Brightflame Accension (Book 1) (19 page)

“Hah, I suppose you’re right. Good luck, kid,” Caleb said changing the subject with one of his goodhearted laughs. Will began to think that there was more to his story, but let the evasion stand unchallenged. Turning around, Will rejoined his Lumberton recruits.

They were led to the forest’s edge, and one by one, the groups were sent in. Occasionally, Will heard screams of fear, even seeing two Soardale boys sprint out of the dark forest and back to the castle.

Caleb sent the Lumbertons--Will, Art, Ben, Gregor, and Pat--in last. Leaving Vale and Scarp behind, they strutted into the forest, with Pat following cautiously a step behind. They quickly found the monster’s lair. It was an ominous pit with
an entrance lined with stalactite teeth. Moist air drifted from the mouth of the lair, bringing with it the heavy smell of something rotting. Will strode right in without second thought. Pat hesitated before scampering after Will.

“I’m not going in there,” the Ben said plainly, standing at the entrance to the pit.

“You must to complete the mission,” Will said. “Don’t worry not, we’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of because I’m not going in,” Ben stated defiantly, but with an edge of fear in his voice. “You’re both going to die in there.”

“Suit yourself. Come along, Pat; this craven has squandered precious time.”

A screech filled the forest air. The Lumbertons froze, their ears straining to locate the source of the cry. Art tightened the grip on his ax.

“Will, Pat, go on ahead. We will remain and mitigate the unknown threat.”

Will nodded. “If you need aid, holler.”

Leaving their comrades behind, Will and Pat forged ahead into the near darkness, which thickened as they descended the steep slope taking them underground.

“Will,” Pat whined, “I can’t see.”

Will rolled his eyes, “Here, just stick close.” Will withdrew from a pocket the vial of Elixir of Illumination he had taken from Survival. The light that had seemed so bright in the classroom had faded, but even its faint light was welcome in the oppressive darkness. Their voices echoed loudly off of the high ceiling. A slight drip, drip of water falling from the moist walls added to the gloomy atmosphere.

“Ugh! A drop hit me. Ow! Another, right in the eye!” Pat cried.

“Don’t look up and you’ll be fine,” Will whispered, growing frustrated at the amount of noise they were making. The fearlessness with which he had entered the cave had faded, leaving Will wary and wishing that a certain party member of his would stay quiet so that the monster they hunted did not find them first.

Pat tripped over a rock hidden in the dark, crashing into Will. The flask of light slipped from Will’s hand, splattering the ground with luminescent slop. The noise of Pat’s lurch and the shattering of the glass on the stone floor rang sharply through the cave. Now mostly blind, Will became aware of a quiet snuffling ahead. “Pat, be quiet! This monster could be anywhere.”

“We need better light if we are to do battle here. Give me a moment,” Pat murmured. “I’ll summon some.”

The boy fell silent in concentration. Will waited patiently, alert for any sound in the dark cave. A full minute passed. Nothing had happened.

“Any luck with light, Pat?”

There was no response for some time. Finally, Pat sighed, “No, no luck. But I shouldn’t need luck to use a simple spell! What would Grandda say? I am the worst mage in all my Bloodline! I am sorry, Will. I’m useless.”

For a moment, Will was tempted to agree, but thought better of poking fun. In the dim light cast by the spilled Elixir, he saw Pat well enough to be able to clap him on the shoulder.

“Cheer up, Pat! Even if you were the worst spell bender in all of Gammalgard, and I’m certain that you’re not, your Grandda should be proud. You are a true Lumberton, valiant and brave. See Ben falter at the first sign of danger? You hardly balked at all and here you are, actively seeking to enter mortal combat with an unknown foe in near darkness. Whether you’re skilled in magic or not, such bravery is to be commended. Your grandfather would be proud.”

“I’m not as brave as you.”

“And why not? You’re here just the same as I am.”

“You never hesitated at the mouth of this cave. You always act deftly as if you know what to no matter the situation. I carry not the confidence in all my body that you have in your left foot.”

