《Xen's Chosen》


 Prologue

    O¡¯tambwe walked down the dusty road, his brown eyes alert. The tall old man¡¯s black skin and black robes embroidered with gold enchantments struck an imposing figure. His face was weatherworn, and his head bald. He stooped as he walked with an awkward gait, but not because of age. Cupped in his palm was the hand of his daughter who was barely up to his knee, dressed similarly in clothes of his own design. The sun beat down on the two of them, covering their surroundings with a shimmering blanket of heat.


    He smelled smoke.


    He gazed out to the village ahead of him. It was, to all appearances, an ordinary farming community. A cloud of dust made its way to the east, moving away from O¡¯tambwe even as a plume of black smoke rose from the distant cottages. On a beautiful day like this, there would be men working, children playing, and women resting in the shade surreptitiously watching the men. He saw none of these things.


    The village was on the outskirts of the Empire, nearly falling in the shade of Feld Mountain, the towering landmark dominating the center of the land. It was visible from every corner of the continent, with a shape so unique that children were taught to place themselves on a map simply by reading the mountain. A village on the outskirts like this one had no defense against attack, but on the unified continent there weren¡¯t any particularly large groups of outlaws who would do this.


    ¡°Little one,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, bending to speak to his daughter. ¡°Your father is going to see if anyone needs his help. I want you to hide here and if anyone tries to hurt you, throw this at them.¡± He gingerly placed the magic bound with soft clay in her tiny hands. He knew no harm could come to her as long as she wore his enchantments, but it made both of them feel better for her to be armed, albeit with a nonlethal spell.


    Neya darted off the road and dived into the sea of wheat. She began looking for the best vantage to observe her father, and run to his rescue if he needed her help. She gripped the clay ball in one hand and began crawling forward, shadowing her father.


    O¡¯tambwe eyed his daughter flopping through the wheat, making a mess of both her clothes and the field and sighed, turning his attention back to the village that was just now beginning to show visible flames. He began trotting, maintaining the most comfortable pace his age would allow. In a few short minutes he arrived at the well in the center of the village.


    His gaze passed over the brutalized corpses of men and women intermingled with a handful of dead giants, their skin unnaturally white. The giants were nine feet tall and riddled with deep wounds, while the humans surrounding them showed signs of being stabbed with spears or hacked with swords.


    O¡¯tambwe¡¯s brows furrowed. Not a single human looked like they had been hit with the kind of force one of these giants could muster. He would have expected at least a few of the villagers to be cleaved in two or an entire side of their body to be crushed.


    O¡¯tambwe shook his head and looked up at the burning homes. He needed to see if there was anyone he could save now, rather than search for clues that would help no one.


    ¡°Hello!¡± he shouted, his thin voice lost in the now roaring blaze of many former cottages. ¡°Is there anyone alive? I am a wizard from the country of A¡¯ktala, I can help!¡±


    No response. O¡¯tambwe looked about, his eyes watering as the smoke thickened. Giving up the worst burning cottages as lost, he began searching ones that had not yet been consumed by the fire.


    He had braced himself, but seeing what he already suspected was unnerving. Men, women, and children had been put to the sword in each house. They were lined up in their main rooms as if there had been a head count before they were removed from the Weave. At last the heat became too great and O¡¯tambwe was forced to abandon his search.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Back at the well, O¡¯tambwe drew a bucket of water and smelled it before he drank. Wells are prime targets in warfare, and he would not have been surprised to detect the faint odor of sewage. The water seemed clean enough, so he drank. He poured the rest of the bucket over his head, intending to try one more house before he gave up on the town.


    Looking up, he noticed one house near the edge of the village was slower to burn than the rest. The others danced in flames so ferociously no amount of water would have saved his skin.


    Dripping, O¡¯tambwe limped through the oppressive heat of the village to the last building, his body no longer able to sustain heroics for any length of time. If anyone was even alive in that house, a few moments more would not kill them. He reached into his midnight black robe for a small charm made of gold. It contained the spell he had made for his wife. If there was someone there whose soul hadn¡¯t yet departed, it could help them.


    Sadly the scene in the last house was no better than any of the others, with one exception. Beyond the man and woman who lay slain in the center of the room was the body of another grown man, wearing riding gear and holding an extinguished torch.


    He lay in a steaming puddle of soup. His face was a mass of blisters contorted in a rictus of pain. The handle of a kitchen knife protruded from between his ribs. The dead rider¡¯s sheath was conspicuously empty, and there was no sword to be found on the rough wood floor of the cottage.


    The next instant, O¡¯tambwe felt a heavy blow ring from the nape of his neck.


    Neya was sneaking around to the last house her father had entered when she heard the ring of steel on stone, and a child screaming. Neya abandoned her clever hiding spot and sprinted towards her father¡¯s last known location.


    She tripped, tumbling end over end, and slid to a stop, her face in the dirt.


    When Neya got to her feet, both knees were bleeding from the rough tumble, there was dirt in her mouth, and her eyes stung from the smoke. The only thing she could think to do was plop down and cry for help.


    The powerful enchantments woven in O¡¯tambwe¡¯s robe broke the sword, and the boy hiding in the rafters fell to the ground. The thing that disturbed O¡¯tambwe the most was that he had not stayed down, or crawled away, or cried out. Instead the boy rolled to the dead rider and pulled the knife from the corpse¡¯s breast.


    In the space of a breath, he leapt at O¡¯tambwe, trying in vain to disembowel the wizard. The knife bounced and dented against O¡¯tambwe¡¯s stomach a half dozen times before he could grasp the child¡¯s wrists.


    ¡°Be calm child, I am not one of them,¡± he said, gently holding the struggling child. ¡°I am here to help you.¡± At last the boy began to cry out. Beginning as a whimper, his voice rose to a wail. At the height of his screams the boy¡¯s breath gave out and he collapsed, sagging in O¡¯tambwe¡¯s grip.


    O¡¯tambwe looked down at the sleeping child. If he had not been a wizard dressed for the dangers of the world, he would have died today. The rider¡¯s sword was shattered, strewn across the floor. The boy had hauled it up into the rafters above his head and fell on O¡¯tambwe sword first, rightly expecting gravity to do the work of muscle. He was dressed as a child of this village, not much more than a burlap sack cinched about his waist with a rough rope.


    O¡¯tambwe saw nothing wrong with him, physically. He was unnerved though, at the efficacy of this child¡¯s attempt on his life. Unnatural for one the same size as my Neya. He thought to himself. This little one may grow to be a monster, but perhaps with the right guidance, he could be Neya¡¯s monster.


    It was about that time, as the wizard was contemplating the boy¡¯s fate that he heard his daughter crying and shouting for him. O¡¯tambwe let out another sigh and slid his weathered hands underneath and scooped up the boy, carrying him out to see what trouble she¡¯d gotten into herself into.


    Neya, true to form, was sitting in the center of a burning village with both knees skinned. She didn¡¯t say anything, just wordlessly shrieked and reached for her father.


    O¡¯tambwe laid his burden down next to her and picked up his daughter, one arm supporting her while she smeared snot on his robes worth a king¡¯s ransom. With his other hand he pressed his wife¡¯s healing charm against her forehead. Shortly she wound down to sniffling, and then stopped altogether.


    Neya began getting restless, kicking him in her squirming. He set her down. ¡°Better now, little one?¡± he asked.


    Neya nodded, finally taking an interest in the boy her father had placed next to her. ¡°Who is that, papa?¡± she asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a boy who¡¯s lost his parents today,¡± Otambwe said, glancing down at the village boy. ¡°I am going to look after him, and in return he can help me look after you.¡±


    Neya looked down at the unconscious child. ¡°But he¡¯s not wearing any pants!¡± she said, pointing at him.


    You only get one chance to make an impression, O¡¯tambwe thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Unnoticed by Neya, his hand casually touched the nape of his neck. The impression the boy had made on O¡¯tambwe left a thin trail of blood oozing down his skin.

 Chapter 1: Kill Yourself for Extra Credit.

    Ezyk walked along the paved road leading away from the academy towards the clearing used from day to day as a practice field for any discipline that could result in bodily harm. His heart pounded in his chest and his limbs tingled with excitement. Today they would get to see some real magic, not glorified trade school.


    O¡¯tambwe had pounded the basics of a dozen disciplines into the students, day after day, and today was the day he would give them their first lesson on spellcraft rather than carving, calligraphy, chemistry and metallurgy, history or math.


    Beside, in front and behind Ezyk were the other students of O¡¯tambwe¡¯s Wizardry class, chatting amongst themselves in the morning sun. They filed into the practice field and took their seats on the stone semicircle at the edge of the grass.


    O¡¯tambwe stood near them with a table stacked high with bowls, paper, and what seemed to be a knitting needle. A large barrel of water and several buckets were nearby. There were suspicious swaths of grass between where they stood and O¡¯tambwe himself that were blackened as though they had caught fire.


    O¡¯tambwe motioned for the students to sit on the seats facing him. As soon as the class had settled down, he got their attention.


