Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (15 page)

“A wizard?”

“Right, one who comes by his magical ability through study and the use of a magical artifact such as a staff or wand. And in those quiet hours, he showed me scrolls and tomes written in languages I could not understand. He taught me some words and trained me to access power. Though my uncle could not use magic without his staff, we quickly discovered that I was a weaver. Oh how proud my uncle was when I cast my first spell without the use of his staff, which he let me borrow to practice when my dear mother was occupied. But one day, before he saw my powers blossom in truth, he joined company with a clan of knights, never to return.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Will consoled, placing a hand on Vivyan’s shoulder.

“The memory does not sting so much after these several years, but my gratitude is yours all the same. You’ve a sweet soul, William. Before, I said that Ogdin is appealing in all his confidence, but you are the better man. I hope someday you’ll come to realize that.”

Will was speechless. Vivyan smiled softly. “Until the morrow, good Warrior.”

“Aye. Good evening, milady,” Will said automatically, trying to comprehend what she had meant.

“Will.” The way her voice lingered on his name forced his heart to skip a beat. Unable to do anything else, Will stood embarrassingly rigid as she drifted away with exceptional grace.

“Goodbye,” Will managed to utter, long after Vivyan was out of earshot. At times, he felt awkward in her presence, but Will felt such a connection to the girl that he longed for the next time they would be together.

Finally remembering where he was, Will realized that he did not know where to go as his classes were finished for the day and Art was angry with him. Deciding to take a lonely walk on the lawn, he pushed open the great doors and stepped out into the dusky courtyard.

Winter was on its way. Everywhere one could see it; days grew shorter, nights longer, and there was a nip in the wind that compelled Will to stuff his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He wished he had thought to bring a heavier cloak.

Scant few students were out, and most of those were making their way back to the castle. Will looked up. The sky, although clear throughout the day, was now hazed over. The clouds were formless, but both dark and threatening. He sighed and turned to go back in.

“Hail, Will! Wait up for a time, I would speak with you a moment,” Will heard someone call from behind him. Awkwardly, due to the four swords he had propped under his arm, Modwyn jogged up from the fields. “I will not feign surprise at this development but, Will, I must congratulate you all the same. The Warriors asked you to join their ranks, an impressive feat for a recruit trying to survive his first day at the Academy. Not in all my days have I seen a more promising Warrior than you. Already, many laud you a hero.”

“A hero? I’ve done nothing to deserve such a title, but gratitude for the compliment,” Will acknowledged laughing. “I’ll admit, I was in shock over today’s events.”
Too much, much too fast.

“Indeed, it is much to comprehend. Sometimes, late at night, I myself struggle to believe this reality. As young as I am, I was given a position to work here training recruits like you, as a Master-at-Arms no less. The appointment was unprecedented. By all rights, I ought to be fighting, bleeding, and dying on the field of battle far beyond these castle walls. The Emperor was too kind in appointing me here, but it is not my desire to question his majesty’s actions. It is said that an emperor always has his reasons. This night, however, I will know no worries, for this is a time to celebrate. It is not every day the Warriors accept another into their fold.”

As they entered the Foyer, Modwyn bade Will farewell, parting ways down a well-lit corridor. Aimlessly, Will walked towards his dormitory. Through a drafty arrow slit, he saw a javelin of lightning split the sky with a flash of white light followed by a giant clap of thunder shortly after.

Thankful he missed the heavy rain now pelting the castle walls, Will started again on his way to the Lumberton Pit. After a time, he entered through the door next to the breathing-statue bear. The room was crowded as once again several students sparred in the center of the Pit.

Will ducked his head in an attempt to avoid notice. He saw Art sitting alone at a rain-streaked window, watching the storm develop. “Art, uhh…” Will said uneasily, not knowing exactly how to phrase his apology and wishing he had crafted something more intelligent during his walk.

“Will, accept my apologies. Today, I let my own suspicions of Boewdard’s intentions taint your accomplishments. I have no reason to suspect foul play, and even a mute would say that your accolades are well deserved,” Art smiled.

Will shook his head, “No, I should not have gotten cross. Overwhelmed already, I let my emotions take the upper hand. It takes a true friend to speak his heart as you did.”

