The Black Mage: Apprentice (13 page)

I choked back relief. We were winning. Seven
dead, three injured…

One of the dead raiders rose, scorch marks
trailing like dark rivulets across his face. The others didn't see
him – and Darren, Darren was too busy casting to notice.

I gave a hoarse cry but he was too far
away.

"
No!!!!!!!
" Caine spotted the raider
and launched himself forward, shoving the non-heir to the ground.
The arrow embedded itself in the boy's chest.

Caine did not scream. Eyes open, mouth shut,
he toppled to the ground, soundless. And then he went limp.

Darren struggled to pull himself up and make
sense of what happened. Then he spotted Caine and a strangled
scream severed the air. Magic flew from his hands. The raider who
had just feigned death moments before dropped, lifeless.

Then Darren fainted. I started forward but my
stomach rose up, roaring complaints. Unhappily, I stayed where I
was and watched as another apprentice went to help the fallen
fifth-year and the prince instead. Caine was gone. There was
nothing anyone of us could do.

In the distance I could hear the shouts of
the Ishir Regiment.
Thank the gods.
I clutched my ribs and
breathed in a gasp of relief. The reinforcements had come.

Galloping forward Master Byron and the
regiment mages charged the three remaining raiders, casting heavy
metal nets that encased them within seconds. They sent in groups of
men to take care of the bodies, the fallen soldiers and Caine, and
then, finally, for us.

The last thing I remembered was my twin's
face.

Bloodshot eyes. Alex. Screaming. "
Where's
Ella?
"

I pointed, and then I shut my eyes.

"He's not eating. He hasn't eaten anything in
days." The hysteria in Priscilla's voice was rising. "Please,
Ronan, do something."

"I can't – he's in grief. The only thing that
will help is time."

"
That's not good enough
!"

"Apprentice Priscilla, if you cannot keep
your voice down I must ask you to leave." Master Joan's frosty
voice cut through the air like a whip. The apprentice let out a
shriek and stomped out of the infirmary tent, flies buzzing all
around her as she snapped the flaps shut.

I opened my eyes, uncomfortably aware of the
pungent smell of sweat and blood that was filling my nostrils.
Thick, foul-smelling hides covered the tent frames. Everywhere I
looked, soldiers and apprentices lay in cots. Bandages and vials
were piled on tables nearest their beds. Restoration mages and
apprentices dotted the room, alternating from one patient to the
next as they continued to cast and treat naturally depending on
their patient's symptoms.

In the cot nearest I could see Ella. Her dark
skin glistened under the cracks of sunlight that were coming in
through the entrance and black locks were plastered to her neck.
She was already awake. As soon as she spotted me she gave a small
smile. "Never thought we'd make it out alive," she croaked.

A Restoration apprentice raced forward to
bring her water and then turned to offer the same to me. I drank
down the cold liquid greedily and immediately the sharp headache
I'd been feeling faded into a minor ache.

"Alex, your two favorite patients are awake,"
the girl called to my twin at the far side of the room. My brother
rushed forward, a thick line of sweat staining his forehead as he
attempted to wipe it away – only to smear blood and grime in its
place. He looked worse than I felt. I wondered how long he'd been
here treating us.

"Ryiah… Ella..." He immediately fell to the
floor between us with a thud. His blue eyes were glittering.

"Calm down, handsome, they weren't going to
leave you." The apprentice rolled her eyes at my brother's
dramatics. "Your sister and lady love just needed some rest."

My twin didn't appear to hear. He kept
staring at Ella, and there was something about the way my brother
looked at her that made me feel like I was intruding.

"I – I thought I'd never see you again," he
rasped.

Ella coughed weakly. "It would take a lot
more than that to kill me."

"Don't say that." He reached down to take her
hand. I immediately averted my gaze. "Don't ever say that. You have
no idea what I went through knowing you were out there,
fighting…"

"Just stop talking and kiss me, Alex."