Will nearly laughed. “Often wrong, yet never in doubt. I’m afraid that’s my father’s influence on me. But Pat, it’s useless to tell you to be confident in yourself, that is something you need to realize on your own. It’s useless to try to be something you’re not. The effort will leave you weary and unhappy, and the world would miss out on your unique brilliance. You may not be a world-class sorcerer yet, but if you ignore the pressures to fit a specific mold, instead allowing yourself to become your own man, I have no doubt that you will find yourself wielding great power.”

Just as Will finished, a baritone grunt sounded close behind them. Pat shouted, his voice reverberating loudly off the walls. Will quickly drew his sword and saw, in the light of the white blade, a hulking troll.

The troll bellowed and shaded its beady eyes from the bright light with shovel-sized hands. Will froze, remembering his last encounter with a troll at the Jaohn tournament.

They hesitated for a moment, Warrior and troll, each sizing up the other. With a ferocious roar, the troll shook its large head and charged. Leaping to the side just in time, Will dodged a wicked blow from its clenched fist and clambered up the beast’s back.

Trying to maintain his balance, he sawed with all his might in an effort to slit the monster’s throat with his glittering blade. The troll’s massive hand groped wildly for Will, who redoubled his efforts, pumping his arms at a furious pace.

The troll bucked unexpectedly, just as the skin began to give way to the sword’s bite. Will was knocked off-balance and fell hard to the stone floor. The impact winded him, and Will gasped in a vain attempt to refill his lungs.

Rounding on Pat, the troll bared its blunted teeth in a brutish snarl. Will lay helpless as his portly friend stumbled and tripped out of sight.

In total darkness, Pat bounced off walls and staggered across the uneven floor. Will heard the troll take off in pursuit. Regaining his feet, Will forced his uncooperative body to follow the noises of the two figures ahead. Even with the light of his sword to guide him, Will could see neither Pat nor the troll.

The tunnel ceiling grew taller as the ground sloped downwards, and Will ran deeper beneath the earth. He might have been afraid, claustrophobic, if he paused to think about it. But he did not. He had to save Pat.

The cave veered sharply to the right and opened into a wide hollow.
This must be its den
, Will thought. It would be the end of the burrow, no more room to run.

The smell of the den was thick, oppressive. Will gagged and felt his eyes water in protest to the stench. He ignored the sensations of queasiness the moment he caught a glimpse of Pat in the light of his sword.

Flattened against the back wall of the cave, Pat quivered before the hulking monster before him. He saw Will enter the room and steeled himself. Clasping one fist in the other, Pat grew still as if oblivious to his impending doom.

Will saw this and shouted out, “Run, Pat!” The noise confused the troll, but not as much as Pat’s spell. With a cry, Pat’s hands erupted in white light that filled the whole of the burrow.

Blinded, the troll lurched backwards, landing with a muffled thud on its rear. Covering his eyes from the illumination with his arm, Will leapt again at the disabled troll.

He made quick work of the creature, his blade slashing through the thick hide. The troll jerked, swayed, and collapsed dead to the ground.

“You did it, Pat!”

The other just beamed.

Will presented a large, gold coin he had looted from the troll’s filthy loincloth to Caleb, who smiled broadly, “When the others returned here, I thought you wouldn’t make it back. Yet, you and the fat arrive unscathed and with token in hand. Congratulations.”

“What did you have to face?” Art asked. “The scream we heard was a pack of three goblins. They were patrolling the area; apparently, we had strolled straight into their territory.”

“One of the bastards bit me arm,” Ben smiled proudly, rolling up his sleeve to reveal greening puncture wounds on his forearm.

“Those are just the nibbles from that wench you slept with last week,” Gregor jested. “Funny, I don’t remember her having that many teeth.”

“They are not,” Ben protested.

“My Grandda-” Pat began.

“Knows all about wench nibbles, does he?” chimed in Art gleefully. Pat flushed bright pink.

Will was momentarily afraid that Pat would lose his newfound confidence when the boy surprised them all.

“He’d know a great deal more than you. Though, that’s not such a low bar is it?”

Art looked at Patrick with his mouth agape as the others burst into raucous laughter. Then, Art smiled, pulled Pat into a rough embrace, and joined in the mirth.

