Chapter 1 and 2
Chapter 1
Painful Goodbyes
SMACK! I reel back with my eyes squeezed shut and I ball my hands into fists at my sides. I brace in anticipation for a second blow, but it doesn't come. All I hear is a breath of frustration, then footsteps retreating from the room. Once I hear the door snap shut and know I am truly alone, I grab my pack and leave my house.
I track my way through the narrow, winding streets of the residential district on my way to the main road.
The city is segmented into four districts. There is the residential district in the north east, comprising the living quarters for the bulk of the population.
The south east is the agricultural sector as well as the ports. Goods are harvested and gathered there before going to market.
The south western side of the city is for entertainment and houses the nobility. It’s a place I have never spent much time in.
The last is the north western side that is the military district. There, the soldiers are housed with their families. It contains barracks, weapons, smiths, and the three fighting colleges.
I was in that district for four years during Tactical Academy. It is a required course for all students who graduate school in Cirall, the capital of Palantide Gate, and my home.
I step out onto the long street that dissects the city in half, running from east to west. There is another just like it running north to south as well. These streets are for all the shops and merchants.
I enter the street near the massive castle of King Tirok, the ruler of Palantide Gate, and only give it a glance as I move to the west down the long street.
I feel my heart speed, and my breath shorten as I am shunted left and right like a small boat in a storm. The road known as Merchants Ally is only wide enough for two soldiers to march side by side.
It was designed this way to make storming the castle more difficult for the encroaching armies, as it is the only way to the castle. I hate it due to the open air markets lining the sides, causing people to stop and peruse the wares. I am bumped and jostle the entire way through.
I hate crowds, as well as being touched. My diminutive frame and build is finally a blessing as I navigate the crowd.
I begin to rub my palm on my thigh, the rough wool of my robe calming my rising tide of anxiety slightly as I try my best to glide unnoticed through the throng.
The scent of flowers and food overwhelm my nose as the cacophony of sounds from vendors yelling, to buyers arguing, raise my heartrate further. I don’t even realize I am running till I break free of the packed streets onto a wider paved road.
The road known as Merchants Ally is only one third of the merchants district, and is nearest the castle. The further out you go, the wider the streets. This wider area is known as Vendors Court.
The streets here are wide enough for two carts to be drawn side by side, and exchange the open air booths for actual stores.
I take a deep breath and stop rubbing my palm on my robe, examining the fabric where my hand had been. As usual, there is no sign of my hand touching it, let alone rubbing it for fifteen minutes straight.
All my clothes are similarly unmarred. They have never shown a sign of my, what my mother calls, unusual trait. I found it odd with how often I do it, but it allows me to hide the action from my mother, so I was thankful.
I straighten, and begin to casually walk up the street, leaving my hood up. I am out of the thick of the crowds, but I still prefer the hood on. I don't like to stand out or be noticed.
After only a few minutes of walking, I come to a storefront and read the handsome wooden sigh with green lettering.
“Antire’s Fine Furniture and Wood Crafting” the sign proudly announces. I approach the door and push it open.
The hinges make no noise and the door swings in effortlessly. A small bell chimes just above me, announcing a customer has entered.
I look at the seemingly endless sea of furniture that spans the landscape of the room. Beds, tables, and chairs stand around the floor, making a maze of fine woodwork. Armoires and shelves line the walls around the room, coloring the entire place in rustic browns and deep reds.
A door in the far back of the shop opens and a mans stomach wrapped in a white apron precedes him, as his stocky frame enters the room.
The man is large, with dark, intelligent eyes. His skin in only a few shades lighter than the chestnut counter he now slides past. His large handlebar mustache is a matching set to his thick eyebrows, and is the only hair he has.
I notice the slight bit of gleaming sweat on his bald pate as he turns the edge of the counter and bellows, “Welcome to Antire's Fine Furniture and Wood Crafting. Please, make yourself…”
He trails off as his sharp eyes catch sight of me standing only a few feet from the entrance. His salesman smile slipping from his face like the sweat dripping from his forehead, to be replaced with a toothy grin.
“Pax, my boy!” he shouts, throwing his arms wide and moving through the tables and chairs with far more grace than a man his size should have.
