The Black Mage: Apprentice (6 page)

The third-year chuckled and then glanced at
her partner. "Sorry about earlier."

Darren raised a brow. "Sorry that I am not a
pretty red-haired apprentice, or sorry that you were not
trying?"

Ian grinned. "Might be a bit of both."

I hardly remembered the rest of our lesson.
He thought I was pretty.

It was only much later as I was shoveling
waste out of the barrack privies that it occurred to me to wonder
which one I had been thinking of.

"Alright, second-years. It's the moment you
have all been preparing for: today you will be participating in
your first mock battle. We host one of these at the end of each
initial field training. Which means that by the end of your
apprenticeship you will have completed four."

Master Byron marched up and down the student
line, preening in the light of his audience. "When we return to the
desert after the solstice you will no longer be completing the
schedule we've had you following the past few months. From January
through May you will be deployed in regiment missions patrolling
the Red Desert.

"Today Commander Ama and her mages will be
observing your skills. They will be using this exercise to evaluate
your level for future placement."

The other two masters – cold Master Joan from
Restoration and Master Perry of Alchemy - took over, detailing
their expectations for our simulated encounter. All sixty-one
apprentices would be divided into two teams: the second - and
fourth-year mentees against the third - and fifth-year mentors. It
wasn't intended to be a fair match, but it would give us the
opportunity to showcase what we had learned.

"Each of the teams will have a leader."
Master Perry brushed back a strand of her short blonde hair and
continued. "I leave it to you to elect a Combat apprentice for
each. Whoever you choose will be in charge of strategy. You will
have two hours to plot amongst yourselves before starting." She
paused. "Please remember this is a group effort. You will not be
doing yourself any favors by neglecting your teammates: if your
leader is captured you will automatically lose. This person will be
recognized by a black cloth they tie around their forearm."

Commander Ama joined the masters and the rest
of her infirmary under the shadow of a nearby crag. We were three
miles outside of the outpost, immersed in a true wasteland without
a building in sight. Behind us was an endless expanse of steep
cliffs, sand, and desert wildlife. Strange flowers and crooked
cacti dotted the landscape.

"This is a true-to-life battle," the bald
woman declared. Her voice was coarse and gruff, and the expression
she wore was grim. "I expect you to treat the opposing team as a
true enemy."

Ella elbowed me, snickering. "You heard her.
No special treatment for Ian. He's your
enemy
now."

I shoved her back in good spirits, "I don't
know what you are talking about."

"Apprentices – report to your teams now! You
have two hours and a limited number of supplies to prepare for your
battle."

Immediately our factions dispersed. Ella and
I followed the rest of the second - and fourth-year apprentices to
the shade of a large overhanging peak. Beside its face were fifteen
single-horse chariots, a giant crate filled with empty flasks and
common desert ingredients used in Alchemy, and thirty-one sickle
swords, the most common melee weapon of the Red Desert
regiments.

To our right, the third - and fifth-years
clustered behind a large mesa a mile away. From the loud voices
carrying through the canyon I could sense they were arguing,
undoubtedly trying to decide a leader.

"Which one of you do you think it's going to
be?" Ella visibly balked as Alex joined us at the edge of our
group. It had been two weeks since her outburst in the infirmary,
and this was the first time they had crossed paths since. My twin
didn't appear to notice, however, as he was too busy staring at the
others in front.

Most of the Alchemy and Restoration
apprentices stood quietly to the side, patiently awaiting the
outcome. It was clear they expected the Combat apprentices to make
the decision. After all, we knew best what our people were like.
The problem was that the role traditionally went to the best
fourth-year – only Priscilla, Eve, and Ray didn't appear to
agree.

"It should be Darren." Priscilla's
condescending voice rang out clearly. "He's better than anyone
here. He's a prince – if
anyone
knows how to lead an army it
would be him, not some silly lowborn."

