The Black Mage: Apprentice (40 page)

"Feeling nostalgic?" Darren appeared beside
me, peering over the balcony rails at the white landscape beneath.
I started. I hadn't even noticed him enter.

"I spent so much time dreaming about becoming
a mage." My words were barely a whisper. "I don't think I'll know
what to do with myself when it becomes real."

"I doubt that." The prince's expression was
wry. "I think the second you are ranked, the commanders will all be
scrambling to give you a spot in their regiment."

That was the second time someone had told me
that. I still didn't believe it. "I hardly think that will be the
case."

"I do."

An awkward silence followed and then Darren
cleared his throat. "I never got a chance to ask," he said quietly,
"how you were faring. After the battle."

"Are you asking me now?"

"I am."

"I'm fine." I couldn't think of what else to
say. Anything else felt like a betrayal.

"I'm glad." I made the mistake of meeting his
eyes and saw… I'm not sure what I saw. My emotions were running so
wild I couldn't trust myself. Every inch of me was screaming at his
proximity and my skin was fighting to make contact.

"Thank you…" I swallowed. "For coming back
for me that day. I'm sorry about Eve… I know she meant a lot to
you."

"She..." I could hear the break in his voice
as he said it. "She didn't deserve to die. Not for me."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I." Now he sounded angry and his eyes
were flaring crimson. "Her death will not go unpunished."

"What are you going to do?"

"When I returned to Devon, I met with my
father. The Council and his advisors have been adverse to take
action but this time it's different. The Caltothians have grown
bold – sending that many men to attack our key northern post. Our
men and women depend on that forest for lumber and now a quarter of
it is burned to the ground. The daughter of the Crown's Army
command is dead. Several of the regiment? Dead. You and I were
almost killed." He clenched his fist. "I admit the nobles could
look the other way while half of Jerar is destroyed – they are that
opposed to war - but they can do little to ignore Father after he
found out his own son was almost murdered."

I bit my lip. "So we are going to war?" The
Great Compromise had been in place for almost a century. It seemed
impossible.

Darren looked away. "As soon as my brother
and I secure our marriage dowries to finance his army."

Oh
. How could I have forgotten? It
must have been because he was standing so close to me, eyes burning
like fire. Robbing me of the last year and a half. Darren was still
Darren. Just because he was kind did not mean he loved me, or that
he wasn't a prince. It didn't matter how he looked at me. Nothing
had changed.

****

That same night I arrived at my chambers and
shut the door softly behind me. It was only after I heard the lock
click into place that I let myself breathe. I felt myself slip to
the floor, fingers tracing the wooden panels above as my heart
pounded traitorously hard in my chest.

Why did I do this to myself? Why did he
have to be kind? Why couldn't he be cruel?
It wasn't fair.
Darren had broken my heart. And he was continuing to shatter it
every time he looked at me.

We couldn't be friends. We couldn't be
enemies.

So what were we?

****

It was the worst winter I could remember. We
could see every breath we took. Thick, dense white frost took over
our sight. Ella and I were beyond miserable.

Then we were deployed in one of the keep's
regular patrols.

"What do you mean, we have to camp in the
snow?" my friend whispered, outraged. She was smart enough not to
speak in Master Byron's presence, of course.

"For this next week I want you to go
completely without using your magic,"
the training master had
said.
"Absolutely no casting. Unless we come across a raid, I
want you to learn how to survive a harsh winter climate without
using your powers. The soldiers and knights do it all of the time.
This will help prepare you for a position in the northern regiment.
Your magic will be needed for battle, not comfort, and as such I
expect the next seven days to reflect this. Afterward, we will
resume our regular lessons."

"Madness," I told her, grinning, "absolute
madness."

She elbowed me. "Don't mock me, Ry. By the
second night you, too, will be wishing for summer."

"Not as much as my dear brother, I
expect."

Ella blushed. "Yes," she admitted ruefully,
"I suppose I'm not the only one."

"He wants to marry you, you know."