“Hi dad,” I reply, my voice a few octaves lower than his. I have an unnaturally deep voice for a five and a half foot tall, skin wrapped skeleton. I note the hesitance in his eyes.
“I thought you were headed up to the college?” His eyes focus on mine, searching for a tell that somethings wrong.
I am not one to deviate from plans. I like things to go the way they are supposed to, and I don't handle change well. He knows that, and I had told him I was headed straight to the college today.
Even though his tone is level and his eyes searching, I don't miss the sparkle of joy in his eyes or the quirk of the corner of his mouth. He is happy to see me.
“I got an early start,” I tell him with a shrug. He gives a slow nod, but doesn’t push. It’s one of the things I respect most about him. He knows I don't like being cornered or questioned.
“Well, I am certainly happy to see you. I have a gift. I was going to send it up to the college tonight, but since you are here,” he says as he makes his way back behind the counter, and pulls a small sack from below the counter. It drops with a soft jingle.
“Fifteen gold, twenty silver, thirty bronze, and fifty black,” I say out of instinct. I have always had a knack for being able to tell how many coins are in a pouch by the sound.
My dad use to test me on it all the time, and I even used it to tell him if customers were being stingy. The pride I recall now shows on his face.
“Take it. It's a little gift for you. A congratulations for getting into the second hardest magic college in Palantide Gate. You worked hard to get here.”
I look from the bag to him, then back again. I don't get why he is gifting me so much for doing so little. I purposely missed questions on tests and held back so I wouldn't be seen as anything but normal. I just want to be normal.
I planned on going to the mercantile academy known as Terna Keh Ulma, but saw my testing papers said my top college is the College of Conjuration and Summoning.
“I haven't been accepted yet. I still have to do the exams. Today is open enrollment, and anyone can go. Hells, even you could walk up there and try out. It's nothing special,” I begin, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“Regardless of if you make it or not, you have worked hard. This will help you settle into your new life. If you don't pass exams, you can try again. Or, you can do the arts college, or merchant work like you originally wanted. Either way, it's yours.”
He isn't wrong about a new life. Fifteen gold is house buying money. Albeit, a small house on the outskirts, but a home. It’s a ton of coin for him just to give away. I have not earned it, nor do I deserve it.
He moves his hand as if to pat my shoulder, but thinks better of it. He knows I don't like being touched, and has always honored that.
I move forward around the counter and hug him. I don't enjoy it, but I don't hate it either. I'm not a hugger, nor do I get why pressing bodies together is a sign of affection, but I know it is, and he earned it.
He jumps in surprise, before gently wrapping me in his huge arms for a second before letting me go.
“Thanks dad,” I say as I move back to the counter. He wipes a tear from his eye before nodding and clearing his throat.
It is small, but I am glad I can give him something I know he has always wanted, but never asked for.
A door opens to my right, and a large man strides in with a side table under one massive arm.
Where my father is a big man with rounded features, this man is all angles. My dad looks to be carved from the trunk of an oak, while the other man seems to be chiseled from granite. A square jaw, large chest, and a flat stomach.
“Hey Tidior,” I say as the man navigates the clutter of the shop with less grace than my hefty father.
“Well hello there Pax! Grand to see you. You on your way to college I assume?” Tidior asks, his voice a bit lower than mine, and less gravely.
“Yeah, just dropped by to give my farewells.”
Tidior has always been good to me. Whether it is because my father gave him a job as his master craftsman, or because he genuinely likes me, I don’t care. He always looked out for me when I apprenticed here with my dad.
I see the mans face fall, and turn to find my dad peering at me. No, at my left cheek where the red handprint was hidden by my hood. Dammit, first I get slapped, now I am going to upset dad. Not today of all days, please gloss over this.
“Who,” is all my father says In an uncharacteristically dangerous tone. I dare not directly lie to him. I will absolutely leave out truths, but a direct lie is out of the question.
“Mom,” I say as I hang my head. I can't look him in the eye. Well, I can't look anyone in the eye. Eye contact freaks me out, but usually I can at least look at the bridge of the nose to fake it. Now, I can't even do that.
“What happened? Why in the name of Furtula did she strike you this time?” he says softly.
Invoking the home of the gods? He is definitely mad. My father does not worship any of the eight, even the god of merchants. For him to use their home in frustration, is bad.