"Apprentices are not lowborn, you naïve
little girl." The angry retort came from Jayson, a fourth-year and
former lowborn. He glared at Priscilla. "It should be Tyra. Last
year her advice brought our team victory in Ferren's Keep."

"Yes, but Darren has been training for a
career in the Crown's Army since he was five." This time it was Eve
that had spoken. "He was going to be a knight commander before he
found magic – just ask him. He's had all the best tutors. We all
did."

I bit my lip. Well that certainly explained
how the three of them had become friends. I had always wondered how
quiet Eve had fit in with Darren and Priscilla's more offsetting
ways. I knew they had all lived together in court, but now it was
clear they had spent many years training together too.

No wonder I'd felt so underprepared last
year. The three of them had been preparing for Combat - or
knighthood, at the very least - since birth.

"Fine," Jayson barked, "then let's take a
vote. Everyone - not just Combat." He turned to the rest of us,
hands on hips. "Well? Do you want a fourth-year who knows how to
win or Master Bryon's pet, an inexperienced prince who is only in
his second year?"

"I am voting for Darren," Ray said.

"Tyra," Alex and Ella both spoke up at the
same time.

The rest of the apprentices quickly cast
their vote and it was only after a moment of silence that I
realized everyone was staring expectantly at me.

"It's fifteen to fifteen, Ry," Ella
whispered.

I swallowed. My sometimes-friend, or the girl
that Priscilla didn't want to lead? It was tempting to spite the
cruel highborn for all the torment she had put me through last
year, but doing so would be a direct slight to the boy that had
helped me more times than I could count.

Darren's eyes met mine, amused. It was clear
he expected me to vote for Tyra, the same as my brother and friend.
And who would blame me? She was older and she
had
led her
team to victory…

"Darren." I couldn't let the prince down.
Even if I wanted to.

The non-heir's eyes flared in surprise and I
was rewarded with a small smile that made my insides melt.
Calm
down, Ryiah, you've moved on – remember?
His betrothed scowled.
Apparently Priscilla had wanted me to vote against Darren. What was
that about?

I didn't get a chance to consider the
implication as the prince set to work outlining our first line of
attack.

"Only the mentees have the chariots. We have
to assume the masters want us to practice the groundwork they've
been laying out in our study these past three months. The mentors,
of course, will already be skilled in defense – isn't that what you
practiced last year in the mountains, Tyra?"

The fourth-year studied the non-heir, dark
skin glistening under the full light of the stifling desert sun. It
was clear she appreciated him taking the time to seek out her
advice, even if she wasn't a leader. "We learned how to hold off a
siege," she affirmed, "but my team won last year concentrating our
strike on a small section of their barrier where their weakest
apprentices were located."

Darren nodded. "I am sure the mentors will be
prepared for an attack like that this time. More than likely
they'll alternate fifth - and third-years down their line instead
of keeping all of their weakest in one spot, but I wonder… Last
year where did they keep their Restoration and Alchemy apprentices?
Were they helping the defense, or were they hidden away with the
leader?"

"Hidden."

Darren smiled to nobody in particular.
"Perfect." He straightened and faced the rest of our group. "That's
how we'll beat them.
All
of our factions will charge – not
just Combat.

 "Restoration, those chariots all hold
two riders. Each one of you will be paired with someone from
Combat. You have two jobs: you will steer the cart and see that
your partner is safe. The Combat apprentice will be busy leading
the strike so if things go wrong it will be your job to turn the
cart around and heal them when it is safe to do so.

"I want Alchemy to start preparing any
airborne potions you can think of: liquid fire, fog, sludge,
anything that can blind the enemy or help break down their defense.
Make as many as you can and store those in flasks in each of your
carts… Each of you will lead a second chariot strike behind the
Restoration-Combat teams. Should things go wrong you will throw use
those flasks to startle the enemy, and give the rest of us a chance
to escape.

