The Last of the Firedrakes Page 18

  “How quaint, Duke Silverthorne’s poor orphaned ward,” Calisto said scathingly. “Damien, you do have a penchant for picking up strays. This one is the scruffiest one yet.” She eyed me up and down.

  I looked down, a little embarrassed. I knew I was not a blonde bombshell like her, but I wasn’t bad looking. With my long black hair and big green eyes I thought I was quite striking, but I soon remembered I now had short, mousy brown hair and eyes the color of mud. Still, I wasn’t that bad. Was I? Obviously Calisto thought so.

  I couldn’t think of a retort to Calisto’s mean comment, so I just said nothing. I think she expected a fight, and now looked disappointed that her jabs hadn’t worked.

  “My sister,” Damien added, as an afterthought, as if it explained her behavior towards me. “She is in the second year here at Evolon.”

  I was confused. What did they want with me? Did they really want to be friends, or was this something else? I looked at Calisto and then at Zorek. They had resumed their banter and seemed to have forgotten I was there.

  “So,” said Damien, “it seems that we are in the same warrior skills class.”

  “Oh!” I said. I wasn’t very good at conversation, especially with boys. I thought I had been getting better at it; obviously I had deceived myself. I was still a complete idiot when it came to these things. The strange thing was that I didn’t even like Damien, I just wanted so much to be accepted that I didn’t want to be rude.

  He continued to chatter on about classes and some gossip about one of the professors. Mostly I had no clue who or what he was talking about. In a few minutes they all got up to leave.

  “See you later at warrior skills,” said Damien in a know-it-all manner, as if he was merely stating a fact instead of asking me.

  I nodded and waved good-bye. Calisto and Zorek didn’t even look back. I dropped my hand, embarrassed. What was wrong with me? I felt like kicking myself as I finished playing with the remnants of food on my tray.

  Finally Vivienne ran over, huffing and puffing. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, as soon as she saw my face. “I was in the alchemy house when one of the students blew up the whole classroom. We had to go and help the rest of the class and take them to the healers.”

  One of the girls from my dorm, the one who ignored me at the breakfast table, sauntered over. Her hair was flaming red and tied in a frizzy ponytail, but it was her massive nose that dominated her gaunt face.

  “So, looks like Damien has taken a liking to you,” she said, a silly smile spreading across her face.

  “He wanted to be friends, I guess,” I said, glancing at Vivienne who finally sat down next to me. She didn’t say anything, but just started eating her food.

  “And you said yes, of course,” the girl squealed. “How lucky you are to get asked out by Damien Blackwater in your first week here.”

  “Oh, is that his full name?” I said, scrunching up my nose. “Suits him. And no, I did not agree to go out with him. I just sat with him for lunch.”

  “Same thing,” she said, sitting down next to me. “Will you be seeing him again?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “In class, I guess,” I said, hoping to look nonchalant.

  “I would stay away from Damien if I were you,” said Vivienne, raising her eyebrows at me.

  “Damien doesn’t talk to just anybody. He’s the most popular boy in the school,” the girl piped up. “I’m Celia, by the way. Celia Greendew. My father is a viscount, in case you were wondering.”

  I wasn’t, but I didn’t say that aloud. What was wrong with these people? Did they just become friends with me because of who I knew? And was it really necessary for me to know that her father was a viscount?

  “Vivienne is right,” Celia went on, tucking into a huge slice of apple pie. “Damien is a bit of a snob and very arrogant. Just because his father is a duke and his uncle is the archmage, he knows he can get away with anything.”

  “His uncle is Archmage Lucian?” I said. I didn’t know that.

  “Is there any other?” asked Celia, frowning.

  I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at Vivienne, who was also looking at me quizzically. I felt like kicking myself. I needed to be more careful.

  “Well, you should know that he and the others hate all the Silverthornes,” said Celia.

  “Others?” I asked confused, looking over at Vivienne.

  “Other Blackwaters. His elder brother Zorek and his sister Calisto are not to be trifled with,” said Vivienne. “They are sort of royalty in the school. Cousins to the prince.”

  “They are?” I asked Vivienne, my eyes wide. I didn’t know this.

  “You don’t know?” said Celia sharply. “You are the Silverthorne ward; you should know this.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I had to be more careful with what I said. I could tell that even Vivienne was looking at me strangely, and I was sure she suspected something was wrong with my story.

  “Celia,” said Vivienne to my surprise, covering for me. “She has just recently arrived from Andrysia, so it is possible that they don’t know much about the Blackwater’s in the northern kingdoms.”

  Celia looked at me. “Maybe,” she said. “But soon all of Avalonia will know about them.” She moved closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I heard my parents talking, and apparently our crown prince is a wastrel. He spends his days sleeping and his nights in various unsavory taverns and gaming halls. They say that after King Petrocales dies, the Duke of Blackwater will overthrow the ruling Ravenswood Dynasty and take over Eldoren.”