“It was my fault. Mom saw me packing and noticed I cleared my room and threw out all the stuff I can't carry. She went on the same rant as always about me not being normal and what will I do when I have to come home again. I told her I am not returning, ever.”
He looks hurt. I expected anger, maybe sympathy like usual, but not pain. I lift an eyebrow at him as I feel the stinging handprint on my face throb.
“You… aren't coming back?” he asks slowly. I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Tidior is backing quietly out of the room to escape the tension. Gods, I wish I could do that.
“You knew that, hence this,” I say, pointing to the bag of coins that still lay shut on the counter between us. The distance between us feels like it’s a mile wide now.
He rubs the back of his neck in a gesture I know means I am right. He wouldn't give me that much money just for a gift. He was setting me up to move out. He knows how much me and my mother dislike each other.
She hates me because I'm not the chiseled perfect son she wanted. I hate her for the abuse and time I spent under her wooded rolling pin.
“Could you please, at least write her while your away? Maybe drop by the store? I can get her here for a talk.”
I know he loves her, and seeing us fight breaks his heart. He also knows when I say something, I do it to the letter. Never going back to that house is absolute. The store, where he lives most of his life, is neutral ground.
“Sure, I can do that,” I say and grab the coin pouch. He smiles at me, but it’s still sad. I didn't want to leave like this.
I only agreed to appease him, as well as I know my mother will never come to this shop. She always said it smelled of peasants and lacquer. I enjoy the scent of wood and leather that permeates the very foundation. If that’s what a peasant smells like, I like peasants.
I take the coin bag and deposit it in my pocket, then turn and move toward the door.
“Good seeing you Pax!” Tidior says. Peeking around the corner of the door. I wave back to him, giving my dad a smile as I open the door, it gliding easily on well maintained hinges, then proceed into the street.
Chapter 2
College of Misgivings
Half of an hour after the tension with my father, I moved down the even broader streets on the edge of the city. These wider roads are known simply as The Trading Post. They are so big there are even raised pavestone for pedestrians.
The center of the road is for cart traffic, while traveling merchants park on the sides near the sidewalk to try and sell wares to the passing crowds. This area is more for merchants to buy bulk items like wood for furniture.
I look up at one stall showing off rolls of textile and shield my eyes. The rising sun in the west has its customary red corona, signaling it’s the warmest season, though the color is shifted towards orange.
It will soon turn orange, beginning the cooler season before the ring turns full blue. Those are my least favorite months. The cold months are harsh due to my low body fat.
Once those are over the sun shifts to having a pale yellow ring, then back to red. The city center itself is a bowl within a ring of five mountain peaks, and some kind of magic keep it the same year round. The further from the castle you get though, the more you feel the effects.
I pull my robes close around me as a cool breeze nips at my skin. Its not painful, but it doesn't take much for me to feel cold. Actually, I'm pretty much always cold.
“Hey! If that’s you Pax, stand still with a blank stare,” a voice from ahead of me calls. I stare forward trying to make out where he is calling from. I already know who it is by that voice.
Roland, my inly friend, pants heavily as he makes it to my side. He is a stark contrast to me, and to this day I have no idea why he decided to befriend me.
Where I am pale enough to put parchment to shame, he is sun bronzed. I am a five and a half foot talking stick figure, and he is a six and a half foot chiseled masterpiece that gods would get jealous of. He looks like he is chiseled from granite, just like his dad.
“Saw Tidior earlier,” I tell him as he falls into line next to me. His smile widens at my comment and he stands straighter.
“Oh yeah? I thought you were headed for the college. When did you become a spur of the moment kind of guy?” he teases.
I decide not to go into the details about my mother, and change the topic. He knows what I have been through, and I would be surprised if he hasn't already seen my cheek.
“You headed to that fancy knight academy?” I ask in an off handed tone. I want him to know I'm not dismissing him, but the topic is off limits.
“Yep! But orientation isn't till four. Your college is the only one that starts so early. What time again?”
He is right. The College of Conjuration and Summoning has the earliest admittance of any of the ten colleges. The doors open at half past eleven, and close at noon. Its currently a quarter past eleven. I figure I'll make it ten minutes after they open.
“In fifteen minutes. I'm a twenty five minute jog from the gates so I'll make it right on time.”