Supper that night was a hearty roast duck stew over which the boys jested and exchanged stories of their lives before the Academy. Afterwards, Will hastily finished his homework. He played with Vale before going to bed, wrestling with the leopard cub on his hands and knees. In bed, Vale curled up at Will’s feet, resting small head on furry paws.
Good night, little cub.
Will said.

You did well today. Until tomorrow,
Vale replied with a yawn.

The next morning came too soon for Will’s liking, and he yawned widely as he rubbed his eyes. He looked at Vale and saw that he had grown during the night. The frevmat had lengthened by a great deal and stood now as tall as Will’s knee. His white spotted fur seemed softer and more luscious, having grown thick overnight. The white fangs now protruded just slightly from his mouth.
You’ve grown like a nasty weed, Vale.
Pouncing on Will’s chest, the leopard sniffed in amusement and licked at Will with a rough tongue.

Winter Frost

The subsequent days passed much as they had the previous week, and the recruits became accustomed to the new Academy environment. Will especially began to feel more at ease living inside the castle, and the weeks quickly became a blur to him. A few weeks became a few months, and then two years.

Nailfram, intense as ever, assigned most of the work Will had to do each night. Admittedly, Will had mastered several new potions, antidotes, and other herbal medicines that would have been difficult without putting forth the extra labor.

Baruktaråg proved as pleasant as his classes were interesting. They finally had exhausted t
he long-winded subject of Elven history and began learning of the past wars and failed kingdoms of Men.

As became his custom, Boewdard spoke incessantly of the power and the influence Will and Vivyan would hold in the future. Will was beginning to see that Art’s concern about Boewdard’s intentions was not unwarranted. But by then, Will had accepted that particular feature as being part of the Blademaster’s character and did not dwell on the matter.

In Beast Mastery, Worth noted the growth of each frevmat every day. For his part, Vale had grown at a breakneck pace. When he had finally stopped getting bigger, Vale stretched quite long from head to tail and stood as tall as Will’s elbow at the shoulder. The frevmat’s fangs were no longer small pricks but vicious weapons, as sharp as daggers.

Over time, Modwyn grew in Will’s mind to be more friend than teacher, and the two often talking strategy late into the night with Caleb, who had yet to be called into service much to the Warrior General’s frustration. During his time in the two Combat classes, Will’s strength increased dramatically. Under Modwyn’s tutelage, Will learned to fight as a commander, as a unit of infantry, on horseback, and even alone with Vale.

Through the immense work required of these classes, Will’s arms had swelled with muscle, becoming lined with veins; his stomach, too, shed all fat and had become firm. As his eighteenth birthday passed in the autumn of his second year at the Academy, Will noticed that he had grown into his height as well, no longer looking as if someone had stretched him out on the rack. Just as Will had grown in physical strength and height, he also boasted greater control over his abilities with a sword and without, talents that earned him the respect of the other cadets who clamored for a chance to dethrone him as the top duelist in the Range.

Brightflame, as Will was now
referred to by everyone but Art, found himself gradually becoming one of the most well-respected cadets in the Academy until it was evident that only Ogdin and his following of Scalefires harbored any resentment for Will. Despite this esteem, Will could count the number of his closest friends on one hand--Art, Pat, Gregor, Ben, and the Warrior General Caleb.

Now, two years after coupling recruit with frevmat, the Beastmaster announced an end to the project by asking the students whether they would like to keep their frevmat or not. For those that accepted the bond, a ceremony would be held on the eve of Winter Frost that would officially bind the recruits to their frevmats followed by a ball to celebrate. It was nearing Winter Frost, and Will was confronted with a problem he could not feasibly hope to rectify with his blade: he was without a dancing partner.

As he had such a phenomenal experience bonding with Vale, Will was surprised to see most recruits chose to return their frevmats. Will noted Ogdin and his gang were the first in line to be rid of their creatures. Among the recruits to decline the frevmat bond was Vivyan, who handed back the figurine of the tiger cub with a saddened expression. Her choice was the one that shocked Will the most. Often, had Will saw Vivyan flaunt her frevmat’s grace and power, a habit to which the enamored Will did not object as it provided ample opportunity to interact with Vivyan.

Of Will’s immediate friends, Gregor had soon grown bored of his flightless fledgling and Ben was never again able to find his frevmat after it disappeared into his pack the first day, so only Will and Art, whose young calf Scarp--grown into a massive bull aurochs that had to be housed in the stables due to his immense size--decided to keep their companions.