“We are friends then?” Art said, extending his hand.

Will took it and pulled Art to his feet with a heave. “Brothers,” Will said, clasping Art’s arm.

“That settled, I am a hungry man,” Art complained.

“I could go for supper; I’m famished,” Will agreed, and as if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly.

Somewhere in the distance, the bell tolled, signaling the beginning of the evening feast. The two friends filed out of the common room after the other students. Down two flights of flagstone steps, past tapestries of the warriors of old, outdated maps, and windows, and through the torch-lit corridors they strolled. When they finally sat down at the Lumberton table, the Feasting Hall was packed.

When food was carted from the kitchens, Art snatched up a cob of corn and a chicken leg, and Will cut a slab of ham off a skewered boar. The meat was moist, and the vegetables were fresh. They ate and drank until they thought they could eat no more. Then, the dessert came and they found room in their previously filled stomachs to eat slices of pie and sugared fruit.

Contented and full, Will and Art left the Feasting Hall an hour later, heading back to the Pit. They hadn’t turned down but one corridor before, “Brightflame, turn and face your greatest enemy. An enemy with such power, even a Warrior such as you could not hope to match. My power,” a voice declared, “is undeniable, and my victory is inevitable. So turn and prepare yourself, for I will defeat you here and now.”

Will ignored Ogdin and continued to walk with Art.

Will felt the fist smash into the back of his head as spots of light flashed in his vision. Eyes aglow with fury, Will spun around to face his attacker. Ogdin threw another punch at Will, who dodged it easily. “What is your problem?”

Ogdin cocked his arm back, preparing to launch another blow. Will laughed, swatting the fist away as one would a child’s. “Too slow, dog.”

“I can defeat you, I know I can. I will be the best,” Ogdin shouted as his house leader grabbed him by the collar. Will smiled as Ogdin was dragged down the hall. “Unhand me!”

“An empty-headed lout he is,” Art said shaking his head.

“Aye, and conceited,” Will replied. “How did he come to think he was better than everyone else? I mean, is that natural?”

“Who knows?”

“Who cares?” Will laughed.

They entered the Pit and sat at a table near the cavernous fireplace, well away from dueling cadets. Will, who had no homework, watched Art heave his bag over and remove his copy of
Reading the Stars, a Beginner’s Stargazing Guide
, by Nathorus Novae.

Complaining, Art began to diagram and scrawl his messy lettering across a parchment while Will merely watched the fire crackle and dance. The fire cast an orange glow on the stones, and where it licked the logs, black ash formed upon them. It was altogether entrancing.

Remembering his lesson with the Blademaster, Will focused upon a smooth rock lying below the fire. He summoned his energy and whispered, “Raisíth.” The stone rose, at his command, slowly and was held stationary above the fire. Will concentrated on moving the stone towards him. Closer and closer, it slowly moved until it hovered right at Will’s eye level. He held out his hand and released the power.

As Will felt the repercussion of his spell--a slight twinge in his abdomen--he caught the warm stone in his hand. It was covered in a thin layer of ash that stained Will’s palm black. Wiping away the black layer, Will revealed the gray surface of the stone. Finishing his esoteric inspection, he exhaustedly threw the stone back into the fire.

“Finally done. I had to predict the location of the sun in relation to the Night Star for the next four months,” Art said.

“To what end?” Will asked.

Art smiled sadly, shaking his head. “If only I knew.”

Eventually, the Lumbertons around them disappeared into their rooms, until Will and Art were nearly alone. The two talked for a time about nothing in particular then left the smoldering fire so as to prepare for sleep.

Will’s mind and body throbbed from the day’s activities. He slowly stripped off his tunic and inspected his body for the source of his pains. Finding no visible sign of bruising, he flexed his muscles and yawned. All the while, he felt an aching from inside him, an aching for home.

He crawled sleepily into his soft bed. Feeling chilled, Will pulled the white blankets up to his chin and lay awake thinking of home. Would his father and mother have restored the cottage by now? Were they feeling as empty as he felt when they crossed his mind? Lumina, Custard, and all the other creatures Will had cared for, did they miss him, too?