    ¡°Good afternoon children,¡± he said, standing in front of the table. ¡°It has been a long time coming, and today you will begin to learn practical magic.¡± The class gave a cheer, and Ezyk grinned.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he continued, ¡°from this afternoon on you will be able to kill yourself, your friends and family just by writing a few words on paper.¡± The students went silent.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡± O¡¯tambwe said after giving his words a moment to sink in. ¡°Long ago, when the world was created, the gods devised a written language that was so intrinsically linked to the things it represented, that it would allow them to change the world as they saw fit. In the end, the gods left us to our own devices, and the master key to reality they left for any man to use. Why then, is wizardry such a rare art? Am I not teaching a group of twenty five this very thing? There are many reasons. The more obvious I will share with you.¡±


    ¡°First, it¡¯s difficult,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, holding up a gnarled finger. ¡°These runes resist being used. You¡¯ll see what I mean today.¡± He held up another finger. ¡°Second, it¡¯s complicated. There are more than three thousand of these words that we know of, some so similar in shape that a layman could not pick out the difference. And others that we know must exist, but we do not know the rune for.¡±


    O¡¯tambwe extended his thumb. ¡°And lastly, it¡¯s dangerous. If every one of you is careful, and take the best precautions, only one or two of you will die. But we all know you¡¯ll get confident in yourself eventually, and sooner or later you¡¯ll start to drop like flies.¡± O¡¯tambwe scanned the nervous students for a moment, his eyes briefly resting on Ezyk before moving on.


    ¡°Case in point, there is a small charm that could be used to clean your boots,¡± Otambwe said, pointing to his feet. ¡°This combination of runes is almost identical to one which would gut you like a fish. My advice is to play it smart and never, ever, clean your boots with the power of the gods.¡± This got a small laugh.


    O¡¯tambwe moved to stand beside the table. ¡°I have, for each of you, a book of common runes arranged by similarity and complexity,¡± he said, patting the books. ¡°If you want to live a good long life, cross reference the runes of every spell you create with similar runes to make absolutely sure it¡¯s not going to release a poisonous gas or hell spawn beast if you forget a stroke.¡±


    O¡¯tambwe clapped his hands together and spoke. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve hopefully impressed on you the danger of magic,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, eyeing the students with a malevolent grin. ¡°There is one little trick that will prevent you from killing yourself almost entirely. And that is blood.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to pool a small amount of blood from each of you into these bowls,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, motioning to the bowls. ¡°Which you will then use as the ink for your first forays into the magical arts.¡±


    The students whispered to each other, most of them sneaking terrified looks at the needle that until recently had seemed innocuous. Ezyk heard the phrase ¡®blood magic¡¯ tossed around more than once before a small girl near the front raised her hand.


    ¡°Yes, my dear?¡± O¡¯tambwe asked with a smile as he unfolded a velvet cloth filled with shiny needles.


    ¡°How does using our blood prevent us from hurting ourselves?¡± she asked. ¡°It seems like the opposite!¡± Ezyk was sure that he and everyone else were thinking the exact same thing, which meant this was part of the old man¡¯s game.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked my dear,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°It¡¯s a simple matter of the spell assuming properties of the medium with which it was created.¡± The blank stares of the class had O¡¯tambwe befuddled for a moment. He scratched his bald head for a moment before tossing one of the needles to the closest student, a young man with a fair, freckled face.


    ¡°Kill yourself,¡± O¡¯tambwe said.


    The boy sat stock still in the seat as every eye turned to him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you extra credit,¡± Otambwe said. ¡°Award you with full marks posthumously.¡±


    The freckled boy shook his head.


    ¡°Do it,¡± Otambwe said, placing his index finger on his neck. ¡°Just line the needle up with the major vein here, and go to sleep. That¡¯s not so hard.¡±


    The boy shook his head emphatically, his hands shaking.


    O¡¯tambwe roared, ¡°Do it!¡±


    The freckled young man dropped the needle onto the grass and began crawling away from the wizard, climbing up the stone steps to seek safety with his friends.


    ¡°Sorry, Paul,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, stooping to retrieve the needle as he addressed the class. ¡°Put simply, a spell created from a living creature¡¯s blood cannot directly harm that creature, since it is anathema for a living creature to kill itself.¡± Still, silence reigned.


    ¡°I suppose a demonstration would convince you?¡± he asked, raising a brow as he scanned the students. This met general enthusiasm from the class.


    Ezyk leaned forward, eager to see what would happen next. He was unprepared for O¡¯tambwe, the wizard who had raised him like a son for 9 years to suddenly slip out of his robe, revealing himself in all his wrinkled majesty. Amid the silent squinting, scattered groans and a single catcall, O¡¯tambwe calmly folded his robe and placed it on the table before taking up one of the bowls and a clean needle.


    With a practiced motion, O¡¯tambwe jabbed the needle into his left wrist. The open end of the needle spurted blood into the bowl he held with his left hand. No more than 4 seconds went by before he withdrew the needle and held his thumb over his wrist. O¡¯tambwe set the bowl of blood down and took up a small necklace Ezyk had not noticed next to the bowls.


    After a moment, he set it back down and removed his thumb, revealing that the bleeding had stopped and the hole in his wrist was gone. ¡°Good,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, flexing his left hand. ¡°We can begin.¡±  O¡¯tambwe picked up the bowl with a flourish and grabbed a sheet of paper. He then moved a short way away from the table and sat cross legged, setting the bowl beside him.


    ¡°This is a worst case scenario,¡± he said, dabbing his middle finger into the bowl.  O¡¯tambwe began tracing an intricate symbol on the paper. The air began to feel thick, shimmering around the old wizard and pressing against the sensitive tissue of Ezyk¡¯s eyes.


    O¡¯tambwe burst into flame.


    A wave of heat washed across the faces of the onlookers, causing Ezyk to throw his arm over his eyes. Somewhere someone screamed as the boy in front of Ezyk prepared to bolt.


    A moment later, the heat was gone. Ezyk stood, because the boy in front of him was blocking his view. Looking to the left and right, Ezyk saw the rest of the class standing as well. In front of them was O¡¯tambwe with his arms akimbo, his skin glowing a deep red in the afternoon sun.


    ¡°Thus will using your own blood protect you from most harm,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, still nude. ¡°But not from everything. A wizard in the military can¡¯t afford to be bleeding themselves constantly either. Sooner or later you are going to have to work without that safety net.¡±


    ¡°So, who wants to quit while they¡¯re alive?¡± O¡¯tambwe asked.  A few hands shot up, a shorter girl going so far as to bounce on her toes. Ezyk was frightened, but the appeal of the fantastic drew him in, and so he kept his hand down.


    O¡¯tambwe¡¯s gaze crossed each person with their hand up, briefly settling on Ezyk. ¡°That is the correct answer,¡± he said, a smile forming on his weather worn face.  ¡°You will make excellent wizards. I can¡¯t actually allow you to leave my class, but that level of caution is exactly what I expect. Now form a line in front of the table.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    O¡¯tambwe slowly walked over to the table, and very gingerly slid his robe on, grimacing as the silk slid over his tender skin.  As students filed by him, he quickly went about handing them a book from under the table, a bowl, and a paper from the stack.


    When Ezyk¡¯s turn came, he spoke up. ¡°Are you all right sir?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I expect I¡¯ll peel tomorrow¡± O¡¯tambwe said, giving him a grin that was shockingly white framed by his dark, burnt skin.


    After all the students were seen to, O¡¯tambwe gave them a quick lesson on spell structure before allowing them to sit wherever they liked to read their books. O¡¯tambwe only insisted that if a student wished to try a combination of runes they would allow O¡¯tambwe to review it first. Then O¡¯tambwe would draw a bit of their blood into a bowl to allow them to work the spell safely. Other than that, they were free to peruse their books and begin building their own spells.


    Ezyk sat down with his friend Jaque, and they began looking through the runes together. ¡°That line about gutting you like a fish couldn¡¯t possibly be right,¡± Jaque said, resting his chin on his palm as he flipped through the pages. ¡°It has nothing to do with cleaning boots.¡± Jaque scanned the pages quickly.


    ¡°Oh wait,¡± Jaque said, squinting as his gaze flickered between two runes. ¡°Nevermind, ¡®clean¡¯ and ¡®hollow out¡¯ are unbelievably similar. Yeah, I could see that happening.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s expecting us to make our own spells,¡± Ezyk said impatiently. ¡°Let¡¯s browse through the simplest runes for useful ones. That way we¡¯ll be allowed to try it out sooner than everyone else.¡±


    Jaque ignored him and was flipping through pages with increasing excitement, holding several places with his fingers while delving deeper into the book. ¡°Hold on, I need to check something,¡± Jaque said, dashing off toward O¡¯tambwe. Ezyk decided to not bother with him for the time being and began scanning through the first five pages for possible combinations.