With Winter Frost and the ball fast approaching, however, Will did not dwell on his comrades’ decisions as his energy was spent instead on crafting a master strategy that would ensure his success when he finally asked Vivyan to be his dancing partner. Indeed, the whole of the castle’s energies seemed to be focused on the ball in the days building up to the ceremony.

Boewdard had been busy organizing and planning, occupied at all times if not in body then in mind. Allowing Will and Vivyan to practice magic alone in his office, the Blademaster had not been present for their lessons for some time, often showing up only at the end of the period in order to send them away.

When Will asked Boewdard what specifically he was planning that consumed so much time, the Blademaster avoided the question, “Just an unprecedented surprise. And of course, I must prepare the castle for guests. As my most gifted recruits, naturally, I will introduce you to my friends upon their arrival.”

The day before the dance, Will was growing nervous. He had tried to work up enough courage to ask Vivyan to the event but so far had fallen short of the necessary gall. Today, however, Will was intent on asking Vivyan out.

After their lessons were complete, he waited outside the Blademaster’s office for Vivyan to finish talking to Boewdard, who had asked her to stay behind for a minute. When she appeared, Will cleared his throat, praying his jelly knees would stop shaking. “Vivyan, I need to ask a favor of you,” Will began.

“Me first. Will, I am still without a dancing partner for the formal, and I had hoped you would err… well, I’d hoped you would take me, if it please you,” Vivyan said.

“It pleases me more than words can describe.”

“Save your words then,” Vivyan stroked his arm with a soft hand before turning to walk down the corridor. “Tomorrow, William.”

Spared the embarrassment of asking, Will looked up at the ceiling relieved.
A task made too easy. I’ve a partner to the formal, a partner to the formal,
Will sang to himself.

Be careful,
Vale warned.

Must it always be warnings and cautions with you? Cheer
up; I’ve got a partner to the formal.

So long as you’re happy,
Vale said forlornly.

As excited as Will was, he had trouble sleeping that night. Every time he closed his eyes, Will saw Vivyan and could not help but imagine them intertwined in passionate embrace.

The day of Winter Frost was stunning. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and stuck throughout the day. The afternoon was cloudless, allowing a cold sun to shine on the festivities of that day.

Wearing a ceremonial
wolf skin headdress to symbolize his own connection to his frevmat, Worth presided over the procession, a parade of finely dressed recruits and their animals. The Beastmaster chanted words from an ancient language that flowed beautifully together as if they were song. The incantation, flowing and imbued with passion, floated over the ears of all in attendance. Save for the dancing words and a slight wind that rustled the leaves in the trees, everything and everyone were silent.

Worth called to the raised platform from which he addressed those gathered his own frevmat, the wolf Relic. “Two bodies, one soul. From this day forward, you will live as a single being. Two bodies, one soul. Reach out now to your frevmat. Feel his energy, his breath, and his heartbeat. Know that his life’s blood is yours, that yours is his. Two bodies, one soul. Do you accept this bond?”

The query was answered with a resounding “I do” from the recruits standing by their frevmats. Will clasped the nape of Vale’s neck with a gentle hand, relishing the feel of Vale’s luxurious fur.

“Then, let it be so,” Worth concluded the ceremony. The recruits and their newly affirmed frevmats filed forwards to receive the Beastmaster’s blessing, submitting their heads for anointing.

Afterwards, Will felt that Vale and he had truly accepted the bond tying them together. Though neither the manner of their relationship nor the connection they shared had changed in the slightest, in Will’s eyes at least, the ritual made their pact official.

Upon conclusion of the ceremony, the frevmats followed Worth and Relic to the stables for their final instructions while Will, Art, and the rest began to prepare for the dance.

Will threw on a freshly washed, tunic of a fashionable sky blue color over his decorated chainmail. Feeling that nobody would have desire to disturb the night’s revelry, Will left his weapons behind. He needed not bother with his hair, for he had kept it cropped short, but Will could not help fidgeting with it all the same.