"Combat, you already know your role. Each one
of you has practiced long castings since we arrived. I want you to
use whatever long-range weapon you are most comfortable with. You
are going to lead the assault and focus on the left side of the
mentor's defense. Once we break it you will immediately seek out
the mentor's leader together as a unit, cutting your way through
with the sickle swords we've been provided."

For a moment there was absolute silence. I
was incapable of doing anything but stare. Darren had plotted an
entire battle in minutes. Jayson and Tyra were speechless. Even in
our lessons mages were only required to think for their faction. It
was the reason all the regiments had a knight as commander. A mage,
traditionally, did not have the training to lead large numbers of
men.

"We might actually win this," Ella
murmured.

"Now, the first thing I need everyone to do
is to find a partner for the chariots."

****

Master Byron was counting down from sixty –
and we had ten seconds to start.

My twin readjusted the reigns of our chariot
with a grumble. "Should have known she'd say no."

"You better stay focused," I warned. "If you
are too busy staring at Ella and steer me into a mentor's javelin
you will be very,
very
sorry."

"THREE."

"But Ronan-"

"TWO."

"He beat you in the first-year trials," I
hissed. "If anyone can protect her it's-"

"ONE."

The chariots took off. Three rows of carts
and horses took off across the sandy plain, trampling brush and
dirt as we charged the leftmost enemy lines. Alex and I, along with
the rest of the second year mentees, rode at the center of the
formation. Fourth-years maintained our lead and the Alchemy
apprentices covered the rear.

Though I didn't look I knew Darren was
watching from the top of a southern butte behind us. As our leader,
he needed to observe from a distance. Should something go wrong he
would be safe from enemy fire. The prince could still shout
commands using magic to amplify his voice, and if we needed him, he
would join us.

As Darren had predicted, the mentors had
prepared for a strike. Almost immediately I could identify Ian on
the far right of their line, stuck between two fifth-years as they
held formation. The Alchemy and Restoration mentors hid behind
those of Combat. I could see their leader Caine at the very back of
the defense, a black armband fluttering in the dry canyon wind.

The mentors weren't taking any chances. The
mentees had been given an advantage with the chariots. Caine had
known better than to tell his team to try and outrun our
attack…

But he had also made a mistake by only
utilizing his Combat apprentices to defend. The third - and
fifth-years made up only ten against our thirty.

He was in for a surprise.

I launched into my long casting. Pulse
racing, I attempted to block out everything but the sensation of
drawing a bow to the back edge of my jaw. I tried to stifle the
constant motion of the bumpy chariot as I locked eyes with the
leftmost apprentice.

Narrowing my line of sight, I recognized the
mentor as Lynn. I swallowed and picked the odd dent in her
breastplate to focus on, squinting until it became clear, all else
around it blurred.

Then I relaxed my casting's draw, letting the
phantom strings slip past as my magicked arrow zipped across the
clearing.

Two, three, four… I sent ten castings in the
blink of an eye. The barrage continued all around me as Combat
mentees targeted Lynn's defense.

At first our castings fell harmlessly, barely
grazing the mentors' barrier. But then the portion near Lynn
started to flicker, temporary lapses of a strange purple hue that
looked like veins whenever a new casting collided against it.

As soon as we were three hundred feet away
the Alchemy apprentices joined us, tossing out their fire flasks
with a practiced finesse. I was at once grateful all factions – not
just Combat - maintained such rigorous physical conditioning. If we
hadn't, they would never have been able to lob such distances
now.

The mentors' barrier emitted a loud,
earth-shattering shriek. The left side began to crumble, a cloudy
mass of gray and purple haze. It couldn't hold.

Our missiles began to land hits on the
leftmost apprentices. I watched with a shudder as our new castings,
including my own, began to hit their intended target: Lynn. Screams
began to echo across the desert landscape.

There was a loud, panicked shout from Caine
and then the mentors dropped their remaining defense and what
little attacks they'd started to cast.