    Jaque came trotting back with his cheeks flushed and a stupid grin plastered on his face. ¡°What did you do?¡± Ezyk asked, hoping his friend hadn¡¯t done anything that would spill over onto his shoulders.


    ¡°I am a genius,¡± Jaque declared, sitting cross legged in front of him ¡°I showed O¡¯tambwe my plan for a breast expansion spell, and with only a minor revision he says it will work perfectly.¡±


    Ezyk was speechless. Mostly he was aghast at his friends impending misuse of magic, but a small part of him was curious. ¡°And what was this minor revision?¡± Ezyk asked.


    ¡°An extra rune to allow the growth to stop.¡° Jaque said, getting back up again.


    Ezyk rolled his eyes and went back to scanning the page. His eyes caught the simple rune representing lodestone that looked somewhat like an apple that had been sliced in half. As a child, he always found it fascinating trying to push together like ends of lodestone and having them magically repel each other. If he could find a way to make other things behave like lodestone...The only problem of course was that lodestone attracted as well as repelled itself, he¡¯d have to find a way to harness only one aspect of it.  What If he made everything within a small area essentially represent an equal and identical amount of lodestone? That would either cause everything to be drawn in or repelled.


    Ezyk got to his feet and walked to where O¡¯tambwe stood. ¡°Sir, I¡¯d like to build a spell based on lodestone.¡± He said. ¡°Oh? Describe it to me, young man.¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°I¡¯d like to use these runes,¡± Ezyk pointed at the Lodestone rune, the Becoming rune, Symmetry rune, and the Cloud rune. ¡°to make an area around the spell in which everything will repel everything else, the purpose of this enchantment would be to turn aside sword and arrow blows.¡±


    O¡¯tambwe looked over the runes with a frown. ¡°This is not my speciality,¡± Ot¡¯ambwe said flipping through Ezyk¡¯s book. ¡°But substitute this,¡± he pointed at the cloud rune. ¡°With these two.¡± he pointed at two others, further back in the book than Ezyk had looked. ¡°And you will have a more definite border.¡±


    ¡°If you make an enchantment out of two pieces of lodestone bound together against their own force you should be on the right track,¡± Otambwe said, glancing up at Ezyk from his seat in the shade. ¡°It would make the spell permanent, set the poles of the spell properly, and reinforce the power of the Lodestone Rune.¡±


    Ezyk was about to ask where he might get a large enough lodestone when O¡¯tambwe put a hand on his shoulder, looking past him. ¡°Be somewhere else right now,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°I would prefer it if you were beneath their notice.¡±


    Ezyk glanced over his shoulder and saw the Dean bearing down on them, a dark look on his face. Behind him was the son of count Heager. Until recently he had been a member of the class, but he had stormed off a week ago when O¡¯tambwe had moved from a month of minerals and smelting to a weeklong primer on woodcarving and scrimshaw.


    Ezyk turned to stand beside O¡¯tambwe rather than hide. O¡¯tambwe looked down at Ezyk with a glimmer of frustration before addressing the now arriving Dean. ¡°Dean Richmond, what business brings you here today?¡± O¡¯tambwe made a small bow.


    The dean looked over the field of students with their heads bent over books, conversing in twos and threes. He looked back at Otambwe. ¡°What are they doing?¡± he asked, his face growing red.


    ¡°They are learning, my friend.¡± O¡¯tambwe said.


    ¡°This boy here told me that you had been teaching these student nothings they could not learn from an engineering course,¡± The Dean said. ¡°Of course I didn¡¯t believe him, but then another came to me not five minutes ago, and told me you¡¯d asked for volunteers to quit, told a boy to kill himself!¡±


    The Dean¡¯s face grew redder and his voice rose ¡°Then she confirmed that today was the first day you taught any real wizardry!¡± he shouted ¡°The Empire is not funding your class for smiths, carpenters, engineers and scrimshaw artists! They want wizards to support the reclamation of the Interior! It¡¯s been three months, and they know nothing!¡±  The Dean gestured at the students, who were now staring.


    ¡°Ah, I see you are most astute, and right to be critical,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°I hope this will allay your concerns about my students.¡± O¡¯tambwe motioned a short, plain girl with black hair and thin features to join them. ¡°Heather, say you were working for the army, and they came across a wood bridge that had been destroyed by the enemy, and your troop needed to pass that day? What would you do?¡± heather ducked her head , hiding her face behind her book.


    The Dean snorted, and was about to continue his tirade when she responded, ¡°I would flatten the main beams, and carve Memory and Growth to cause the two sides of the bridge to grow back together.¡± She said, craning her neck to look at O¡¯tambwe and the dean.


    ¡°A creative solution my dear, thank you,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, patting her on the head. She blushed a little and almost skipped away.


    ¡°What the hell did that prove?¡± Dean Richmond demanded. ¡°Wizards are weapons! Their utility lies in destroying the enemy!¡±


    ¡°If you want weapons instead of wizards, I could easily make some fire spells that any idiot could use.¡± O¡¯tambwe said, his hand sliding into the pocket of his robe.


    The light around O¡¯tambwe dimmed, and his voice grew deeper, until it began to shake the ground. It seemed as though space had drawn around him like purse strings that had been firmly pulled closed. The only thing anyone could do was look in awe, as already tall wizard seemed to grow to a frightening height.


    ¡°The wizards I teach will be problem solvers!¡± He said, his voice shaking the earth. ¡°If that happens to include enemy soldiers, they will solve that problem! Right now you are being a problem!¡±


    The dean fell backwards, scooting away from O¡¯tambwe, the red draining from his face, leaving him pale and sickly. The count¡¯s son was already nowhere to be seen. A moment later the dean scrambled back to his feet, cowed by O¡¯tambwe¡¯s display.


    ¡°We will discuss this in private, another time¡± he stammered, before turning and walking away at a pace almost too brisk to be considered walking.


    As his students continued to stare, O¡¯tambwe took his hand out of his pocket and placed a small charm carved from what appeared to be a fingerbone on the table beside him. The moment his skin broke contact with the charm, the sky lightened, and he seemed to shrink back to normal. O¡¯tambwe waited for the dean to no longer be visible, then motioned his class to approach. When they had gathered around, he spoke.


    ¡°This is a charm of my own invention, I like to call it The Cock¡¯s Strut,¡± he said with a grin. ¡°I use it for... well, exactly what you saw there. I suggest you make one of your own, children. When you leave my class, you will be required to join the military for a term of no less than 4 years. Wizards must have an air of mystery about them, and this little charm will make your life easier if you use it judiciously.¡±


    Jaque leaned forward and snatched up the bone, instantly growing menacing and powerful. ¡°Ladies!¡± he boomed, facing the rest of the class. ¡°Arrange yourselves for me in order of height!¡± The class along with O¡¯tambwe fell about the field laughing. The bone made its way through every student¡¯s hands. Each made a demand, proclamation or insult before passing it to the next.


    Ezyk looked to O¡¯tambwe, who was wiping tears from his eyes. ¡°Is this wizard training too?¡± he asked.


    O¡¯tambwe looked back at him, still chuckling a bit. ¡°Indeed it is,¡± he said, glancing at his students. ¡°A wizard must know a trick when he sees one. Imagine if they had run into something similar without having made a game of it.¡± he said. ¡°Take the mystery away from something, and it loses its power over you.¡±


    As the class wound down everyone had the opportunity to make an attempt at what O¡¯tambwe claimed to be the simplest and safest spell, a three stroke rune that summoned a small point of light.


    ¡°We¡¯ll take this opportunity to introduce you to the wizard¡¯s trance,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, orating from beneath the shade of the tree. ¡°When you write a spell, you will feel as if everything has become sluggish. After a while you will start to feel nauseous, until your eyes begin to spin, and your sense of balance is lost.¡±


    ¡°This is the sensation of reality stretching, trying to correct itself,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°The longer you can soldier through these uncomfortable sensations, the more powerful the effect you will evoke when you finish the spell and the accumulated energy settles into the runes that you have laid.¡±


    He made a quick, efficient three strokes, and the rune summoned a small point of light, hovering above the paper.


    It turned out a little different for each student, some brighter, some dimmer, or strangely colored. None of them turned out as steady as O¡¯tambwe¡¯s. Ezyk supposed that was to be expected. When Ezyk¡¯s turn had come, his heart wouldn¡¯t slow down, the thrill of working his first spell combined with the fear of self-immolation made his pulse quick and fingers shaky.


    As Ezyk drew the symbol, his arm quickly grew tired, then he realized his hand was moving slower than when he had started. He tried to make it move faster, but nothing happened, instead it seemed to crawl across the blank paper with the speed of a slug.


    Ezyk tried to look up, and was hit with a rush of vertigo as his eyes took several seconds to move. His whole body was mired in a swamp, but everyone else was perfectly still. Did I do something wrong!? He pulled away in panic.


    His concentration snapped and the feeling went away, leaving his surroundings once again moving. Ezyk¡¯s hand finishing the last stroke, and he felt something leave him, as if Ezyk had taken a large breath and blown it all out at once. In front of him, a flickering mote of light rose from the paper.


