siege. Devon was the
most important city of Jerar, and as such there were certain tasks
that needed to be seen to first.

I was so distracted with all of our learning
that I almost forgot about what was coming.

Ella was quick to remind me. "The mock
battle, Ry, it's tomorrow." Three months had passed in the blink of
an eye. I was so stupefied I almost fell out of my chair.

To calm my frazzled nerves my friend
suggested we spend an evening outside of the barracks… Which was
exactly how Ella, Alex, and I found ourselves in one of Devon's
local taverns the night before the big match.

Interestingly enough we weren't alone. Half
the factions' apprentices and some of the Crown's Army were already
crowding the tables by the time we arrived. "The Lusty Wench" was,
apparently, a local favorite.

Waiting for the others to get back with the
drinks I pulled out Derrick's most recent letter and read:

Dearest sister (and Alex who never writes
back – for shame!),

I'm a soldier! I know, I know, you never had
any doubt but it is still such a relief to be out of Demsh'aa for
good! I love our parents dearly but I believe the three of us have
all seen enough herbs to last a lifetime, eh?

They already have us stationed along the
northern border… I've only been here two months but it is has
quickly become evident the instructors weren't exaggerating.
There's already been two raids since we arrived! Both times I was
asleep, and by the time my section of the barracks was awoken the
enemy was gone.