Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1) (27 page)

Donovan read the story a couple of times hoping that there was some clue about how Geoffrey could heal himself, but there wasn’t.

He read a story about a monkey boy who could climb anything. It started out innocently enough, but by the end of the story, the boy could run upside down from the ceiling.

The author had written a short note at the end of the book claiming that all of the stories were true, but Donovan had his doubts. Whether they were true or not, Donovan enjoyed the distraction and became absorbed in the book, until he suddenly thought to check the time. Professor Severn’s class had started ten minutes ago. With a jolt, he remembered that today was the tournament, and he rushed out of the library without bothering to put the book away.

Rushing outside, he saw Kort facing off with Bodhi. With everyone focused on the two of them, he slowed down and snuck into the crowd of onlookers.

Kort had drawn a good matchup. Bodhi was long and lanky, and one of the least coordinated in the class. They cautiously circled each other, exchanging the occasional blow until Bodhi nearly tripped over his own feet, and Kort pounced and won the match. Donovan clapped along with the rest of the class.

“Nice of you to join us,” said Severn from behind Donovan.

“Professor Severn,” said Donovan, slowly turning around. “I—”

“Am late,” finished Severn. “I’ve already set the matchups for the students who show up to class on time. You’re going to have to sit and watch, and I assure you that this will have an impact on your final grade.”

The class had fallen silent and were intently listening to the conversation.

“But ... I ... isn’t there any—”

“None. You might as well head back inside where it’s warm.”

“Excuse me, Professor,” said Caddaric walking up beside them. “I think that Donovan should be given a chance.” He gave Donovan a predatory grin before continuing, “You should let him face the winner.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” said Severn. “I suggest you study your competition closely.” He patted Donovan on the back before walking away.

“Thanks,” deadpanned Donovan.

“Just trying to help,” said Caddaric.

The tournament played out as Donovan had expected. Delaney had already lost before he came out. It took Ravyn less than a dozen seconds to defeat Kort in the second round with a sweep that he never saw coming. Caddaric and Ravyn mechanically bested their competition and Donovan fully expected that he’d be facing one of them.

Donovan walked over to the practice weapon rack, picked up a wooden sword and lost himself in a Vanora. He’d sparred with both of them many times during the year, and been soundly defeated each time. Emptying himself of emotion, he pondered how he could compete with either of them. He’d tried to follow Professor Severn’s instruction all year, but the movements never felt natural. By the time he finished the Vanora, he’d decided what he was going to do.

He waited for the inevitable showdown between them. They attacked each other like a couple of jungle cats, neither backing down. They kept up the flurry of blows, equally matched, waiting for the slightest mistake. A tendril of Caddaric’s hair fell in front of his eyes. A flip of the head moved it out of the way, but gave Ravyn all the advantage she needed. A backhanded blow caught Caddaric on the temple and ended the match. There was a quiet applause after Cadddaric’s loss, but Donovan couldn’t hear it over the blood pounding in his ears.

Ravyn was given several minutes to catch her breath before Professor Severn summoned them to the middle of the circle formed by their classmates. He stepped in between the two of them and addressed them quietly so the rest of the class couldn’t hear.

“Try not to embarrass yourself too much, Donovan. It reflects poorly on me.”

With that said, he retreated to the circle of students.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” said Ravyn.

“Don’t hold back or you might get hurt,” said Donovan.

Ravyn nearly broke out into laughter, but she forced her face back into an expressionless mask when Severn ordered them to start.

Ravyn squared herself to Donovan and took a cautious step forward. Donovan circled to his right. They traded a few tentative blows, but Donovan refused to engage. The longer that this went on the more frustrated Ravyn got. Her eyes narrowed and bloodless lips pressed firmly together.

Donovan took two quick steps backwards and switched his stance. Staff held in only his right hand, arm cocked above his head. He looked more like a fisherman waiting to spear a fish than a warrior in the middle of a duel.

“What are you doing?” snapped Ravyn, eyes widening in surprise.