    O¡¯tambwe laid a firm hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Congratulations on your first spell, child.¡± O¡¯tambwe said, his wrinkled face beaming.


    After the class, he walked back to his dorm, mind buzzing with all the possibilities that had been set before him and making plans for his own spells. When he passed in front of an empty storage room, he heard a few quick footsteps before someone slammed into him from the side, knocking him into the open door. Instead of falling onto the cold floor, he felt hands catch him and pull him further into the room.

 Chapter 2: Rage

    The room was dark, the only light coming from the open doorway leading into the courtyard. In a moment his eyes adjusted, but not before a fist struck his jaw and addled his senses. There were five people in the room with Ezyk, and the two behind him hauled him to his feet. Two more stood in front of him, while the last closed the door. With the door closed, only the thin light of the evening sun slid through a small crack in the door to illuminate the room.


    The boy in front of Ezyk was Staffon Heager. Beside him was his younger brother, Fenris Heager. Fenris was named after the Legendary Wolf, but he would have been more appropriately named after the Legendary Opossum, had there been such a thing. He was small, with a hunched stance, furtive eyes, and a rather large nose, which dominated his face and made his quick glances from side to side almost comical.


    Steffon had a delicate bearing, although taller and straighter than his brother, with a protruding forehead and thin lips that barely covered his mess of teeth. Ezyk found himself thankful that the older brother wasn¡¯t the most robust of nobles, else that punch might have hurt him more than it did Steffon.


    ¡°This is a school for the nobility,¡± Steffon said, cradling the fist he had punched Ezyk with. ¡°You don¡¯t belong here. Your very presence diminishes the prestige of this academy. If the wizard wanted a pet, he would have been better off with a dog.¡±


    Steffon leaned in closely. ¡°if you think I¡¯m going to share this school with a monkey who spent the first six years of his life not wearing pants, you¡¯re dead wrong,¡± he said, punctuating his words with another punch to the face.


    Damn it Neya, Ezyk thought as he felt the fire burning inside him, but it was still in check.


    Ezyk considered the most appropriate response to deescalate the conflict as quickly as possible, trying to deal with the situation as O¡¯tambwe had taught him. Ezyk took a breath to begin a well-argued case against assaulting him, then he spat a mouthful of blood in Steffon¡¯s face. Maybe it wasn¡¯t as in check as he had thought.


    A lot of things happened at once. Steffon shoved away from Ezyk, wiping at his face like he had discovered a nest of spiders on his forehead as a shadow fell from the ceiling, hitting Fenris in the back of his hunched neck. The two boys holding Ezyk dropped him in surprise as the lookout by the door watched in shock.


    Steffon was still wiping his face when the shadow set upon him. It was a lithe figure that seemed to swim through the air towards him, accelerating unnaturally. All of a sudden he didn¡¯t have time to be afraid of common blood tainting him as small fists struck with bruising precision. Neya hit Steffon everywhere it hurt, first his nose, then his stomach, then she kicked him in the groin. Steffon¡¯s eyes bulged and he dropped to the ground, folding around his manhood.


    The room went silent, with Neya standing in the middle. Ezyk¡¯s mouth was filling with blood again, Fenris was unconscious, and Steffon couldn¡¯t breathe. Their three lackeys looked on in stunned silence.


    ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± Neya demanded, planting her foot on Steffon¡¯s ribcage like a hero in an epic painting. She faced Ezyk and the two lackeys next to him. The only sound that penetrated the silence was a thin wheeze from Steffon¡¯s lungs as they asserted the need to breathe as only slightly more important than his need to reproduce.


    ¡°You idiots aren¡¯t good for anything but ganging up on weaklings for sport!¡± Neya said, tossing her head back and crossing her arms.


    Ezyk bristled at being labeled a weakling, but Neya wasn¡¯t going to change her mind about him now.


    ¡°Where I come from, men fight with honor!¡± she said. ¡°If you worms represents the next generation of nobility, I¡¯ll be a chicken¡¯s aunt!¡±  She pointed at each of the boys next to Ezyk ¡°stand away from him!¡± The two lackeys shuffled a few steps away from Ezyk.


    A wave of relief swept through Ezyk.  He was pulling himself to his feet when he heard a meaty smack and the thud of a body hitting the floor. When he looked up, Neya lay sprawled out on the floor, head lolling to the side. The boy who had been beside the door stood behind her, with a chair in his hands. His face was ashen, as if he was as shocked as everyone else at what he had done.


    Steffon slowly uncurled himself to begin standing, and at his motion, the two boys beside Ezyk approached Neya. ¡°We caught ourselves quite the prize. Forget the pet, what better way to send the wizard a message than his daughter?¡± he leaned down and ran his hand up her leg. ¡°Bring her and my brother. We¡¯re going to salvage some fun out of this night yet.¡± Steffon said, a lecherous smile revealing his mouthful of crooked teeth.


    The hope that had been dashed was replaced with white hot anger, so strong that Ezyk coughed out a mouthful of blood as his insides writhed like a pit of snakes. Then it was gone. Ezyk was left with nothing but terrible purpose as the world lost it¡¯s color.


    ¡°Hey inbred fuckface,¡± Ezyk said, putting a finger to a drop of his own blood on the floor. Steffon and his lackeys glanced at him.


    Steffon¡¯s brows knitted together with anger. ¡°what do you..¡± he began, then the air grew heavy and Steffon¡¯s movements slowed as Ezyk began the first stroke of O¡¯tambwe¡¯s light spell.


    End them. Break them. Ezyk stared down Steffon for what felt like days as his anger wound about itself, fueling his concentration on the spell. Ezyk began to feel nauseous as his finger crawled along the floor so slowly it appeared to be standing still.


    Eventually, the nausea was too much for Ezyk to bear, and he lost his concentration with a sick groan. Ezyk lifted his finger from the last stroke of the light rune as he clapped a hand over his eyes. A bead of light shone through the meat of Ezyk¡¯s palm, dazzling his sight. Ezyk heard screaming, and then the light was gone.


    End them. Break them. Ezyk took his hand away, and found his sight swimming with small motes of light, but otherwise unharmed. Steffon had not come to his feet, so Ezyk walked up and kicked him in the face with all his weight behind it.


    Not stopping to look at the result, he found the two who had held him. One was doubled over, holding his eyes, the other had his eyelids squeezed shut and hands held in front of him. Ezyk took both of the boy¡¯s middle fingers and wrenched them with everything he had. Bone slid over bone before the fingers broke, causing the boy to collapse with a wail. Ezyk ran to the other and slammed a toe into his throat. Steffon¡¯s lackey went down, choking on blood.


    The one who had hit Neya had been furthest from the light, and had been partly shaded by the others. At the wailing of his friends, he turned to flee, fumbling toward the door. Ezyk leapt over Neya, grabbing the chair on the way by, and dispensed a bit of justice, hitting him in the back of the head with the heavy wooden furniture.


    End them. Break them. Ezyk turned back to the boy scrambling on the ground with broken fingers and delivered a blow across his temple, knocking him to the stone floor.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    It wasn¡¯t until O¡¯tambwe burst into the room, that Ezyk realized that he had not stopped hitting them with the chair. None of Steffon¡¯s crew were moving, the room was spattered with blood, and the chair was varnished with a gruesome lacquer.


    Ezyk looked at O¡¯tambwe, then back to the slaughter in the room in a daze. ¡°O¡¯tambwe, what-¡± Ezyk¡¯s question was cut off when the wizard threw a small white clay ball which shattered in the center of Ezyk¡¯s chest. Ezyk¡¯s sight went black, followed shortly by the sensation of his shoulder hitting the ground.


    Ezyk woke up in his own bed, wondering if the brawl in the storage room had been a dream. Ezyk raised his hand to touch his face, and winced in pain. His split lip and black eye, along with strained muscles across his entire body disputed that notion.


    ¡°Good evening child¡± O¡¯tambwe said from his seat beside Ezyk¡¯s bed. His fingers were laced under his chin as he watched his adoptive son.


    ¡°What happened? Is Neya ok?¡± Ezyk asked.


    ¡°Neya is fine, but the other students in the room with you¡­¡± O¡¯tambwe said, and Ezyk had a sudden flash of dread.


    ¡°They¡¯re dead, aren¡¯t they?¡± Ezyk asked.


    ¡°They should be,¡± O¡¯tambwe said with a sigh. ¡°It was a close thing. There¡¯s going to be a meeting with the dean about this incident.¡±


    Ezyk didn¡¯t see anything he could do. ¡°When?¡± He asked, feeling his stomach sinking helplessly.


    ¡°Right now.¡± O¡¯tambwe said, standing up.


    Ezyk rolled of the bed slowly, as it seemed every muscle in his body had been replaced with wet noodles. Aching wet noodles. He got to his feet in short order, gradually growing accustomed to the weakness.