  “Celia!” Vivienne gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s treason to talk like this.”

  Celia shrugged. “Well, it’s true. Everyone is talking about it. The Prince of Eldoren is a complete rake, and he is not bothered about the kingdom at all. His father has guards following him now all the time just to make sure he comes home at night. But he somehow always manages to evade them.”

  Could there really be so much unrest in Eldoren as well? I had no idea how complicated the ties were within the nobility. There was so much to learn and so little time, and I had to be careful about my story. This time I was lucky, but if I slipped up again, someone would figure out who I really was.

  “Oh no, we’re late,” said Vivienne, jumping up and banging her head on a low-hanging branch.

  “Ow,” she squealed, rubbing her head.

  Celia rolled her eyes. “When are you not late, Vivienne?” she said tartly.

  Vivienne just made a face, ignored Celia, and gathered her things.

  I laughed and got up. “See you later, then,” I said to Celia. “I’ve got to go too. Don’t want to be late for my first warrior skills class.” I turned and hurried out of the outdoor cafeteria.

  “Do you think Celia is telling the truth?” I asked Vivienne as we walked to class. “Maybe all these stories about the prince are rumors, did anyone ever think of that? I don’t think he could be all that bad.”

  Vivienne shook her head. “Celia’s right, I have also heard my parents talking recently, and apparently the Eldorean nobles have already been moving their allegiance from the ruling Ravenswood dynasty to the Blackwaters. Father says King Petrocales has pinned all his family’s hopes on the Silverthornes. Your guardian is the most powerful lord on the royal council, and Father says that, without Silverthorne, the Ravenswood dynasty will come to an end. It is the Duke of Silverthorne who is the real power behind the throne. He is chief advisor to the king, and the Blackwater’s hate him. So be careful.”

  “Why should I have to be careful?” I said. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter to the Blackwaters,” said Vivienne. “You are a Silverthorne. If I were you, I would watch my back.”

  We walked down open corridors, past gardens and fountains, to the eastern grounds of the academy. A large marquee was set up in an open field, overlooking the sea. This was to be an outdoor class, and it seemed like it would be fun. The cool sea breeze ran across my
face. I could hear the waves lapping on the shores of the beach, below the steep white cliff. I was early, and only two other boys, whom I recognized from my healing class, were whispering to each other on one side of the marquee.

  Soon the rest of the students came in twos and threes, and finally Damien Blackwater and a group of boys and girls I hadn’t met before walked in. He had such a smug look on his face that I felt like smacking him. I was not too happy to be sharing a class with Damien, and especially this one. Warrior skills would be the most important if I were going to learn to defend myself. I had only just learned to put up a shield and even then I couldn’t hold it for long.

  “All right, everyone,” said a big, booming voice. “My name is Professor Tanko, and you may call me Baron or Sir. Is that clear?”

  I looked up to see a massive man with plaited red hair, wearing a leather breastplate under the black robes that swirled about him as he strode into the center of the marquee. He carried a huge sword at his hip.

  “Now, I understand that most of you have no training in warrior skills at all. But no matter; you are here to learn, and I will teach you what you need to know. The basic skills are easy to practice and should hopefully be enough to defend yourself should the need arise,” said Professor Tanko. “Advanced magical warrior training is quite another matter. I know that all of you have the potential, or you would not be in this school, and we shall find out soon enough. Now, I want all of you to pair up.”

  Unfortunately we were not allowed to choose our own partners. Professor Tanko paired everyone up, and much to my disdain I was partnered with Damien.

  “Now, I want all of you to take a defensive position,” said the Baron, his voice drowning out the sound of the waves. “Shielding will be our first lesson. I presume everyone here has read the theory about shielding, chapters one through four, and knows how to create a shield even if it hasn’t been successful. If not, I expect you to do the needful by tomorrow’s class.”

  The professor went through the groups checking our shields.

  “Now, keeping your shields up, I want you to pick up a pebble and throw it at your opponent.”

  I did as I was told, and concentrated on keeping my shield in place. It was easier this time because I had done it before. I flung my pebble at Damien, and it bounced effortlessly off his shield. But suddenly I felt a pain on my shin, and I collapsed on the ground. My shield had wavered, and Damien’s pebble, which was more like a large stone, hit me hard.

  Professor Tanko came over to me. “Your name?” he said.

  “Rory, Baron. I mean, Sir Baron,” I said, getting up and rubbing my shin. That hurt a lot.

  The big professor smiled at me. “Just Baron or Sir is fine,” he said kindly. “Rory, you must remember that concentration is the key. The first rule is: always keep your shield up, no matter what. It gives you time to think, to decide what to do. When you attack your opponent, your shield must not waver. It is the main novice mistake. At the time of attack, your shield is at its weakest.”