I attempted to stand, ignoring the protests
of the Restoration mages around me as I left the two of them their
privacy. As soon as I had left the tent I found Eve standing
outside, looking upset and staring out at the rest of the oasis in
frustration.

"Eve." I walked over to the pale girl. "How
is everyone?"

"Caine's dead. Ten knights and one of the
Combat mages from Ishir are dead. Half the Mahj soldiers are dead.
How are we supposed to be?" The girl's voice broke and I realized
she was close to crying.

"Have the prisoners talked?"

"They killed themselves before the regiment
could question them. Slit their necks with their own blades as soon
as the nets fell."

"Do you know if they were Calothian mages?" I
asked suddenly. "Did we find out who they were?"

She laughed coldly. "They were
ours
.
It's why they kept their faces hidden. I even recognized two of
them from the Crown's Army… They weren't bandits or raiders, Ryiah,
they were
rebels
. My father's men. Men I knew.
Why would
they do this?
"

"Rebels?"

She drew a shaky breath. "It's why they were
so prepared. Commander Ama thinks they wanted to stop the salt
trade between Jerar and the Borea Isles. She said this is the first
time this has happened – and she is sending a letter to the palace
in Devon to alert my father and King Lucius." Her eyes met mine,
suddenly anxious. "If some of the mages are leading a revolt then
we can't be sure this won't happen again. Who knows how many others
they may have recruited. What if this was only the beginning?"

There hadn't been a war within Jerar or any
of the neighboring continents since Jerar had signed the Great
Compromise almost a century back. There were rumors that Caltoth
was trying to expand its southern border, but there had never been
a formal demand and the Crown was careful to avoid a war with its
northern neighbor at all costs. Breaking the multi-country treaty
would end any support with the other two continents and cost us
dearly.

Not once had I considered a rebellion in our
own kingdom. Unlike Caltoth whose taxes were excessive, the Borea
Isles with its high poverty, and Pythus with its stigma against
women, we lived a relatively comfortable existence. The three war
schools gave our men
and
women the chance to rise from the
lower trades to one of well renown. Even as merchants, my parents
had never once complained about the demands of the Crown.

"Do you think the mages were employed by
Caltoth?"

Eve shrugged. "It's the only explanation. Why
else would they turn against the Crown? A mage lives a better life
than most highborns."

I swallowed. "They wanted Darren. The second
they saw him their leader ordered an attack."

"Yeah." Eve glanced back to the tent – the
non-heir was no longer inside but she must have heard Priscilla
too. "He's not handling it very well. He feels personally
responsible for Caine's death…" She sighed. "I tried to reason with
him but I don't think Darren is willing to listen to anyone right
now."

****

The following night, on the last evening
before we departed Mahj the locals put together a large funeral
pyre for the fallen. Seventy-one bodies were placed on the wooden
platforms, and when they lit the fire it burned heavily into the
black desert skies.

Each one of us stood quietly at attendance,
solemn in the face of our heavy loss. Many of the regiment leaders
from Ishir and Mahj spoke highly of their men, and even Master
Byron gave an earnest speech for Caine. There was something
terrible about losing someone so young – and he had been so close
to his ascension, only five months from earning his black robes of
Combat. It had been twenty years since the Academy had lost one of
their students in training. An apprenticeship was supposed to be a
sheltered form of learning, yet the last battle had just proven how
even that was not a certainty.

Several fourth and fifth-years retired early
that evening, mourning their comrade's loss more heavily than the
rest. My heart went out to them. I hadn't known Caine very well,
except for that day during our mock battles, but it was clear he
had been a promising student and mentor to those who had known him.
More than the rest, Tyra and Jayson had seemed particularly
distraught during the rite.

I glanced to Darren to see how the prince was
faring. I had barely seen him around camp. Alex had told me that
morning he was still refusing treatment from the infirmary
mages.

The prince looked sickly – too pale,
far
too pale for someone that had spent an entire summer
under a hot desert sun. There was a hollowness to his face and his
clothes seemed unusually ill-fitted. His eyes were black. No longer
garnet, they seemed to me two lakes of shadow, unfathomable against
the red pyre of death.