    ¡°Lean on me on the way there,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°And try to appear as pathetic as possible.¡± There was no trace of humor in O¡¯tambwe¡¯s voice, but it still made Ezyk smile a little.


    They arrived at the dean¡¯s office, O¡¯tambwe¡¯s elbow hooked under Ezyk¡¯s shoulder. The first thing he saw through the door was the dean at his desk, but as he stepped through the door, the peripheries of his sight widened, and he was stunned to find Steffon and his crew there, completely unharmed.


    ¡°What did..¡± Ezyk stopped as he looked at O¡¯tambwe, who winked. Better not incriminate myself. Ezyk thought before closing his mouth and focusing on looking as badly beaten as possible.


    ¡°What I see here is an obvious case of bullying,¡± Dean Richmond said. ¡°What boggles my mind is your audacity to claim that this boy,¡± The dean¡¯s fingers jabbed toward where Ezyk rested on the couch. ¡° Assaulted the five of you in a dark storage room and beat you savagely.¡± The dean took off his cap, scratching his scalp through his thinning hair. ¡°Which is obviously untrue.¡±


    ¡°Dean Richmond, he-¡± Steffon said.


    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± The dean roared, slamming his fist on the table. An ink bottle almost overturned, and several pens jumped in place.


    ¡°You think who your father is gives you the right to run my school?¡± The dean said, pointing at Steffon as his face was dyed red with anger. ¡°I¡¯ve personally spoken to your father, he told me you are a little shit, and a caning at the end of every week might just be exactly what you need. Don¡¯t think he will intercede on your behalf.¡±


    Here, your ass is mine,¡± Dean Richmond said, his voice low. ¡°With your father¡¯s full support. Do you understand?¡±


    Steffon¡¯s jaw had been hanging since Dean Richmond interrupted him. He swallowed. ¡°Yes sir.¡± Steffon said in a small voice.


    ¡°Good, now GET OUT!¡± the dean pointed at the door. Steffon and his lackeys quickly filed through the door. Once they were gone, the dean sighed, locked the door, and pulled a chair out to sit in front of O¡¯tambwe and Ezyk.


    ¡°O¡¯tambwe, your little experiment has gone too far,¡± the dean said. ¡°That boy is too dangerous.¡± Dean Richmond took out a pipe from his pocket, and began filling it. ¡°We came within a hair¡¯s breadth of having the sons of no less than 5 noble supporters of the academy meet untimely deaths. Honestly I don¡¯t care a whit if those boys die, just not in my school.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel dangerous,¡± Ezyk said, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up.  Dean Richmond gave him a look that spoke volumes about whether he gave a damn about Ezyk¡¯s opinion.


    ¡°Your school is famous for producing great military men yes? I think you can see the benefit in keeping Ezyk on for one more term. He¡¯ll be a great asset to the country.¡± O¡¯tambwe said.


    Dean Richmond lit his pipe, drawing the first smoke into his mouth, tasting it. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke. ¡°He¡¯s going to lose control again, and there¡¯s no guarantee he wouldn¡¯t kill a student.¡±


    ¡°With respect dean, I didn¡¯t lose control,¡± Ezyk said. ¡°I knew exactly what I was doing.¡±


    The dean raised his eyebrows. ¡°So you attempted to beat five people to death with a chair. on purpose?¡± he asked.


    Ezyk met the dean¡¯s eyes. ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t lose control, I¡­ somehow knew exactly how to hurt them,¡± Ezyk said, casting his gaze down as he recalled the scene. ¡°It felt like nothing else mattered. I used a light spell to blind them, broke Sam¡¯s fingers, kicked John¡¯s throat, stomped on..¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± The dean said, waving dismissively. ¡°That sounds plenty like losing control to me. My decision stands. Ezyk, you are expelled. Be out of this school by tomorrow.¡± Dean Richmond reached into his desk and began pulling out papers to formalize his decision.


    Ezyk couldn¡¯t muster the strength to be outraged. He had, after all, tried to kill five people. Four, he corrected himself. Fenris had already been unconscious, and had been spared from being beaten with a chair. Ezyk stood, left the office and began walking to his room.


    The thing Ezyk found strange was the complete lack of remorse. He had hurt people by accident before, he knew he could feel sympathy and guilt, but it seemed as though the entire event had been painted an emotional grey.


    If anything, Ezyk was a little disappointed that they were still alive. Ezyk stopped walking in the center of the marble hallway. Was that my own thought? He asked himself. Unsettled, he made his way to his room and flopped down on his bed, calming his mind and turning it inward, as O¡¯tambwe had taught him.


    ¡°How goes it?¡± O¡¯tambwe asked from directly above him.


    Ezyk¡¯s eyes snapped open, and he wiped a bit of drool form his mouth. ¡°Meditating, contemplating the universe and all that.¡± Ezyk said with a smirk he didn¡¯t feel. Evening was coming on fast, and he had nowhere to go. He didn¡¯t even own any property to take with him. Unless Ezyk walked out the door naked, he could be accused of stealing from the academy.


    ¡°Indeed, it seemed peaceful,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°I am here to give you your graduation test.¡±


    Ezyk looked at O¡¯tambwe, his eyes narrowed. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I have haggled the dean down from an expulsion to a¡­ sort of involuntary early graduation,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, sitting on the chair in front of Ezyk¡¯s desk. ¡°Provided you pass your graduation test.¡±


    ¡°What is the test, and how could I pass it without any idea what I need to do?¡± Ezyk asked.


    ¡°You will ¡°pass¡± because it is not a test. Not like the ones you¡¯re used to,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°Wizards are manipulators of fate and the natural order. A very long time ago, a brilliant wizard made a device which showed him the moment of his death. This wizard gained great power from that experience, and used it to try to avoid his own death. He raised an army of such power that he believed himself untouchable. He defied fate, and in the end, caused his own destruction.¡±


    ¡°What is the test?¡± Ezyk asked. O¡¯tambwe reached into his robes and removed a length of gold chain, each link seemed to change like water as he looked at them, until his eyes began to hurt. The chain was about fifteen feet long, the links the size of a thumbnail. Then he noticed there was no end to it, the whole thing was one circle.


    ¡°I am going to show you the day you die. If you are strong enough, you will make your own fate. But I warn you, actions motivated by fear will only steer you closer.¡± Ezyk looked at the chain again for a moment, but had to look away as the shifting patterns inside it made his eyes water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to do this,¡± Ezyk said. ¡°I¡¯m not strong enough to face that.¡±


    ¡°That is exactly the appropriate feeling,¡± O¡¯tambwe said. ¡°Tomorrow you are going to leave this academy. You will then be assigned a job as a minor wizard in a company of the Empire¡¯s army. You are then going to face four years of constant war. Summon the courage to take this test, and you will be a true wizard, and your chances of living will be substantially improved.¡± O¡¯tambwe said.


    ¡°How does it help me become a wizard? That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± Ezyk said.


    ¡°It has been proven that experiencing your own death attunes your consciousness more closely with the Weave of Fate and makes magic flow easier,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, pooling the fine gold chain into his hands. ¡°Assuming it doesn¡¯t break your mind. Since it was created thousands of years ago, this has been one of the most closely guarded secrets of wizardry. You must do this, as I have.¡±


    Ezyk looked up into his father¡¯s eyes and saw the truth in them. ¡°Alright.¡± He said, swallowing his fear.


    O¡¯tambwe instructed Ezyk to lie in the center of the room as he laid the golden chain in an oval around Ezyk on the floor. O¡¯tambwe  sat crosslegged outside the chain. ¡°Close your eyes.¡± He said, his fingers descending to touch the chain. Ezyk closed his eyes.

 Chapter 3: Sacrifice

    Ezyk opened his eyes and saw a strange symbol carved into the ceiling, converging in a spiral directly above him. To his right and left, four golden sconces burned with green flame. I can¡¯t move. A spike of panic ran through him. Ezyk looked and saw his wrists and ankles secured to the floor by manacles embedded in the stone floor.


    His palms throbbed with pain, and Ezyk saw the white of bone from his unresponsive hands. On the walls around him was a pattern, similar to the one on the ceiling, going onto the floor and converging about the center of his chest. He tested the restraints, but he couldn¡¯t even make them shift. Ezyk heard footsteps approaching in the distance.


    The first to duck their head into the dimly lit stone room was and old man, wrinkled and bald, thin as a twig, yet with absolutely no sign of frailty. He moved with an easy grace, standing straight, and walking smoothly. Following him, Ezyk¡¯s breath caught as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stepped in.


    It was her shoes that he had heard first. She wore fantastical silk clothes that made him realize that Steffon was just a threadbare country noble. They covered every inch of her but her face, and flowed around her feet as if they were alive. The curve of her body showed through as she moved, drawing his attention. His eyes flitted back to her face, and Ezyk saw that she watched him with a smile. The woman winked, and a flash of pain went through his head.


    The pain allowed him to stop looking at her, in time to notice the third had not entered. No, the man was already at his sconce, having silently moved through the darkness, drawing none of Ezyk¡¯s attention until he had come to stand at his position.


