Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (17 page)

Bonds

Will woke in a candle-lit room. It immediately struck Will that, though cluttered, the room was perfectly immaculate with not a speck of dust or dirt to be seen. Cots lined the walls, drapes hiding the inhabitants from sight. Turning over on his side, he noticed with surprise that the gash on his back did not pain him. A little woman waddled hunchbacked over to where Will was lying. Her short brown hair was neatly braided in some spots and wildly unkempt in others. She wore spectacles, but only one lens was in the frame. Will noticed with wary eyes the large, emerald green snake that wrapped itself around her arm. 

“So, you are awake, child? Finally. Now, you can take your medicine,” she said, smiling. The wild-looking woman was missing several teeth. “I tell the Blademaster all the time, ‘you can’t leave those scrappers alone; somebody’s bound to get hurt.’ Teach them to fight then expect them to behave themselves when you’re not around to keep them in line? It’s preposterous.” She seemed friendly enough, so Will took the yellow potion she handed him. He almost vomited after he drank the first sip; the taste was unbearable.

“Come on now, drink up,” she said, forcing the rest of the vial down Will’s throat. “Your reputation precedes you, Brightflame. I suppose we will be seeing a lot of each other. Or at least, I will be seeing a lot more of your victims. And already today, I have treated many of your victims. You broke that one boy’s arm so badly; I know not how to set the bones. Maybe I just take it off after all… After today, I suspect you’ll have no lack of enemies. Not hard to imagine you encountering more danger during your stay here at the Academy.”

Will frowned and nodded weakly. “Yes, well, I’ve been finding danger rather unavoidable recently. My gratitude is yours for taking the trouble to numb my back; I feel no pain.”

“Think of it as repayment; you tell your father that.”

“How do you know my-”

“The question is how well do I know your father.”

Neither said a word for a minute while the old woman scanned Will for injuries with her sharp eyes. The snake’s tongue flicked the air inaudibly. Will shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“I am Revia, Revia the Healer. Some would feel it necessary to add that my true skills lie in a darker craft rather than in healing, but I don’t tend think about other’s opinion of me or of anything really. At any rate, you’ll find that your back has been completely healed, not even a scar,” she smiled again. Sure enough, when Will felt his back for a sign of the wound, it had vanished, leaving only smooth skin.

“You did not respond to the medicine I normally issue the others; that’s how I knew you were Stormhand’s boy. It took time and a little blood magic, but that is no issue. One with my ability is able to heal much deadlier wounds given enough blood.”

“Blood magic?” Will asked nervously.

Revia laughed, an uncontrolled titter, “Fear not, little Furialist. After your brawl, there was blood enough to heal all these lord’s sons, not that I did. They will have to wait and recover the traditional way. But, if it will help you sleep at night, know that your injuries required no sacrifice or anything as unpleasant as that. Of course, not any blood would do; the only suitable match for you was the Ogdin boy’s. Never mind how I knew about your bond to the lycanthrope, though. Just an old woman’s suspicions.”

“What bond? That potion…” Will said, remembering its horrid taste. Suddenly wary, Will frowned. Witches were deceitful and cruel, but Will calmed that doubt, realizing the Academy would not employ one who would intentionally harm injured recruits.

“In truth, it was a bit of an experiment on my part. You don’t feel like dying, do you?” the witch asked, smiling her toothless smile.

“Should I?”

“Not if you are what I think you are, but fear not, my suspicions have been confirmed.”

“A relief, I’m sure,” Will said. “My thanks for mending my back.”

Revia just wagged her finger at him. “Keep your thanks, just remember to tell your father. We are even now. At any rate, I do find pleasure in helping you youngsters. It’s the little things in life you know. Now, you must forgive me; I think the Ogdin pup is coming around now.” Revia shuffled to a cot across the room.

Ogdin was here? Did I put him here?
Will thought guiltily. Then, remembering that Ogdin had started the fight, Will felt that the lycanthrope deserved whatever injuries he had suffered.

