First Apprentice

Chapter 8

The illusion hiding my training ground shimmered like a mirage as magic buffeted it from all sides: my own, Joel's and the Vinetta Gate's. It flickered. The idyllic river valley transformed into a barren landscape of ropy lava, ash, and obsidian. No greenery or snow. Just a five-acre scar wrought by my magic. Another shimmer as the ward stones Uncle Manfred buried around the perimeter sucked in the gate's ambient magic and the greenery reappeared.

These were Marstow illusions wards, invented during the first war to hide their settlements from Endellion and now tasked to hide a Dracon's illicit training. It always amazed me how he replaced boulders with logs and trees. If you weren't a Marstow or keyed into the wards, you couldn't see past them. Even keyed, I couldn't see through them until I entered the training ground, which meant I couldn't see the gate Joel summoned or overhear any conversations.

However, I sensed someone moving through the gate. The air thickened. The earth rumbled underneath my feet and groaned. Maybe other worlds handled summons differently, but some unidentified mineral on Vinetta neutralized ambient magic. There was still a little available. That's why some of Pell's compulsion seals worked, but not nearly enough for Border Guard or clan wards and weapons. Uncle Manfred's worked because he wrote the seals in his own blood and fed them his magic weekly.

A weight lifted off my shoulders as the gate departed.

Three minutes, Joel said before he left me outside the ward. I glanced down at my watch pendant. An odd number. Why three instead of five or ten? Why not simply come get me when they were ready? A thought crossed my mind.

How much did Terry know? The Seven and those attached to them all wore communication amulets. Simply touch the correct spot for instant, secure telepathic communication. I saw Grandfather's once. He hung it on a hook behind his bed. It disappeared after he caught me examining it. I think he was afraid I'd lose a finger trying to take it apart. Yet, Joel implied he told Terry nothing.

Why spring this on him? Was there a reason Terry was the only person in the Border Guard's history with an apprentice seat that sat empty for more than six months?

Another glance at my watch. Time. I breathed deeply and squared my shoulders. I could do this. I had to do this. For my family and myself. I clenched my sword belt in my fist, steeled myself, and stepped inside.

The illusion shattered. Two men stood halfway across the field. Joel and a slightly shorter man with an aura shockingly similar to mine. There were only two differences. His base color was the same navy blue as Joel's and his red flames resembled dried blood. Not just violence. Hate.

The reds soared higher, drowning out the nearby blues and purples. Blood red sparks appeared just like I had when I lost my temper.

I drew nearer, noting the breadth of Terry's shoulders, squared feet, and the long sword sheathed at his hip. No dagger, which meant he preferred his claws.

My sword belt swung in my hand. The unsheathed sword clattered against the metal ring and the small parrying dagger banged against my side. I glanced down at the bracelet clasped innocently around my wrist. Uncle Manfred hid my stiletto daggers in a convenient hollow tree. Too convenient. It was the same tree he left poison manuals in when Endellion wouldn't let me study them. I retrieved them, cleaned the poison off, and stashed them away in my bracelet. A nasty surprise for when Terry disarmed me.

He would.

As Endellion always said, I was a thousand years too young to win a fair fight.

Terry folded his arms across his chest and eyed me for a long moment. When my skin started to crawl, he snorted. "Too good to carry his own sword, I see. Leave the weapons over there," he waved his hand towards a nearby boulder. "Then go tell the brat to get over here and stop wasting my time. If I were you, girl, I'd leave after that. No matter what the brat's told you, this isn't a public exam. If you stay here, you'll just get hurt."

I opened my mouth to retort. Terry glided forward and grabbed the sword belt as if he planned to take it from me. I snarled in the back of my throat. Mine!

"Look," he said softly, "you seem like a nice girl. Go home and find someone who can actually appreciate your loyalty. Caed changes women like most men change their socks. You're a fool if you think he'll choose you over the others."

I blinked. "Who?"

Blood red flames overtook the others. Violence or anger. Was he upset with me because I hadn't followed his orders yet or with this mysterious Caed?

"You're good for a tumble," Terry said. "Nothing more. Leave before you get yourself killed."

Lips pursed, I forced myself to breathe, wrapping my magic around me in a tight spiral before I lashed out at this idiot. "So glad to know what you think of me," I said between clenched teeth before turning to Joel. "I apologize for wasting your time. This is obviously a mistake. I will not study under a man who called me a whore."

"You're the candidate?" Joy. Try sounding a little less incredulous next time.

"I was."

"You still are," Joel said firmly. "You accepted my nomination, Alannah."

"Then withdraw the nomination," Terry ordered.

"She can walk through our wards," Joel said.

Shock rolled through Terry's aura followed by fear. Then he settled into anger, hate. I wondered if he was controlling the colors or if this was his default emotional state. "What?"

"All of them, according to Manfred. They even tested her with my war wards." I scowled. Another family member telling tales. "It's either us or her clan."

"Our alliance with the Shedu Clan stretches back to the founding and has never been stronger. As long as they agree to share her advances, I fail to see the issue."

Shedu? The wards, I realized a second later. Terry was a Dracon. The illusion skipped over Joel because they specifically excluded Marstow. Vinetta was held by the Marstow before they merged with the Shedu. Thus, Terry saw what he expected to see on Vinetta – a lost Marstow, not a Dracon.

"The Seven have chosen," Joel said. His tone uncompromising as he pressed his magic against Terry's, demanding Terry obey him. Terry's magic lashed out. A quick battle, ending in a stalemate.

"Then un-choose." Terry pointed at me. "Her magic's nothing special. We have dozens just like her. If you insist I take an apprentice, then saddle me with one of them. Preferably one with a good sword arm. Apprentices die. You know this as well as I do. If she's half as gifted as you claim," I heard the doubt in his voice, "she'll serve us better as a craftsman or scholar, not a sealer and certainly not an apprentice."

"After Asha died," Joel said in a low voice, "I gave you time, Terry. I allowed you far more than I should have. Five centuries in fact."

"I tested – "

"You deliberately failed dozens of good candidates. Half the Seven can't pass your exam and you know it! As you have not chosen an apprentice, I have done so in your stead. You will test my candidate to the best of your abilities or you will face me in the Well!"

"Fine. Don't complain to me when the girl dies. Forms," Terry barked out and settled into a stance.

"Never back down," Joel whispered as he brushed past me. "No matter what he does or says, stand your ground especially when you're bleeding." Joel took my sword belt from my nerveless fingers and beckoned for Terry to disarm. Terry grumbled as he unbuckled his baldric and passed over his longsword then he dropped back into a stance.

"Form twenty-five," Joel barked. "Begin."