Priscilla took Darren's hand, but he showed
no knowledge of her presence. The prince watched the dancing orange
flames and I was convinced he saw nothing else.

He looked so fragile standing there. So lost.
I felt a strong urge to help him any way that I could. But
she
was there. And there was nothing I could say that hadn't
already been said.

After the pyre there was a feast. Local
custom dictated food and dance to honor the dead. A flask was
passed around the circle. A group of the miners returned, carrying
a set of pipes and a couple of local instruments.

People immediately broke out into groups,
clapping and laughing as they spanned across the fire in a familiar
folk dance. Most of the apprentices watched but a couple joined in.
Alex wasted no time taking Ella's hand, and as I watched the two of
them spin I felt a hot wave of jealousy sweep over me. I wanted to
dance. I wanted to be swept up in the long desert night, sending a
farewell to the fallen and embracing the living.

I looked one more time to Darren. The prince
was emotionless, numb. I thought back to that night two days ago,
under the shade of the palms. What had he started to say?
"If
things were different."
They would never be different. Knives
stabbed at my chest as I watched Priscilla embrace him, giving him
a long kiss on the mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck
while he stared into space. She was beautiful, rich, and he was
hers. Not mine. Darren would never be mine.

I looked to the other side of the circle. Ian
sat next to Lynn, listening patiently as my mentor chattered away.
He was smiling – but the smile never reached his eyes. Something
was missing.
Was it me
?

He wanted me. I knew it. He had almost kissed
me in that canyon, and I had seen the way he looked at me that
night in the Academy halls. "
If you really want Ian, you will
find a way. It's an easy thing to want someone – it's another to
love them."

Ella was right. Ian was right. I needed to
make a choice now: the cold, distant prince or the laughing friend.
And once I chose I needed to fight for it. I would never win the
former, and maybe not even the latter… But I could try.

Picking up the hem of my trailing orange and
gold-beaded skirts, I stood, brushing the dust out of my loose red
hair as I walked across the sand. I stopped when I was in front of
Ian, suddenly nervous and not at all myself.

"Dance with me."

Lynn stopped talking to stare at me. My
mentor had confusion and outrage written across her face. I felt
horrible. I should stop. She didn't deserve this.

But I had said I would fight. I was tired of
wanting something I couldn't have. There was someone I could have,
maybe
, but in order to know that I would have to try. Even
if that meant hurting someone else.

I remained stubbornly still, ignoring Lynn as
I smiled down at Ian.

The curly-haired third-year studied me – a
question in his eyes. I could see the fear, half-hidden between
flecks of gold. A small grin tugged at the side of his mouth. Then
the laugh lines took over and he was smiling wide, mumbling an
apology to my mentor as he led me to the floor.

"I don't really know how to dance," I
muttered as he placed one hand on my waist and lifted my arm with
the other.

"Then why did you ask me?" His eyes caught
mine and held them.

"Because I never want you to dance with
anyone else."

The music started up again. A wonderful tune,
full of stomping beats and carefree whirls. Ian abruptly spun me,
and the two of us launched into a makeshift dance with the rest of
the crowd. I was reminded of that night we met at the Academy ball
– the night he had made me feel like flying.

My dress shimmered as I spun, the beads
reflecting the light of the fire and creating a heady rush of
glitter while I slipped in and out of his arms. I couldn't stop
laughing and Ian's eyes were two embers aglow. My cheeks burned
with the fervent rush of the dance and I found myself unable to
stop, trapped in an endless feeling of right.

Nothing had ever felt as sure as when Ian
caught me and slipped, the two of almost falling to the ground in a
dizzy rush. He barely pulled us up before we returned to the floor,
the two of us unable to keep the silly grins off our faces as we
spun around the campfire light.

"Are you really mine?" he whispered. His
mouth was close to my ear.

"You were all I ever wanted."