Though exhausted, Will felt his strength recovered enough to prop himself up on his pillow. Staring at the instruments and listening to the moans of unseen wounded, Will sat quietly for a few moments before a loud knock on the door drew his attention.

Will heard a deep voice speak. Revia replied, “Yes, they are ready to speak, though the fire whisperer has recovered much quicker.”

Boots clacking loudly on the stone floor, Blademaster Boewdard walked into Will’s view. He looked from Will to Ogdin and back again before speaking in a tone forced even, “I will not punish either of you for your behavior. By design, that is what the Range is for. But, you must not aim to severely injure one another. We lost a recruit today. Her lord father will be quite furious when he discovers what happened to his daughter. I demand to know who started the fight? William? Daniel?”

No one spoke. Boewdard laughed, “No one will admit fault, eh? I must assume then that both are to blame. In that case, I have but one more question. How many cadets did you take down before falling yourself?”

Will was surprised by Boewdard’s interest in that detail. The expression on the Blademaster’s face was that of genuine curiosity. “Three,” Will said bluntly.

Ogdin remained silent, but turned red around the ears. “Eh, Daniel, how many?” Boewdard asked.

“None,” Ogdin replied moodily.

Boewdard looked slightly surprised, “None? Who fell you?”

Ogdin shifted uncomfortably but did not say anything. Boewdard turned to Will and asked, “Did you see him fall? Who broke his arm?”

“I did, and I did,” Will said, attempting to remain stoic while inwardly beaming with pride.

“Interesting,” Boewdard murmured to himself. “Revia, have Master Ogdin back on his feet as fast as possible.” Deep in thought, Boewdard raised his black eyebrows and left the room without another word. Cackling, Revia shuffled from her cluttered desk in a corner to tend to Ogdin, and as she pulled back his curtain, Will saw with no small amount of pleasure that Ogdin’s right arm was in a sling.

A while later, Revia returned to Will’s bed, “I’ve prepared the Ogdin boy for his treatment. He will be in much pain now that he has woken up, and I dare not give him another sleeping draught. You are free to leave. Or stay. It matters not to me.”

“It may be better that I go,” Will replied. He had little desire to bear witness to Revia’s method of healing.

He thanked her again before exiting the Healer’s Ward. “I will have my revenge someday, Brightflame. You have not defeated me,” Ogdin cried as Will made to exit. Revia began chanting in a monotonous language, and Ogdin’s screams filled the air. Quickly then, Will tried to ignore the pained shrieks and continued out of the Healer’s Ward.

As he navigated the hallways and corridors of the castle, Will passed empty classrooms and offices before finally arriving in the Foyer. No one was in the Range, nor were there people moving about in the courtyard. Will wondered what time it was as he poked his head in the Feasting Hall.
Meal time
, Will thought as he saw the cadets eating.

Taking a step inside, he was met by Art, who had rushed over to him. “I’ve missed you, farm boy; are you well? I went to visit you, but you were still unconscious.”

“How long was I in the Healer’s Ward? What time is it? How did the fight end?”

“Whoa, one question at a time. It is breakfast, you have been unconscious in the Healer’s Ward for just under a day.”

“A day! I must have been hit hard,” Will said, shocked.

“Aye. The healer figured that because you used magic, your energy must have been low. She seemed to know quite a lot about the nature of your powers,” Art said.

“She is a witch. She would know a great deal about magic.”

“A witch? That’s suspicious. You still have all your toes?” Art asked uncomfortably.

Laughing, Will responded the affirmative, “Aye, my toes remain mine, all eleven of them.”

Art smiled, “How about your stomach? You must be famished.”

At Art’s comment, Will realized that he had not eaten in an entire day. Just the thought caused him to feel faint. Following Art back to his place, Will sat and ate until he replenished his strength. Although he had been bed ridden for a day, Will was exhausted. He told Art he was going to go to bed and retreated to the Pit.

Once asleep, he was again plagued by the dream of the burning castle. The images seemed more real and vivid than the first time he had seen them. In this vision, Will also saw his father leading a grim host of men towards the burning gates. His father advanced through the gates, and Will lost sight of him. Then, bloodcurdling screams echoing around him, filling his head with the noise.