    Strangely, the third man did not seem to belong, he looked like he ran an inn at night and babysat his grandkids during the day. He was a modest height, his face so unremarkable, it was remarkable. But Ezyk hadn¡¯t seen him enter, causing a small shiver ran through Ezyk¡¯s spine.


    A fourth entered the room, stooping his head deeply to enter. The man was seven feet tall, his features seemed carved from rough stone. He wore armor laced with enchantments, fit for a general of the ancient world. At his waist hung a sword nearly five feet long, lending to his presence that dominated the room. It felt as if the floor itself had begun to slope in his direction. Ezyk could feel his footsteps in his chest as the giant came to stand at the last sconce.


    The four arranged themselves in front of the sconces and held their hands up, beginning to chant. Meanwhile, Ezyk¡¯s struggles grew more and more frantic. He thrashed and pulled at the restraints to no avail, only bloodying his wrists in the process.


    The four paid him no attention, and continued chanting. As one, they took up daggers, and cut their palms, holding them above the sconce. As he watched, their blood pooled out from beneath the sconces. They must be hollow. He thought idly, his mind unable to fully come to grips with what was happening to him.


    The blood entered the pattern on the floor beneath him, and began to swiftly run along it. Ezyk knew that when the pattern was filled, the spell would be complete, and whatever happened wouldn¡¯t be something he wanted to be here for. He resumed thrashing, the pain in his wrists reaching a crescendo.


    Ezyk¡¯s wrists began to form drops of blood oozing through his broken skin, giving him an idea. If I add my blood, can I render this spell harmless? One way to find out. Ezyk summoned his grey trance, and calm flowed through him. He began to saw his wrists against the manacles, ignoring the pain. Eventually, a single drop of blood dripped from his wrist into the spell beneath him, just as the pattern was completed.


    Ezyk¡¯s consciousness split. He felt as if he were somehow present and not present. Below him was his body, still sawing away at his own wrist, and above him was what looked like a small mote of light, similar to the first spell he had ever done. It was filled with such power and familiarity, he knew it was his soul.


    He watched the man with the plain face walk towards him, dagger in hand. He watched as he knelt with his hand on Ezyk¡¯s shoulder, before he planted the dagger in Ezyk¡¯s heart. The split ended, and Ezyk looked down at the hilt protruding from his chest. Ezyk was unable to speak, unable to breathe. The world swam, and then went white as Ezyk¡¯s tongue fumbled on the foreign object in his mouth.


    Ezyk sat up, screaming. The pain in his chest hadn¡¯t gone away completely yet, and he clenched his hand over his heart.


    ¡°Easy boy, easy,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, putting his hand on Ezyk¡¯s back. ¡°Take deep breaths.¡± He handed Ezyk a mug filled with a syrupy beverage that smelled faintly of cinnamon. Ezyk took three deep, shuddering breaths before he could drink.


    ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t go in your sleep, then?¡± Otambwe asked. Ezyk looked at him, then back to his drink, shaking his head.


    ¡°No, I was murdered.¡± Ezyk said.


    ¡°Murdered? Killed in battle?¡± O¡¯tambwe asked.


    ¡°No, I was strapped down in the center of a stone room with some kind of magic spell on the ceiling and floor,¡± Ezyk said. ¡°Four people came in and filled the spell with their blood, and then one of them..¡± Ezyk glanced at O¡¯tambwe and trailed off seeing the expression on his face. He¡¯d never seen O¡¯tambwe look so grim.


    O¡¯tambwe took his hand away from Ezyk and stood. ¡°Four people? Can you describe them?¡± he asked. Ezyk went about describing them. The most detail he could remember was about the woman and the giant man.


    He remembered an old man, and one more¡­ whose face seemed to blur, becoming first the man who ran the cafeteria, then one of Ezyk¡¯s more boring teachers. He said as much to O¡¯tambwe, who sat down beside Ezyk.


    ¡°Listen to me, Ezyk,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, his voice grave. You mustn¡¯t try to avoid that place. Fear cannot change fate. You must try to overcome that place rather than run from it. That is the only advice I can give you.¡±


    O¡¯tambwe began to say something more, then stopped. Finally he spoke again, a pained expression on his face. ¡°I leave it to you to pack for your departure tomorrow. This letter recommends you as a wizard graduate from this school. Good luck.¡± O¡¯tambwe pulled a gold-trimmed letter from his robe, placed it on Ezyk¡¯s desk.


    ¡°This backpack has a change of clothes and enough money to get you to your station,¡± O¡¯tambwe said, pointing at a backpack he¡¯d deposited in the corner of the room. ¡°Naturally it has your spellbook in the back. Make sure you record your spells carefully, there¡¯s a few dozen blank pages in the back and¡­ good luck.¡± O¡¯tambwe turned and left the room, leaving Ezyk alone.


    Ezyk swung his feet out of bed, began standing. Pain shot through his heart and he fell back to the bed, the air forced from his lungs. As soon as the pain came it was gone, one final reminder of his vision. Ezyk tentatively took a few breaths, but the stabbing pain didn¡¯t return. Tentatively, Ezyk tried to stand, and this time made it to his feet.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    A nagging nervousness plagued him as he moved about his room, squaring away his living space for the exodus from the academy. He would be alone now. O¡¯tambwe would stay in the here, teaching magic, and Ezyk would be adrift.


    Somehow he would wind up stabbed in the heart. Ezyk had known O¡¯tambwe for over ten years, and he¡¯d only rarely been wrong, but Ezyk couldn¡¯t imagine a way to overcome that.


    After the room had been stripped of all signs of his occupancy, Ezyk laid down on the bed above the sheets so he wouldn¡¯t have to make the bed again. He tried to sleep, but couldn¡¯t bring himself to feel tired. Fear swirled around inside him as he tried to picture his future.


    O¡¯tambwe had told him that most of our fears about the future are our own insecurities manifesting themselves, not likely events. But what he had seen¡­ that was going to haunt him.


    Ezyk woke to the sound of running boots. His eyes shot open just before a pounding on his door. ¡°Ezyk! Wake up!¡± Jaque said, continuing to bang on the door. Ezyk leapt into his pants and opened the door, blinking gummy eyes.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ezyk asked, not terribly happy to be woken up after hardly getting any sleep the night before.


    ¡°You have to come right now, something¡¯s wrong,¡± Jaque said breathlessly. ¡°The dean wants you in his office, right now.¡±


    Ezyk blinked at him. ¡°You said ¡®right now¡¯ twice.¡± He said.


    ¡°That means get your ass over there now!¡± Jaque said before running off towards whatever class he had been playing around in before he got stuck with messenger duty.


    Ezyk looked up at the sky, his brows furrowing. The stars shone brightly down upon him, with no sign of dawn to the east. It sank in that he had places to be, so Ezyk threw his uniform on, and sprinted to the Dean¡¯s office. No one else was awake yet, so what was Jaque doing up? When he arrived at the Deans office, Ezyk slowed to a jog, reaching the door just as his breath was beginning to come back. At Ezyk¡¯s knock, the door opened.


    The man who opened the door was of average height and average build, totally unremarkable. He was also the man who had plunged a dagger into his heart in his vision. An echo of the pain caused Ezyk to have a short coughing fit, forcing him to stoop down and clutch his chest.


    ¡°Are you alright young man?¡± the murderer asked. Ezyk wanted to run, but he knew that would only make the man spring upon him, like a predator in the wild. ¡°I¡¯m alright. I just ran all the way here.¡± Ezyk said as soon as the pain had diminished. He took a deep breath. ¡°The dean wanted me?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes, come in.¡± the murderer stepped aside, to allow Ezyk to enter the room. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, to take the three steps into that room, instead of running, giving the man a reason to chase him. Ezyk imagined this was what it felt like to walk to your own execution.


    Inside the Dean¡¯s office were the dean himself, and most of his senior staff. Neya was crying in a chair, attended to by one of the more matronly teachers who had very little in common with her. Dean Richmond stepped forward and took Ezyk¡¯s hand. ¡°Ezyk, your father is dead. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Nothing Ezyk had imagined could have come close to the dread he felt now. Reality was much worse than his fears. ¡°What happened?¡± Ezyk asked, feeling numb to the core.


    ¡°His heart gave out while he slept.¡± The murderer offered. Ezyk had been careful not to put his back to the man, but was startled to discover the plain faced man had shifted to an entirely different place than Ezyk had thought he was.


    ¡°If it gave out while he slept, why do you¡­¡± Ezyk¡¯s voice trailed off as he lost the will to speak.


    ¡°Why do we already know?¡± Dean Richmond asked. Ezyk nodded mutely, staring at the wood grain in the dean¡¯s overpriced desk.