The snores of his friends sounded softly, soothing his troubled mind for moment and grounding his thoughts. Effortlessly, Will fell into an uneasy sleep.

There was a dark castle in the distance, some of its turrets crumbled and lying smoldering upon the ground. The remaining towers spouted fire from their windows. The clash of arms could be heard from within the castle. Children crowded around Will and moved into the forest. A hooded boy stood beside him with a battleaxe in hand. Art removed his hood, and Will could see his face and the tears that welled in Art’s eyes as they looked back at the castle.

Words with Beasts

Will woke with a gasp. The sun had not yet risen, but he fought his way out of the tangled covers and pulled on his tunic anyway. The soft carpet beneath his feet warmed them. Strapping on a belt, Will hung his sheathed sword on his side and pulled on leather boots, planting a knife in his left one. He looked at each of his friend’s drawn curtains before exiting the room.

Alone, Will sat in a chair by the fireplace. Though the fire had long since died, some coals still glowed dimly in the deep recesses of the hearth.

Will drew his sword and gazed at its blade. The blue runes etched into dwarven steel gave off a mystic glow that danced around Will’s face.

“Art,” Will said as they sat down at the breakfast table. “I had a dream last night. It showed the Academy burning.”

“Probably nothing, just a nightmare,” Art consoled him.

“It was just so real. I thought-
” he paused. “You’re right. It was just a dream.”

They ate breakfast and headed up to the dorm to prepare for their classes. At the bear statue, Will saw a note tacked on the door. It read, “Cadets of Faction Lumberton, it is my great pleasure to inform you of the beginning of the Jousting season. Come; bring horse and nerve to try your might in the first Jousting Tourney held by the stables this Monday after classes. Yours truly, Blademaster Boewdard.”

“Eh, how about that, Art?” Will asked, tapping the announcement with a finger.

“Nay, my old horse hardly survived the journey here. He used to be my brothers’ you see, survived three of them. It would be inhumane, forcing Old Sam to charge down the list at his ripe age,” Art laughed, shaking his head.

“We have no classes tomorrow?” Will asked, already knowing the answer.

“Aye, what of it?”

“No reason, just that I have to serve my detention with Nailfram,” Will said glumly. Art nodded solemnly.

In his room, Will donned a hooded cloak over his black Lumberton tunic, for it was raining again. He slung his bow and quiver across his back and snatched up his pack. Will and Art walked slowly to prolong their time inside the castle, but when the time came, they pushed the enormous doors open, pulling on their hoods. Dreading the period they were about to have to spend outdoors in Beast Mastery, they stepped out into a torrential downpour and scurried across the lawn toward Worth and the group of soaked recruits.

“Perfect. Everyone is here, we can move out of this slight drizzle. Come this way,” Worth said. He wrapped his buckskin coat tightly around his large body as he loped off towards a large stable, looming as a shadow in the sheets of rain. The stable was warm and smelt of a hundred wet animals. The smells of horse and dung were thick in the air as well. Heavy as the air was, Will enjoyed it, giving him the impression of his own stable at home. The students shook off their cloaks and jackets, droplets of water flashing in the torchlight as they fell to the straw-strewn floor.

Perpetually excited, Worth looked around at the assembled class, a toothy grin on his wide face. “It’s a special day, this one. Today, I am going to introduce you to my frevmat. Don’t be alarmed; she is typically, perfectly harmless. I must warn you, however, to watch your voices. Don’t speak too loudly or all at once; she won’t like that,” Worth warned. He put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle. A large head peeked out from behind a stall. Slowly, it emerged further, revealing its enormous body. “Relic, meet the children,” Worth cried, happily embracing the beast, ringing his long arms around the frevmat’s elbow-high neck.

The frevmat resembled an immense wolf; its yellow eyes glared at the students. White fangs could be seen protruding from the beast’s mouth, and the shaggy gray and black fur lay matted on its sides. Relic wagged her long, bushy tail slowly, examining the anxious students with a cold glare that suggested she was hunting. The yellow eyes met with Will’s and paused.