"I know." Her face was in flames. "I'd be a
fool to say anything but yes. I love the both of you more than what
is healthy, I am sure. My parents will undoubtedly consider me a
traitor to my heritage."

****

"Commander Nyx!"

The woman paused. "Yes, apprentice?"

"You asked me to find you if I remembered
anything strange?"

The commander's hurried expression quickly
changed into one of keen interest. "Yes, Ryiah, I am so sorry.
Please forgive me, my mind was elsewhere."

I shifted from one foot to the next. "I'm
sure it is nothing of importance," I stammered, "but my friend said
something…'" I was sure I looked foolish. I felt like a fool, that
was for certain. But when Ella had called herself a traitor, I'd
been plagued with nightmares of that battle. Every night for the
next month I'd been unable to dream of anything else.

And then I'd remembered.

"She called herself a traitor. She didn't
mean it, of course. But it reminded me of that day. One of the
mages said something very similar. He was arguing with his leader
whether or not to take me as a hostage, and she asked him if he
really wanted to defy their orders. She said 'two times a traitor
would only bring a slow and painful death.' I didn't think it then,
but now it struck me as an odd thing to say… What did she mean? Why
would a Caltothian be 'two times a traitor?'"

The commander smiled. She never smiled. It
made every inch of my skin crawl. "Have you ever considered a
position up north?" the woman wanted to know. "Ferren's Keep,
perhaps?"

My ill ease was immediately forgotten.
Was
she offering me a position? Before my ascension ceremony?
"I
have thought about it." I tried to keep the excitement from my
response.

"Well, if you decide that answer is yes, you
would be guaranteed a place in my regiment."

I couldn't breathe. "Really? But you don't
even know my rank yet, and Byron…"

"I judge a person by their merits, not
hearsay," the woman interrupted. "And you, my dear, have impressed
me far more than any of your factionmates. You passed an initial
test half your year failed, and then you saved my regiment. If I
were to go by hearsay then I must tell you the northerners are
singing you nothing but praise. Either way, you will always have a
place in my keep." She reached out to grasp my arm firmly. "We need
more fighters like you, Ryiah."

"And Darren," I said weakly. "He helped save
your regiment too."

The commander's gaze seemed far away. "Yes,"
she said, "I suppose he did." Then her focus cleared. "Nonetheless,
I am sure he will be stationed close to the palace. Darren might be
a mage, but he is still a prince. I believe the king has been
generous in allowing him to spend so much time abroad."

I nodded, feeling silly I had forgotten. Of
course he would not accept. The prince would serve a much higher
rank close to home in the Crown's Army.

I didn't understand why I had felt it
necessary to remind her of his prowess. The whole country knew. Was
I so desperate to spend the rest of my life fighting alongside him?
I should have been happy to finally free myself after spending so
much together.
Why in the name of the gods was I trying to keep
him here?

****

"If I wanted to be saddle sore," Alex griped,
"I would have joined Combat. Not Restoration."

"Calm down, big brother," Derrick teased,
"you'll have plenty of time to grow fat and old after your
ascension."

I snickered as Alex glowered at Derrick over
his meal. "You might think yourself wise because you've enjoyed two
winters in this gods' forsaken place," he said brusquely, "but
there is nothing wrong with choosing a comfortable life."

"A shame you fell in love with a Combat
mage."

"A shame indeed." Alex looked wistful.

"You know Ella wants to be stationed up here,
right? She hates the cold but she still wants the glory." Nothing
was more fun than teasing my twin. Especially in the recent months.
It was obvious to everyone except him how deep he had fallen. The
poor sap didn't stand a chance.

Alex made a face. "I will make it my mission
to talk her around."

"You only have a couple more weeks," I
replied snidely, "and then we will be in the capital."

"You grow more insolent every day." Alex
threw a piece of his toast in my direction. I dodged it easily.
"Must be your inflated sense of pride. You and Derrick are one in
the same. Nothing but a bunch of overfed peacocks."