     “Will, supper!” Art shouted from behind the dormitory door. Will woke, startled and disturbed. Drenched in sweat, he pressed his hands to his eyes as if that would erase the persistent image of his father from his mind. After a moment, Will dressed and sheathed a hunting knife in his belt. Relaying his dream to Art, they walked to the Feasting Hall. Art again assured Will that it was but a dream and meant nothing, but this time, Will remained unsure.

Halfway through the meal, Will realized that he needed to finish his assigned essays, the revelation hitting him like a charging Warrior. After dinner, he hurried back to the Pit and started the dull task of writing the papers assigned that week. The sun had long since fallen below the horizon by the time Will finished. He yawned and threw his parchments and quill into his pack. That night, for the first time in what seemed like days, Will rested well, despite his eventful weekend.

A new week arrived, and the sleeping recruits awoke to the growling of their Faction Leader. They were all slow to dress and finally, after many yawns and an attempt by Gregor to fall back asleep, they made it into the Feasting Hall. The five boys sat in a row, ravenously devouring their breakfast. Finishing their eggs and ham, Will and the others wearily dragged themselves up the stairs to the Pit. Gearing up and readying themselves for class, the boys talked amongst themselves about the club notices.

“What will the Blademaster have us fight?” Ben asked as they walked through the common room, referring to the notice that had been tacked to the Pit door three days prior.

“I haven’t an idea, but after today, we’ll be battle-proven cadets,” Gregor acknowledged. “No more of this Academy training, no more of this Imperial Army rot. When I leave this place, I’m going to do my duty to the Empire and retire as soon as I am able. Then, I will be free to pursue a career in monster hunting, and life will be all about slaying beasts and bathing in gold.” Spontaneously, he burst into a dance in which he hopped from one foot to the other pretending to collect coins. The others soon joined him, hooting with laughter.

Losing his balance, Pat fell to the ground and remained there, bawling tears of mirth and clutching his stomach with delight. Four girls carrying books close to their chests walked past the hysterical boys with looks of disgust firmly planted on their faces.

Leaving the others laughing uncontrollably, Will and Art walked across the dew-dampened lawn to Beast Mastery. The weather was nice; the sun shone warmly down on them with only the slightest nip of cold in the air. Will saw Worth dressed in a leather vest, surrounded by a knot of recruits. The professor waved them over and, with a smile, said, “I had almost forgotten your prizes. I picked these out for the both of you because you performed exceedingly well in that first test. Methinks you will enjoy this.” Worth handed both Will and Art an enormous lump of chocolate, each piece big enough to fill Will’s palm.

Thanking the professor, they bit into their chocolate. It was flavorful and sweet. Will ate more and more until he reached the core. Out burst a creamy mousse, tasting of a heavier cocoa. Before he realized it, Will had finished the entire lump.

Then, he and Art felt very sick, for they had both eaten their entire chocolaty prize. Worth chuckled, “I figured that you would do that. Here drink this; it should make you feel better.” They drank the greenish liquid, and Art claimed that he did indeed feel better. Will, however, discerned no change.

His stomach roiled queasily as class started, but sickness was replaced by excitement and curiosity when Worth announced their new project. “Now that you all know a little bit about frevmats, we will be experimenting with our knowledge. Each of you will pick a figurine from this bag. The figure you choose will depict the creature that will be your ‘frevmat’ for the next few weeks. The creatures will begin as hatchlings and newborns, and your goal is to care for them. If you nurture them correctly, they will grow. I will inspect your progress over the next few weeks to see how each pair is doing. Now, take your pick,” he said holding out a large sack.

Four recruits quickly stepped up, each drawing from the large bag a small figure. They held statuettes of a viper, a monkey, a boar, and a green dragon. Worth told them to stand aside, and a wave of recruits crashed forward. Profanities issued from the mouths of the fighting youths as they jockeyed for position. Eventually, the crowd began to disperse, each recruit studying the likeness of his pretend frevmat.