    ¡°Lord Tanwood here,¡± Dean Richmond said, nodding to the plain-faced man. ¡°Came in this evening with another option for you other than expulsion. I went to O¡¯tambwe¡¯s room to discuss it and well¡­¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°If you need to sit, you¡¯re welcome to.¡± Dean Richmond said, motioning to the seats where Neya was venting her grief.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Ezyk mumbled. He sat down. His mind began repeating the last few moments, like a dog chasing its tail. The murderer had something to do with it. O¡¯tambwe was the healthiest 60 year old man Ezyk had ever seen, damn near indestructible.


    Why was the plain faced man here? Was he after Ezyk already, or was he after O¡¯tambwe and Ezyk was an afterthought? Ezyk shook his head. You don¡¯t strap people to the center of magic spells, bleed yourself in some arcane ritual and stab them in the chest as an afterthought. Still, what had Ezyk done to warrant this?


    After a few minutes discussing amongst themselves, the dean and the man who would stab Ezyk in the chest reached a decision, Dean Richmond approached Ezyk.


    ¡°Lord Tanwood here,¡± Richmond said, motioning to the murderer, ¡°Is a colleague of O¡¯tambwe¡¯s, and would like to return the many favors O¡¯tambwe has done for him. He has offered to provide an apprenticeship for both you and Neya.


    Alarms trumpeted through Ezyk¡¯s mind. Entering the dean¡¯s office with Tanwood had been brave, but going with Tanwood to such an obvious slaughter was stupid. Tell them what they want to hear, Ezyk¡¯s mind whispered to him. Ezyk forced a smile. ¡°O¡¯tambwe would want to see us well cared for, what more could I ask for? I¡¯m already packed to go. Before we leave, though, could I see O¡¯tambwe once?¡± Tanwood nodded to the dean, who gave Ezyk permission.


    Ezyk walked down the hall, his palms sweating against his clenched fingers as the dean and Tanwood followed close behind him. The entire amrch to O¡¯tambwe¡¯s room, Ezyk¡¯s mind spun in circles between expecting O¡¯tambwe to be waiting behind the door, and waiting for Tanwood to simply knife Ezyk in the back.


    The dean stepped forward when they arrived and use his master key to unlock O¡¯tambwe¡¯s room, while Ezyk watched the plain man standing impassively in the hall, every muscle tight.


    O¡¯tambwe¡¯s body was still in his bed. The room was exactly as Ezyk remembered it from his occasional visits. Wizarding paraphernalia lined the walls. Chisels, wires, compasses, crucibles and other devices littered the desks O¡¯tambwe kept for his various projects. Some went so far as to spill out onto the floor.


    O¡¯tambwe lay on his bed with his eyes closed, as though he were merely asleep. His chest didn¡¯t move though, and his skin was a pallid pale color for the black skinned old man. Ezyk had held a small hope until now, but even that left him.


    The dean stepped in behind Ezyk, and placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s gone to rejoin the Weave. At least that¡¯s what his people believed.¡± He said. That was small comfort to Ezyk.


    Ezyk felt tears brimming up, prayed for forgiveness for a moment, and then he did what he had to do. Ezyk began to bawl, outright sobbing. He threw himself on O¡¯tambwe and began weeping into his robes, which the old man never wore to bed. At this point, Ezyk was absolutely sure that O¡¯tambwe had been murdered.


    The Dean uncomfortably stepped outside, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, Ezyk took out a handkerchief, covered his hand, and began searching O¡¯tambwe¡¯s pockets, wailing all the while for the benefit of those standing outside the door.


    As quickly as he could, Ezyk stripped O¡¯tambwe of anything he knew how to operate. After a brief check of O¡¯tambwe¡¯s cabinets, he looked at the tools at his disposal. Three clay balls dipped in white ink, one dipped in red. The Cock¡¯s Strut, the gold necklace O¡¯tambwe used to heal, and a smooth lodestone ring O¡¯tambwe had used to fetch things for him. There were many more things on O¡¯tambwe¡¯s person, but without knowing what did what, even touching them them was a fool¡¯s notion, and most likely why no one had dared to rummage through his pockets yet.


    The lodestone ring, its interior etched with intricate runes, reminded Ezyk of the conversation he had had with his mentor just yesterday, and for an instant, grief threatened to paralyze him. Tanwood is going to kill me. I do not have time.


    Ezyk swallowed the heartache and pocketed the white clay balls on his right, the red one on his left, deliberately making the killing spell harder to get to. He didn¡¯t want to kill anyone in the heat of the moment. The necklace went into his breast pocket, and he slipped the fetching ring on his toe.  The Cock¡¯s Strut went in his left pocket above the killing spell.


    Ezyk looked at O¡¯tambwe one more time, winding down his sobs. He let his tears flow, knowing that that¡¯s what the dean and Tanwood would expect. Ezyk turned and faced the door, knowing that there were many things here that could have aided him greatly, were he not so ignorant. It felt as though all the things he left behind represented all the time he should have had with O¡¯tambwe. Time he would now have to turn his back on and close the door. Ezyk breathed deeply, and opened the door, stepping outside into the hallway with the murderer.

 Chapter 4: Exile

    Dean Richmond was politely waiting on the other side of the hall, discreetly facing away. Tanwood, on the other hand, watched him intently. ¡°I¡¯ve said my goodbyes. What now?¡± Ezyk asked.


    ¡°Lord Tanwood will wait for you in front of the academy gates,¡± Dean Richmond said. ¡°Neya is in her room, packing. I don¡¯t think I have to say this, but you should consider yourself lucky. The only other option you had amounted to getting killed by the Xenshai.¡±


    Ezyk fixed the dean with a flat stare. ¡°I¡¯ve considered myself lucky from the day my father saved me from a burning village,¡± he said.


    Ezyk excused himself, and started toward the gate. As soon as he was out of sight, he began sprinting for the dean¡¯s office. There was a teleportation circle in the back of his office, and there would be no way for Tanwood to track Ezyk if he used that to make his escape. In seconds, Ezyk made it to the office, wrenching the door open only to come to a stumbling halt.


    In the center of the room, sitting on the Dean¡¯s desk was Tanwood, kicking his heels against the hardwood. ¡°So,¡± he said. ¡°The question is, are you who I think you are?¡± Tanwood was poised to jump off the desk.


    ¡°Who do you think I am?¡± Ezyk asked, shifting his feet backward.


    ¡°There are only two Gifts left,¡± Tanwood said, smiling. ¡°I¡¯ve been searching for a very long time for someone who¡­ beats people to death with chairs.¡± Tanwood gave wry grin as he hopped off the desk, moving toward Ezyk like a stalking cat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you heard, but that was exaggerated,¡± Ezyk said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t insult me with-¡° Tanwood began to say.


    Ezyk surreptitiously pointed the toe with the fetching ring on it toward the dean¡¯s desk and summoned it toward him with all his focus. The desk gave an ear splitting screech as it dragged across the floor. Tanwood glanced back, startled, as the desk gave him a light shove, before once more becoming inert.


    Ezyk snaked his right hand into his pocket, throwing a spell at Tanwood. Tanwood looked back, off balance as the white clay ball burst on his stomach, revealing an iron rune. When the rune hit Tanwood, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed, convulsing on the floor.


    Ezyk pulled out his handkerchief and delicately wrapped it around the iron charm, being extra careful not to touch O¡¯tambwe¡¯s powerful incapacitation spell. He put it back in his pocket, nestled next to the other two, still safely covered in clay. He let out a sigh, and headed towards the back of the dean¡¯s office. There was the Teleportation Circle, meant for sending and receiving important packages, guests, and missives from the Empire.


    The circle was a gigantic array of nested steel circles. Each circle was composed of complex runes, with a line marked at the bottom that showed where the runes would need to be aligned. The circles could each spin independently, and each alignment would send someone to a completely different place than any other. All Ezyk needed to do was spin the outer ring, then jump on. No one would have any way of knowing where he went. Well, Ezyk wouldn¡¯t either, but that was a price Ezyk was willing to pay as long as he wasn¡¯t dropped in the middle of the ocean.


    He bent to spin the wheel when Pain burst from his right ear, causing his body lock up, and slowly sink to its knees.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re the only one with a trick or two?¡± Tanwood asked, wielding a blackjack behind him. Ezyk rolled to one elbow, unable to do more than turn his body in its slow decent to the ground. The fingers of Ezyk¡¯s right hand tremblingly sought out his breast pocket, and O¡¯tambwe¡¯s healing charm within.


    Tanwood kicked Ezyk¡¯s hand away, and placed his knee over Ezyk¡¯s wrist. His right hand holding down Ezyk¡¯s left, Tanwood pulled a small gem out of his sleeve. The gem was a smooth white quartz crystal that seemed to have been grown around an intricate rune. As Tanwood held it up to Ezyk, it began glowing, slowly at first, then emitting light that hurt to look at.


    ¡°Found you.¡± Tanwood whispered.