He nods and smiles at me. I raise an eyebrow to him. He always looks at me with such… admiration. Its like he is proud of me. I never understood it, but I do appreciate it.
“What?” I ask, unsure what he is thinking. He just smiles that odd, proud, grin.
“You did it. You are going to become a summoner. But why didn't you go to Arktouro Prime? I know you held back in school. My grades would have been much worse of you were as dumb as that admissions test says you are.”
He is right I held back, but wrong about the college. There is no way I can make it to the greatest magic college in the world. Arktouro Prime only takes ten students a year, and often only one, if that, graduates. Every sage has come from there, as well as all the arch mages.
“I'm not that smart apparently if I held back. Plus, look at you! You made it into the worlds best military academy! Guate Dua Patche is the greatest, and you will come out a knight, not a soldier!”
I feel my pride for him flair. Roland is a humble as they come, despite looking like a god made man and being good at everything. I still wonder how we became friends.
When I was in school I was bullied for the first few years due to me being… different. He saw that and beat the snot out of everyone who had wronged me.
We have been friends ever since. I learned to stay low and hide in his shadow to avoid the bullies. Now, most of my class mates don't even know I exist. Even my teachers forgot to put me on the list of attendance once or twice not realizing I was sitting in the class.
He is also the reason I survived Tactical Academy. He graduated top of the class with five merit stars. I have one. One just means you survived. If I was ever conscripted into service, my one star would mean I would be cannon fodder.
Roland will automatically be an officer if he gets pulled in before he graduates.
“It's only thanks to you. You helped me out big time! I would have never passed the magic skills and history classes,” he says, waving emphatically. He has always talked with his hands.
“And you kept me alive. Thanks for that. Guess I'm going to have to learn how to protect myself now.”
He laughs and stops walking. We have reached the intersection in the road that splits north and west. We stand awkwardly at the corner, both swaying slightly.
He will never understand my yearning to be normal. He has always fit in. I couldn't ask him to get it either.
We both stand, knowing this is it. My exams are only four weeks long, so I will be free after that. His exams last six months. Each month he will have to take a test to weed out the weak. He could loose it all on the last exam and have wasted half a year for nothing. He won't though. He is the best of us.
“In six months, when you get out of examinations, lets meet up. I'll tell you what it’s like to be a summoner, and you tell me how awesome you did at exams. Ok?” I say as Roland stands with his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks Pax,” he says and nods. I don't know if it was the hug I gave my father that made me extra generous today, but I put out my hand for Roland.
“Hells Pax, don't go all soft on me now. I may start to think you like me or something,” he teases, but takes my hand. The grip is surprisingly gentle. I have seen the man break bricks with these hands, yet they barely clasp mine.
Once the handshake breaks we go our separate ways. I quickly check to make sure he is out of sight, and begin wiping my hand off on my robe.
It’s not that I am worried his hands are dirty, but contact like that makes my skin crawl. It’s a reflexive thing. I held off as long as I could to make sure I didn't upset my only friend.
After a long jog, breaking into a run for a bit to make up time, I get to the bottom of the massive stairs. They ascend the side of the mountain, where one of the five great magical colleges waits.
Each of the five mountain tops was magically transformed into a castle by the original five sages who settled this country. All the modern sages live off in the Citadel now, but they visit when they feel like it. No one tells a sage what to do.
Sages are only a step down from god. They become so well practiced and versed in magic they stop aging permanently.
Only six currently exist. A new one only reaching the level of sage every hundred or so years.
I begin the long trek up the stairs, one foot in front of the other. My mind thinks of everything and nothing at once. Sages, magic theory, exams, and how ridiculously cold it’s getting whirl through my mind.
I notice a few young men and women in robes panting and taking breaks on my way up. I'm not strong or fast, but I have limitless endurance. It doesn't take much energy to move my tiny frame.
It is one of the only things that kept me from falling behind in Tactical Academy. Long runs are my specialty. All the others would leave me in the dirt when we start, but when they ran out of steam I would just keep going.
I reach the top of the steps and find a flat stone area before the three story tall gates. I ogle up at the things. The gates, like everything else, are made of stone. Even the hinges are the same light gray material.
“There is no way they can function, or even hold that much weight,” I say quietly as I walk through the fifty foot wide doors.