Brightflame, I have been waiting to meet you since learning of you through Worth’s mind. A man with the ability to speak to beasts is rare indeed. I suppose it bears mentioning that Worth thinks highly of you, as do I.
Her voice was sweet but growling in Will’s head.
Word of your accomplishments travels quickly. You have done much in a very little time.
She sounded amused.

Will reached out with his mind and tentatively felt her consciousness.
My gratitude for the compliments, Relic. You yourself must be a great player in the game of war. Surely, my talents would mean little against such a natural fury.
Disorienting images of violence, of throats torn out by sharp fangs, of arms broken between powerful jaws, flashed briefly in Will’s mind.

You speak with kind respect. It is acknowledged and well received by one as old as myself. But quick, pay attention. Worth is teaching.

The class period passed, and Will had absorbed all that he could about frevmats. The subject still fascinated him. Worth dismissed the class, watching with amusement as the recruits rushed off through the rain. Will stayed behind and looked for Soulfire.

There were a hundred or more stalls, but Will found the excited colt after checking only a few stalls. The horse tossed his mane and whinnied happily at the sight of Will. Smiling, Will gently rubbed the long, red face. Soulfire’s liquid green eyes stared at Will calmly. Then, a loud clap of thunder made Soulfire jump with surprise and fear.

With soothing words and his touch, Will tried to calm Soulfire, but the horse did not respond, continuing to flail about wildly. Will realized that if he could talk to Relic and the griffin Glidar then maybe, he could talk to Soulfire in the same way.

Will hesitated,
Soulfire?
Reaching out into the void, Will found a presence surrounded in paralyzing fear.

A clap of thunder rocked the stable. Soulfire tossed his head violently.

Calm,
Will said.
Soulfire, listen to me.
The armor of fear faltered, and Will squeezed his thoughts into the gaps, finding Soulfire’s mind and meshing his thoughts with the horse’s.

Yes, Master, I hear. Just that the Kaboom-boom is going to get me.

Calm down before you hurt yourself.

I’m too young to get eaten, Master! I’ve been a good horse all my life, but the Kaboom-boom is going to get me.

Will grabbed Soulfire’s head and forced it still. Staring into the eyes of his horse, Will felt the tension slowly evaporate from the strong legs of the animal.
Call me Will, please. I’ve got to go to my next class, but I’ll try to come back later. For now, just know that the thunder won’t get you; it’s just a noise, and noises cannot eat you.

Of course noises cannot eat you,
the horse agreed readily.
But what has that to do with the Kaboom-boom? And Master Will, what’s a thunder?

Shaking his head amusedly, Will withdrew his hands from Soulfire’s forehead and said goodbye to his eccentric horse.

Worth bade farewell to Will before they hustled their separate ways. Rain drenched Will once again, despite his best efforts to draw his hood tightly around his head; the dryness of the Foyer was much appreciated. Will hurried down the corridor leading to Nailfram’s classroom.

He snuck in the door just in time. Will slipped into his desk and pulled from his pack the heavy volume,
A Book on Alchemy: a Manual for Creating Something Out of Nothing
. “Get a cauldron. We are perfecting the Elixir of Illumination. Mistakes will not be tolerated. Morgan, read the instructions this time, or I’ll have you beaten. Two strips of newt skin, not three,” Nailfram instructed. He proceeded to write again the instructions with a murmured spell and scribble of his finger.

Will grabbed one of the black pots and began on the potion. The spring water simmered, and Will added flame flower along with some ground ash. A couple of counter-clockwise stirs later, Will added the strips of newt skin. Blinding light flared up in his cauldron, but this time, he had the foresight to look away before adding the final ingredients. Will smiled, noticed that almost everybody had brewed the potion correctly. What he failed to notice was that all of the Scalefire students had received a great deal of help from Professor Nailfram.

“If you are finished, you may begin your assignment for next class,” Nailfram said coolly, not looking up from some papers he was reading with careful scrutiny. “It is an essay on the advantages and disadvantages of using the Elixir of Illumination.”