    Through the glare, Ezyk saw a shadow move outside the door, prompting Ezyk to take one more chance. ¡°Did you kill O¡¯tambwe?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh, the wizard,¡± Tanwood said without looking away from the stone. ¡°Yeah, he was unreasonable in regards to you.¡±


    Neya swept through the door. Metal flashed, and a sword lanced through Tanwood¡¯s armpit, skewering his heart and lungs. Tanwood¡¯s eyes widened, and he slumped over like a marionette with its strings cut. Ezyk climbed out from underneath the body, His head still felt foggy, ear burning, and vision swimming.


    ¡°Caught drunk under an older man,¡± Neya said, with a bitter smile on her face. ¡°Another Friday night for you, Ezyk? Seems like you¡¯re always getting caught with your pants down, in need of rescuing.¡±


    Ezyk groaned, bringing himself to his knees. ¡°I didn¡¯t get knocked out by a lookout I forgot existed.¡± He said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll call that one a draw then,¡± Neya said.¡±Still puts me up by three.¡± Neya crossed her arms, glancing at Tanwood¡¯s corpse.


    Neya had saved him more times he could count, and he was sure the number was higher than three, but he wasn¡¯t the official scorekeeper. She was. Neya teased him, but he could see the pain in her eyes.


    ¡°Why did he kill papa?¡± Neya asked, her voice almost breaking.


    ¡°I think it was my fault,¡± Ezyk said, holding his head. ¡°He said he was looking for me.¡± Ezyk felt like saying it was making it real. The whirlwind of activity tonight had kept him numb, but it was starting to hit him.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Neya¡¯s gaze locked on Ezyk. ¡°Did you make him kill my father?¡± she asked. ¡°No, he did it himself. You did not make that man¡¯s decisions for him.¡±


    Ezyk felt a weight lift from him. He still felt responsible, but knowing that Neya wouldn¡¯t hate him made all the difference between hopelessness and determination. Ezyk reached into his breast pocket, and touched the golden charm. Immediately his head cleared, and ear stopped ringing. Pain washed away in moments, and when he took his had away, his body felt fresh and energized.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving the academy tonight,¡± Ezyk said. ¡°O¡¯tambwe gave me a vision last night, and I saw more people like him coming for me.¡± He said.


    ¡°Where you gonna go?¡± she asked, her head cocked.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to spin that teleportation circle and jump on,¡± Ezyk said. ¡°No one will know where I¡¯ve gone. I won¡¯t even know.¡± Neya raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°That sounds incredibly stupid,¡± she said. ¡°But you¡¯re right. No one will be able to track you.¡±


    ¡°What about you? What will you do now?¡± Ezyk asked.


    Neya considered for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m going to visit the capital.¡± She said, turning to leave.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Ezyk said, stopping Neya. ¡°This belongs to you!¡± Ezyk fumbled out the gold chain attached to the healing charm, holding it out to his sister.


    Neya glanced back and gave him a grin over her shoulder, ¡°You¡¯ll need it more than me.¡± She said before leaving Ezyk alone in the dean¡¯s office. Ezyk sighed and walked over to the teleportation circle, pocketing the charm and contemplating where he might find himself in the next few moments.


    ¡°That was touching.¡± Ezyk whirled around and saw Tanwood leaning against the wall. The sword had gone through him just under his armpit. His lungs and heart should be stopped. Ezyk thought to himself. The wound was beyond mortal, incapacitating two vital organs.


    Grimacing, Tanwood gingerly reached over and began to tug on the handle of the sword. No blood was on either side of the blade, no blood anywhere. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll sit and¡­ wait¡­ while I¡­ take this thing¡­ out¡­¡± he said, grimacing with pain.


    Ezyk turned back to the circle, grabbed the outer ring, and spun with everything he had. The heavy steel inlaid with gold clicked quietly as it began spinning on its well-oiled bearings


    ¡°I guess not.¡± Tanwood grunted, sliding the blade a bit further out. The tip of the blade no longer exited his other side. Ezyk glanced back one more time and witnessed Tanwood pull the last foot of the blade from his side as casually as a sheath, then jumped onto the circle.


    Ezyk¡¯s hands flung out wide as his feet were greeted by air.


    An instant later, Ezyk was submerged in freezing water that stole his breath away. Ezyk clamped his mouth closed before he could inhale any of the silty water. Ezyk spun aimlessly under the cloudy water, blind and incapable of telling up from down.


    Ezyk¡¯s fingertips brushed against a rock, and a second later, he pushed off the riverbank, swimming in the opposite direction with everything he had. Agonizing seconds crawled by as he struggled to breach the surface.


    Finally, Ezyk¡¯s head broke the surface, and he gasped in a lungful of air. For a moment, he feared he would see endless ocean in either direction, but to his relief, there was a bank was roughly twenty feet away. In the opposite direction was a bank sixty yards or more away. The current wasn¡¯t particularly swift, but it was bone-chillingly cold. Fine silt clouded the water that Ezyk treaded, irritating his eyes and turning the river opaque.


    Ezyk began swimming to the closer shore. His breathing became labored as he came near. Ezyk could swim, but in his academy uniform it took most of his effort to keep his head above water. His fingers scratched against the riverbed under the muddy water as he came closer to the shore. Grabbing handholds and pulling himself up, Ezyk managed to get most of his body out of the river when his right leg snagged something.


    Ezyk gave his leg a few experimental tugs and twists, hoping to get it unstuck quickly. He was no longer in danger of drowning, but if he stayed in the river long enough he¡¯d die of cold.


    Pain flared from Ezyk¡¯s calf as it began thrashing of its own accord, pulling him back into the river. Adrenaline surged, and Ezyk¡¯s other three limbs thrashed and scrambled, throwing up a spray of grey-brown water and pulling him further up onto the bank.


    Ezyk only barely managed to pull harder than the thing attached to his leg, reaching a tree growing near the bank. Ezyk hooked his elbow around the tree trunk and finally looked down at what had him, and wished he hadn¡¯t. A purple, veiny tentacle with a mouth was firmly attached to his calf.


    The thing was a narlock, and specialized in preying on large animals trying to cross rivers. His calf was shredded and bleeding where the teeth had slid through the meat during the tug-of-war. A rhythmic pull began stretching his body, filling him with pain.


    The tentacle pulled at his leg with a merciless rhythm. Pull. Tighten. Rest. Pull. tighten¡­ the veins travelling the length of the purple tentacle pulsed in time with the tugs.


    Ezyk¡¯s knife was on his belt. He was sure he could cut the offending limb, but he couldn¡¯t reach it without letting go of the tree. The world slowed as he drew the knife. He had a moment to consider that the feeling was very similar to what writing a spell felt like, before he let go of the tree and lunged at the narlock¡¯s tentacle, snarling.


    He was dragged back toward the opaque water now that he¡¯d lost his anchor, and it wasn¡¯t long until the blood from his calf created a red-brown eddy that disappeared into the river. He began hacking the norlock¡¯s tentacle free even as more burst out of the water, aiming to immobilize his limbs.


    He caught the first tentacle aiming for his arm on the point of his knife, and dragged it to pin another against the ground. It wasn¡¯t until Ezyk had nearly severed a third tentacle with his teeth before at last they retreated below the surface.


    The struggle may have been brief, but it felt like it had taken minutes. With his strange sense of time, it could have been seconds.


    Ezyk dragged himself away from the bank, as far from the river as he could manage. Lightheaded, he searched his pocket for Otambwe¡¯s healing charm, but he came up with nothing. Must have lost it in the river. Neya¡¯s gonna be mad, he thought to himself.


    Ezyk began looking for a place to lie down and sleep. The boulder butting against a moss-covered tree felt warm under his hands. Ezyk lay down on top of it, as comfortable as he had been in his cozy bed back at the academy¡­


    Through a comfortable haze, Ezyk suddenly realized that he was hypothermic and bleeding, simply lying here would kill him. Ezyk tried to push himself up, his arm was numb, but he could control it. However he tried though, he couldn¡¯t quite muster the strength to push himself off the rock.


    ¡°Damn it to every hell in sequence.¡± He said. It was one of O¡¯tambwe¡¯s favorite curses. Ezyk mustered all his strength and pulled a bit of charcoal from his waistband.


    The rune for fire¡­ Ezyk couldn¡¯t remember it. The rune was similar to the one for Digestion, and he didn¡¯t want the rock to eat him. Heat. Ezyk remembered the rune for heat was a triangle made from double lines radiating from a circle. Simple enough.


    Ezyk forced his numb arm up with a grunt. As he began the circle, he felt the wizard¡¯s trance begin, slowing time and draining even more of his precious energy. Hopefully I¡¯m not killing myself. He thought as the trance gave him plenty of time to consider the consequences of failure.


    Ezyke finished the last stroke, breaking his concentration, and the rock began to heat up. As heat returned to his body, Ezyk began shivering, suddenly aware of how cold he actually was. The rock felt like fire against his skin, but Ezyk held on stubbornly.


    The shivering was the last straw, and Ezyk lost consciousness curled around a warm rock a dozen paces away from a river filled with man-eating monsters. The last thing that crossed Ezyk¡¯s mind was wondering where the hell he had landed.