The courtyard is thankfully blocked from the wind by five story tall walls in a circle. The window dotting them must be the dorms and class rooms.
High above me, I can see the castle. It’s huge. The thing is bigger than King Tirok's and more embellished. Five great spires surround the center tower in a work of art.
I find a group of twenty students standing around a raised dais in the center of the courtyard. I mill around the rear to mot draw any attention to myself before checking my pocket watch.
“11:42" good, just like I had hoped. I'm not the first or last student here. Judging by how many poor winded people I passed on my way up there is probably another ten on the way.
The cold causes me to shudder, and I wrap my arms close to hold in what warmth I have. I don't do well in cold.
I decide to use a little magic to help myself out. We are taught basic magic in school, though you aren't required to be able to do it. I learned how to draw magic from my environment.
Magic flows up from the ground, then into water, then the air. I read some books about the types of magic and how to use them before coming to the college to prepare.
I know the college will most likely give us the books to read, but I wanted a bit of a head start.
The useful one was titled “Professor Gideon’s guide to the flow of magic.” It talked about the three forms of magic, and what they were useful for.
Air magic, drawn into the lungs, is best for light and air type spells. You can use any magic for any spell, but best results come from the right pairing.
I put a hand out, and feel nothing. The air here is so thin it doesn't seem to hold magic. That doesn't surprise me though. The book talked about the environment influencing the stream of power. There is no water around me either, judging by how parched I feel.
I only have one other option. I dig deep into the stone below my feet. Earth drawn magic is the most potent, as it is directly from the source.
Power hums through my toes and legs, vibrating in my bones. Most non-mages can draw magic, but can't properly convert it. I figured it out by reading. One of my prouder moments.
The power soon floods up my spine, down my arms, and crawls over my skull. Once I am full, I begin to draw it down into my core. The power balls up in my belly. That’s where I want it if I am turning it into fluid type magic.
Fluid type is best for water magic, but also blood magic. First time I did this spell I was so proud I showed my mom. I got a beating for using what she calls “evil demon magic”. Blood magic isn't evil.
I pour the pour from my stomach out, and it flows into my veins. It pulses like the waves of the ocean through me, bouncing at the tips of my fingers and toes, then sloshing back to my chest. I feel the slight head rush from it.
I then use the spell I learned. I use the power to create heat. Turning magic to raw energy. I learned you have to be careful with this spell. Too much and you can boil your blood. You won't die, you would break concentration first, but it will hurt real bad.
I feel my body grow warm, and let out a sigh of relief. My breath condenses on the cold air in a cloud of fog. I really hope no one sees it.
I look around to see if anyone is watching, and feel my heart plummet. I was so busy working my spell, I didn't notice all the students show up behind me.
Around twenty people now stand at my back. I am in a sea of colored robes, and feel like I am back in the Merchants Ally.
Dammit, stay calm. Just, walk backwards out of the crowd. Don't draw attention. I reach into my pocket and find the coin bag.
I draw a gold coin into my hand, and run the rough edge against my finger. The pain clears my head and allows me to focus. I would rub my thigh, but I have a feeling that would draw more attention.
I begin to slowly slip through the crowd backwards towards the edge of the mass.
“So, pretty impressive right?” a voice says to my right. I stop and panic. I do not want to get stuck small talking. I am terrible at it anyway.
“Yeah, it’s huge!” a female responds. I peek and see a man in lavish multi colored robes standing by a small girl with blond hair.
She is from Elucia. The blond hair and green eyes with the completion close to mine is a dead give a way. Elucia is our neighboring country to the north west. It’s a colder climate, which explains her fur lined cloak. I envy her.
“It's alright, but size isn't everything. I've been in King Tirok's castle at least a dozen times as a personal guest and must say it is much nicer,” the man in the colorful robes says in a pompous tone.
I roll my eyes and continue back, but stop as an old man with a white beard and hair steps up onto the dais. His blue robes mark him as a wizard, and the golden stars on it mean he is a master.
“Welcome to the College of Conjuration and Summoning. I am Professor Willgem. I study the history of magic, and will pass that trusted knowledge onto you. Today, you enter your admissions evaluation. From this point forward, you will be evaluated on everything you do. At the end of four weeks we will give you a test to see if you are worth if becoming a student of the arcane. That being said, this is not like any other college out there. If you fail this course, you will be expelled from any magic society you may want to try out for. This is not a school for you to test your luck then try again. You either succeed, or fail.”