Donovan continued to circle, refusing to engage. He could hear his classmates calling him all kinds of names, but ignored them, waiting for his opportunity. Frustration growing, Ravyn overreached with a lunge and Donovan stabbed downwards with his staff, crushing the top of her foot.

Ravyn cried out in pain and hobbled backwards. Professor Severn pushed his way in between them.

“What are you doing?” he snapped. “Only strikes to the torso count.”

“I know,” said Donovan. “I didn’t think it was against the rules to strike anywhere else.”

“It isn’t,” said Severn.

“Then why did you stop it.”

His glare answered the question. He looked at Ravyn who gave a nod, before retreating out of their way.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” said Donovan.

Ravyn went into attack mode and came right at him. Donovan twisted to the side and stabbed her knee with the end of the staff. Her knee let out a sickening crunch and she collapsed to the ground. Donovan tapped her in the sternum with his staff to win the match, before dropping to her side.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful. The throbbing vein in your forehead really complements the hatred in your eyes.”

Professor Severn shoved him out of the way, and clasped her knee between his hands. A moment later, the pain left her face and she relaxed. Kort help her to stand up and guided her inside.

“That was dirty,” said Severn.

“I know,” said Donovan with a shrug, “but it worked. So, can I expect a high grade?”

“There’s a few things that I’d like to give you.”

“That almost sounded like a threat.”

“I don’t threaten students, but I might make an exception for you.”

“I see how it is,” said Donovan. “I’m the top of the class and you’re worried that you’ve gotten old and can’t keep up anymore. If you want to fight me then, quit being coy about it, and challenge me like a man.”

“You’re in for a world of hurt boy, but I’ll be nice and let you keep all of your teeth until after the ball.”

Donovan tossed his staff to Professor Severn, before heading inside with the rest of the students.

H
e found Ravyn and Kort already in their room when he entered.

“I’m sorry,” said Donovan. “I know that it was a shameful way to fight, but there’s no way that I could beat you in a fair fight.”

“Darn right it was despicable,” said Kort. Kort casually stood up and walked into Donovan, who stood his ground. Their foreheads were touching when he continued. “What if there wasn’t anyone around to help her?”

“You should listen to what you’re saying,” said Donovan. “The only reason we were sparring was because of the class, otherwise I wouldn’t have had to fight her.”

The two of them stared each other down, and neither took a step back.

“That’s enough,” said Ravyn. “You didn’t break any rules. Did you see the look on Professor Severn’s face? Now he has to award you a top mark in the class. That’ll gnaw a hole through his stomach.”

“That’s not the only thing he wants to give me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“We’re going to have our own little sparring match.”

“That’s awful.”

“Awfully convenient. I’ve been wanting to release my frustrations for a while, and now I have the perfect excuse.”

Donovan pushed Kort out of his way and walked over to his bed. He hung his wet cloak on a bed post before rummaging for a clean shirt which he quickly changed into.

“You better be careful what you wish for,” said Kort. “He’s a fully trained wizard. You won’t stand a chance against him.”

“Did you think that I would stand a chance against Ravyn?”

“No,” he said meekly.

“That’s because I wouldn’t in a conventional fight. I’ve just got to do the same thing with Professor Severn.”

“So when’s the big day?” asked Caddaric who had entered shortly after Donovan.

“Sometime after the ball. He wants me to look my best out on the dance floor.” Donovan sat down at the table, and gave Caddaric his most winning smile. “So, who is the powerful prince taking to the ball?”

“I haven’t asked anyone yet, but I got my eye on someone.”

“You’d better ask someone quick, before all the good ones are taken,” said Kort.

“I have the pick of the litter. I’m the crown prince of Rourke and no one is going to say no to me.”

“Some girls might if you keep referring to them as animals.”

“Let me show you how it is done,” said Caddaric, walking over to Ravyn and gently taking her hand. Earnestly looking into her eyes he said, “Ravyn, my moonlit goddess, will you give me the pleasure of accompanying me to the ball?”