Derrick winked at me. "That we are." He
turned to Alex with a sly grin on his face. "Well, if your lady
love declines to join you south, I would be happy to have her stay
up north with Ryiah and I. Ella grows more lovely every time I set
eyes on her." Derrick ducked just in time to avoid Alex's fist.

The innkeeper barked at Alex to stop riling
his customers.

I shot my embarrassed twin an amused
expression. "You know Derrick only teases you because you are so
easy to rattle."

"Yes," Derrick declared, "that and I'm afraid
I've grown restless. Eight months is far too long to go without
fighting any Caltothians." He shrugged. "Those drills my commander
puts us through are no use. I'm not accustomed to peace."

"It's not peace," I reminded him tersely,
"it's the quiet before the storm." I glanced at Alex. "And you.
Even if you two aren't stationed together, she'll wait for you. All
you have to do is ask. I, for one, would love to have another girl
in this family."

Alex turned a deep shade of red and busied
himself with his stew. Derrick, meanwhile, picked up the
conversation, steering me toward a much-needed debate on the merits
of a two-handed axe. I became so engrossed in conversation I almost
missed the tolling of the midnight hour. Alex and I groaned our
apologies to Derrick and then retired to the stables for our final
night's ride to the keep's barracks.

In a couple short hours we would be back on
King's Road, headed for the palace… Only this time we would leave
it as mages.

"I have never been more terrified in my
life." Alex was writhing in his best clothes – a silk-lined tunic
and fresh-pressed breeches. Ella reached out to straighten his hem
and then pushed back his bangs, laughing.

"Master Joan is much less intimidating than
Byron," she teased. "It'll be over before you know it. And just
think, when it is, you'll emerge looking handsomer than before in a
red Restoration robe."

I smirked. "And if not, at least your face
will match the rest of you."

Alex paled and Ella gave him a quick kiss in
the cheek, wagging her finger at me as she did. "Leave your poor
brother alone," she chided. "If he gets any more nervous he'll
sweat through his shirt. I hardly think we can find another in time
for the ceremony."

I fingered my own outfit and vaguely wished I
shared some of my twin's own discomfort. I felt exposed in the
dress I was wearing – a soft lilac thing with a bodice that felt
much too tight. It didn't seem right to wear something so feminine
going into an ascension for Combat, but Ella had assured me that
was exactly why I should.
"You are a woman,"
she'd insisted.
"We are already a minority in all of the war schools - not just
our own faction as mages. It would do good to remind the audience
that we can be both."

And so now here I was, unable to breathe –
which I must admit was becoming a common occurrence around Ella
during important occasions in general - and dreading the rest of
the evening. Master Byron's attitude toward me had only grown worse
in the last couple of months, and I had no doubt what my standing
would be at the end of the ceremony. Even though I had Commander
Nyx's offer to hold onto, it did little to sway the deep sense of
foreboding that was growing more prevalent by the second. In less
than an hour I would have to face the world as a fifth-rank
mage.

By the time Ella had finished adjusting my
twin's new tunic it was time to go. I gathered the hem of my dress
and followed my brother and friend into the palace's throne room.
There was a red and gold-lined rug that trailed down the center of
the great hall, folding several times on tall steps before finally
resting under a large gold-adorned throne marked with plush red
cushions and thick golden arms. The king studied the apprentices as
we entered.

One by one, each one of us kneeled before him
and then separated into three distinct rows: Restoration closest to
the front and Combat at the rear.

Prince Blayne sat in a less ornate chair than
his father, but he still looked very regal and cold in the same
hematite and steel crown. He had a look of extreme boredom as each
apprentice entered, with only the slightest expression of interest
when his brother appeared.

Behind the throne, three massive stained
glass windows cast rays of light across the hall and onto the side
risers at either end where the nobility and our younger
factionmates sat watching. Several members of the King's Regiment
stood guard at the front and back of the room while the Council of
Magic and Crown Advisors sat in a small stand to the left of the
king to watch the proceedings from their own special box.