I freeze near the back of the crowd. He can't be serious, can he? If I fail this exam, it’s not like I can just go to another college if I am banned from the magic society. If I fail, it means my options are only to be a merchant.
I feel terror rise in me at the idea that I can't just try again if I don't make it. I knew I should have tried the alchemy academy first.
“You have till my speech is finished to leave. After that, if you leave, you fail. You must make it one month here or you will be expelled from this school and all mage institutions.”
Professor Willgem nods and waits a moment for the crowd to stop murmuring before starting again. I don't wait, but turn and walk towards the gates.
I have no idea what drove me to come to this college in the first place. The papers we got from school told us what our most likely academy would be, but no one has to follow it.
I figure I will head to the alchemist college or runes college instead. Their orientation isn't till four, so I have enough time to get to either before they close admissions today. I knew the summoner’s academy wasn't for me before I came here, I should have listened to myself.
The small feeling inside me pulls me toward my left. The same feeling that drove me to come here today. I turn and find a familiar face at the back of the line. A tall man with a short shock of black hair and handsome features stands above the rest of the crowd.
His name is Talbert. He sat next to me in a few courses, and I helped him through history and math class. The pull in me forces me to approach him.
“Hey Talbert,” I say as I draw near to him. He turns, and I see confusion in his eyes. He doesn't remember me. Shocker. No one hardly noticed me, let alone remembers me.
“Oh, hey. You trying out too then?” he says in a friendly tone. I can tell he is trying to cover up he doesn't know me. I pull a paper from within my robes.
“You never struck me as a conjurer. You seemed more like the warrior type,” I say as I hold up the papers.
He scans them, and try’s to hide his surprise. The list is from our school, so he knows we both attended. He looks at me hard before recognition sparks in his eyes.
“You helped me study and passed me answers in history! Hey, how are you doing… Pax,” he says, pausing to read my name off the paper while pretending not to.
“Just regretting my choice coming here. I think I'm going to leave,” I say as he takes the papers from my out stretched hand. He in turn hands me his papers.
I peruse the sheet and find “Warriors Guild Academy” as the first option. I knew it. He was great in physical classes all through school, failing in the history and math but excelling in magic.
The College of Conjuration and Summoning is low on his list. It only has a fifty three percent chance by it.
“Why on earth are you here? You would do great at the Warriors Academy.”
He turns to me and his mouth turns down. It's like I can see the gears turning in his brain. His eyes flick back to my paper in his hands.
“My dad is a summoner. He always wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Better question, why are you leaving? You are super smart,” he said as he flips through the three papers clipped together.
“Apparently not that smart if I'm walking out of here now,” I retort as he reads.
The second page lists our activities and clubs. My page is pretty lacking there. Only club I was in was a club called “Arthropods and Arachnids are awesome”. The guy in charge of naming it lacked in the imagination department.
Talbert's page is full of clubs from fighters club to an archery club and all sorts of military exercise groups.
Why in Furtula would he give up on a great opportunity to appease his dad? He was Roland’s sparing partner and even got four stars in Tactical Academy.
“You have an eighty seven percent in every class but fitness. You are so smart you can evaluate each class and score exactly what you want by missing questions on purpose. You belong in Arktouro Prime.”
He lifts the back page of my papers to show me. The last page gives the grades. His eyebrow lifts as he waits for my response, as if he has won.
“You call purposefully missing questions smart? In that case you should throw every test and you will be a genius,” I snap back and take my papers back.
I glance at his grades before returning his. He has a ninety seven in fitness and ninety four in magic.
“Throwing questions to get exactly the same grade in every class is intelligent, but not wise. My dad always says intelligence is knowing how to do something. Wisdom is know when and where to do it. Still leaving?” he says as he claims his pages from my hand.
I don't respond, simply turning toward the gates for the stairs. I see a few students out on the steps, and move to join them.
Two steps in, the huge gates slammed shut. Turns out, they do work. A roar of applause rises behind me as I slowly turn and find the wizard moving slowly off the dais. Well, guess I'm a summoner now.