“That actually sounded sincere,” said Ravyn.

“It was. A prince needs a great lady by his side, and there is no one greater than you. It’ll be fun, and hopefully we’ll get to know each other a bit better.”

Ravyn stood there studying him for a moment. His powerful shoulders and honest face. She reached out to stroke a strand of his dark hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I already agreed to go with someone else.”

“Break it off. Tell them you found someone better.”

She shook her head, eyes moist. “I can’t. That’s not who I am.”

“Who?”

“Me,” said Kort, stepping forward.

***

K
ort and Ravyn made their way down the stairs to the converted ballroom in the basement. Kort wore a clean white shirt and a pair of pants without too many holes in them. Delaney and Ravyn had spent many painful minutes yanking a brush through his hair so that he almost looked presentable.

Ravyn looked surreal. She was dressed simply but elegant. She wore a simple turquoise dress which accentuated her pale skin. A heart shaped locket, etched with angel wings hung from a gold chain around her neck. She had told Kort that her father had given it to her when she went home during the break in classes.

The hall had been transformed from a meal hall into a ballroom. The walls were covered in black curtains covered in glitter. A large orb hung from the center of the room, basking it in imitation moonlight. Only a few tables remained near the edge of the room, bearing refreshments and an assortment of appetizers. A small stage had been erected, and a band of minstrels were playing a slow song.

Ravyn looked around the room. The men were all dressed quite simply, while the women mostly wore plain, pastel colored dresses.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, eyes wide as she looked around the moonlit room.

“It sure is,” said Kort, staring at the locket resting on her chest.

“Let’s grab a snack.”

The two of them crossed to the side tables, walking arm in arm, to sample the simple fare that Mama B had prepared specially for the ball. They made polite chitchat while Ravyn surveyed the room, eyes darting around as if she was expecting foes to appear at any moment.

“Where’s Donovan?” she asked.

“I don’t think he’s coming.”

“We’re all required to attend. I better go find him.”

Kort draped an arm across her shoulders to prevent her from running off. “I already told him that,” he said. She gave him a glare, and he felt that she didn’t believe that he would have tried to be responsible. “What could they do to him? They’re not able to fail him for it and, even if they did, he is not even sure if he’s coming back next year anyways.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, not sounding convinced at all. “Who’s that with Caddaric?”

Caddaric and his date had just entered the room. He was wearing a suit similar to the one he wore to dinner at the keep over the winter break, except with more flashy jewelry.

His date towered over him. Clearly a few years older than him, she had developed in ways which many of the girls in the room hadn’t as of yet. Golden curls cascaded down a low-cut, cream colored dress. She had a huge smile on her face which showed off her dimples.

Seeing the two of them standing there, Caddaric ushered his date over to them.

“Katen, these are my friends Ravyn and Kort,” said Caddaric.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she said, shaking their hands.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” said Kort, “and I can assure you that I wouldn’t forget someone as lovely as you.”

“I’m in my fourth year at Haven,” she said, blushing slightly at Kort’s compliment.

“Fourth year,” repeated Ravyn. “How did you and Caddaric become acquainted?”

“When a prince asks you to do something, you don’t say no,” she said, wrapping herself around Caddaric and holding him tight. Caddaric gave Ravyn a look, while resting his head on her bosom.

“You must have learned all kinds of things in your four years,” said Ravyn with a fake smile. “I’m sure you could teach Caddaric a thing or two.”

“I’m only here because Daddy keeps sending me back. I’ve flunked more classes than I passed. That’s why you need to know people who are rich and powerful, like my little prince here.” She gave Caddaric a kiss on his cheek which was rapidly turning pink, and not from the heat of her embrace.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to mingle with everybody else,” said Caddaric.

“It was lovely to meet you, Katen,” said Ravyn.

Kort mumbled an intelligible farewell through a mouthful of pastry.

Ravyn waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Kort. “Can you believe that? Bringing some tramp here just to stand out.”

“She seemed nice,” said Kort.