Art watched Will nervously fixing his hair and laughed. Art had asked Maribelle, Vivyan’s dearest friend, to Winter Frost before anyone else had even begun to consider asking for a partner. Art’s proposal had taken her by surprise, but with a huge smile Maribelle had consented. Suddenly as gallant as the most chivalrous knight could hope to be, Art had since been seen all over the castle with the young Soardale beauty. Indeed, the two had grown rather fond of each other over the passing weeks. Now dressed in a white tunic, Art laughed at Will with a merry glint in his eyes. “Ready, farm boy?” Art asked as Will adjusted his ornate belt. “Must be perfect for Vivyan, eh?” Art teased, receiving in response a dirty look.

Ben and Gregor met them in the common room each with a young noblewoman on his arm. Of the five friends, Pat alone had not asked for a partner’s hand, a fact that did not bother him in the slightest.

As frevmats were not invited to the formal dance, Will strutted down to the Foyer with the others, leaving Vale in the Pit. Passing his fellow Warrior, Will clapped Caleb on the back. The Warrior General merely grunted a garbled “Hail, protégé” in response, already pressed lustily against one of the Warrior twins.

“Will,” Vivyan called, gracefully gliding toward him. She was stunning, and for several moments, Will could not find his tongue. Clad in a short black dress that revealed more leg than Will had ever seen, Vivyan hugged him tightly. Her hair hung loosely about her alluring face and was perfumed lightly, giving the air about her a hint of lavender.

“You look beautiful!” Will said. “Truly gorgeous,” he said, taking her slender hand in his. A girl nearby glared jealously at Vivyan.

“I wish to dance,” Vivyan declared, leading Will out the open castle doors. A band of musicians and singers was playing soft melodies in the courtyard where a sizable area had been cleared of the snow. Several couples twirled slowly in time with the music. Vivyan pulled Will into the center of the dancing couples, and they began their dance.

For Will, this was heaven. With his hand on Vivyan
’s hip and hers on his shoulder, the distance between them was reduced to nothing. The proximity to her lips was making Will’s head swim as he debated whether or not to kiss her.

Before Will had a chance to commit to the act, Blademaster Boewdard appeared, announcing the feast ready to be served and effectively killing the mood for the time being.

At the long table, Vivyan sat close to Will on the bench, her leg brushing against his. Talking with Art and Maribelle, Will and Vivyan thoroughly enjoyed themselves, laughing for hours. Drunk with the atmosphere, Art leaned near to Maribelle and planted a kiss on her cheek. Leading him back onto the dance floor, Maribelle grabbed Art’s hand with an eager smile and left Will and Vivyan continued to sit, talking happily.

After some time, a serving girl sent by Boewdard fetched Will and Vivyan, directing them to where the Blademaster and his friends sat drinking.

“And these, my friends, are the most prized soldiers in all of Bladebeard Academy. Coincidentally, Lady Payne and Brightflame are dancing partners this eve.” The group gasped in unison at the name.

A scarred, barrel-chested man snorted, coughing up his ale. “A jest. Certainly, you jest Boewdard. Though a jape made in poor taste, I dare say. Enlisting the son of
Matthew
Stormhand
? Are you daft?”

“Blademaster Boewdard,” Boewdard corrected, his black eyes narrowed sternly. “This is no jape, Balthazar; they can change the future of our cause. Brightflame, a demonstration, if you would.”

Will looked at Boewdard, then at the party of grim men. It felt strange to be shown off like a prized possession, but Will would not embarrass the Blademaster in front of guests by refusing the request.

The man named Balthazar frowned at him, taking a swig of his brew. Closing his eyes, Will concentrated on the glass from which the man drank. “Canath,” he whispered.

The mug began to shake violently, and Will smiled broadly; his magical abilities enabled him to do things normal men would not think possible.
Not that destroying mugs is particularly difficult for me now
, Will thought smugly.

Looking rather stupid, Balthazar stared at his flagon with his mouth hanging open. His raggedy, unkempt beard fluttered from the energy now pulsing through the mug.

Suddenly, the mug exploded, spraying ale everywhere. With another muttered command, Will stopped the flying brew in mid-air. After all his practice, the use of that sort of magic hardly caused him to breathe heavily. Releasing his hold, Will allowed the droplets of drink to fall to the ground.