Will grabbed a blank scroll from his bag and began to write, “The advantages of the Elixir of Illumination are plentiful, but none is more prominent than its ability to produce light. Light, by which we can see, emanates from the potion. The light never fades and can illumine even the darkest places. Use with caution, however, because this great advantage is also the potion’s greatest disadvantage as the light can alert enemies of the user’s position. It provides a clear-”

“Class is over. Get out my sight, now!” Nailfram dismissed them, seeming more irritated than usual. Will wondered what the paper said that the professor must continue to pore over it so intently.

Will hastily dumped the cauldron’s contents, quickly scrubbing the residue of light that stuck to the sides, and scurried out of the room and up the corridor.

“Nailfram was upset by that letter, huh?” Vivyan said, catching up to Will in the hall.

“Aye, one can only guess at what it said,” Will replied.

“Surely nothing to get so distressed about. But men will get heated over the littlest of things I suppose,” Vivyan smiled, accidentally brushing her hand against his as they walked.

“You would have me believe that all men are incited to passion over small things?” Will asked, grinning mockingly.

“I merely mean to say that women are moved by
bigger
things,” she smirked, winking. “Our hands touched for but a moment, and I noticed that already you are up in arms,” Vivyan laughed sweetly.

Embarrassed on every level, Will shifted uncomfortably, but Vivyan simply giggled at that. “William, no need to hide from me. When I refer to bigger things… I would not be ashamed were I you.” They were in the Foyer and a friend beckoned to Vivyan. “See you, Will,” she said, stroking his arm as she started towards her friend.

Unconsciously, Will stared after her, horrified by the betrayal of his emotions. Nonetheless, he stared, observing her flawless figure as she walked. The sway in her hips and the confidence in her stride drove him inexcusably wild, setting loose his imagination.

Finally, Will was able to control himself enough to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Looking around, he saw Art on the other side of Foyer, and the two made for History together. Waiting for them there was Baruktaråg, the dwarf, welcoming them into his class with a warm smile. Today, he wore a rich, red-hooded cloak and gold-studded boots. His belt was likewise encrusted with gold.

Will and Art sat at the front of the classroom, and while Will eagerly awaited the start of the lesson, Art prepared his book, trying his best to transform the hard bindings into a decent pillow. “We will be learning history in large chunks in mine class from now on. The first unit will focus on the elves. I gave you a brief overview yesterday, but that is not even a dent in the subject. We will divulge and expand upon the vast subject until we reach the end of the unit. Then, I will test your knowledge in order to track your progress and judge your attention spans,” Baruktaråg explained patiently. Some of the dimmer recruits looked confused, having ceased listening some time earlier.

The lesson ended an hour later, and not a moment too soon because Will felt that his mind couldn’t absorb any more about the elves. Baruktaråg had discussed the landing of the Fair Folk and the founding of Van Arda, the elf realm, as well as attempted to force the recruits to memorize at least thirty of the most important leaders in their early ventures.

When recruits stood and began gathering their belongings, Will poked the sleeping Art, who nearly leapt to his feet shouting, “Where’s the baby?”

“What baby?” Will asked, grinning at the of Art’s ridiculous outburst.

“It’s over already?” Art yawned, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Must be time for food.”

In the Feasting Hall, Ben, Gregor, and Pat joined Will and Art to talk about sore muscles and classes. Finishing his meal before the bell had signaled classes to start, Will had some free time and planned to ask Modwyn what he knew about a Furialist’s powers. Maybe he could give Will the answers to the questions that he’d grappled with since the griffin had told Will what he was.

First, Will raced up to the Pit to change into the gear he needed for Combat. Today, he grabbed his unpainted shield and squirmed his way into the mail before donning his cloak once again. Throwing on his hood, Will stepped outside in the heavy rain. He jogged toward the field.

Arriving
drenched, Will saw that no one was there. He snarled and stamped his foot, spraying water and mud all around.
Where is Modwyn?
he thought frustrated and wet. It then occurred to Will that Modwyn might stay in the Feasting Hall right up until class would start to avoid the driving rains.

Entering the Feasting Hall, Will threw off his soaking hood. Most of the students were still eating and talking, but none of the professors remained at their table; indeed, the staff table was quite empty but for a scant few.
Where are they?
Will shrugged and plopped down next to Art, who was having an animated conversation with Ben and Gregor.