  He turned to the rest of the class. “If your shield is strong when you attack, it will not break. Nothing can penetrate the shield unless you let it,” he said. “Now try again. Shields up!”

  I calmed down and drew my magical shield around myself. I concentrated on holding the shield while I did other things. We practiced this for a whole hour, and by the end of the class my shield was getting better, but I was tired, and Damien kept taunting me and breaking my concentration. Sometimes my shield would waver just enough for him to get a hit in.

  “All right, that’s enough for the day,” said Baron Tanko.

  * * *

  Illusions class was more fun. Our professor was a young man, probably in his thirties or so, and quite an entertainer. For our first class, he made six illusions of himself and walked them around the classroom. We had to try and recognize which ones were illusions and which one was really him.

  They all looked the same. Short, curly blond hair, eyes the color of a shallow lagoon, and a wide toothy smile. Each one was dressed exactly alike, in black robes lined with silver. One girl touched the arm of one of the illusions, and it dissipated in a puff of smoke.

  “Very good, Marietta,” said Professor Swindern, from the other side of the room. “That, as you just saw, is one way to tell if it is an illusion or not. Illusions are not real. Transformation, however, is a different thing altogether, and much harder to do. Although it is taught as one class, transformation and illusion are not the same thing.”

  I raised my hand for the first time since I had come to school. I had a question.

  “Yes?” said the professor, squinting against the light to see me at the back.

  I stood up. A few people turned to look at me, probably noticing me for the first time.

  “Is it possible for a mage to change the appearance of a person?” I asked. “Like, say, hair color or the color of your eyes?”

  The professor nodded as the four remaining illusions dissipated into tendrils of smoke.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “It can be done. Many of the ladies of the nobility pay handsomely for these services. Some want their hair color changed, and some want different colored eyes; some even want their lips permanently reddened. In fact, many mages who leave the university get jobs doing precisely this.”

  I nodded, sitting back down on my bench. I was confused. If mages could do all that, then why did Rafe take me to see the old fae lady Magdalene and get her to use fae glamour on me?

  I decided to ask Penelope after class.

  “Mages use illusions to change things into what they want them to be. Some illusions can be temporary, and some can last for years. It all depends on the will of the mage who performs the transformation or creates the illusion,” Professor Swindern was saying to the whole class. “Now, can everyone please turn to pages six and seven in your books, and we can begin.”

  * * *

  It was a warm evening, and the leaves rustled gently as I walked down the flower-lined paths of the academy. I was looking for Penelope, so I went to her room in the professors’ house.

  I knocked gently on the stout oak door.

  “Come in, come in,” said Penelope, opening the door and smiling as she always did. “What is bothering you, my dear? Come and sit with me and tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing has really happened as such,” I said, sitting down next to her on the comfortable cream couch. “It’s just that I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Yes,” said Penelope patiently, giving me her full attention. “What is it you want to know?”

  “If mages can change a person’s appearance, why did I have to go to the fae lady in the woods to do it? Rafe or even you could have done it. Now how will I get rid of it when I want to? Will I have to go back to Magdalene to have it removed?” I asked, all in one breath.

  “Firstly, my dear, you had to change your appearance before you traveled to Neris, or even Greystone,” said Penelope after a moment of silent contemplation. “And I was not with you.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but then why didn’t Rafe or even Uncle Gabriel do it?”

  “Because,” said Penelope, “fae glamour, though it is similar to mage illusion, is undetectable by mages. If Rafe or your granduncle had put the illusion on you, or even if you did it yourself, the mages would be able to sense it.”

  Oh! I thought inwardly. That made sense.

  “But can someone else remove it, or will I have to go back to her?” I asked.

  “I can remove it for you when you wish it,” said Penelope. “Do not worry, my dear, for now you know that it is better to leave it as it is. I will remove it for you when the time is right.”

  I was relieved. I said good night to Penelope and thanked her for all her help. I was exhausted and aching all over, so I had a long, hot bath and got into bed. I was too tired to go for dinner, and Vivienne very sweetly brought me a baked potato and an apple to eat in my room.

  Celia came over to say go
od night, but I suspected she was only being nice to me for a chance to get to know Damien. Vivienne had told me earlier that Celia had been trying to get Damien to notice her for years; everyone knew that she had a huge crush on him. But I was too tired to be bothered about that just then. Tomorrow would, hopefully, be better.

  The next day, I tried to ignore Damien and the other Blackwaters. I just grabbed my breakfast and ate on my way to class. Vivienne was busy in alchemy and would be the whole day. Damien cornered me after my healing class.

  “Are you trying to avoid me?” he said. He looked more amused than angry. “I was just teasing you in class yesterday. I hope you didn’t take all that childish banter seriously.”

  “No,” I said, looking him straight in the eyes.

  I was still irritated with him and just wanted him to leave me alone. He was mean and selfish. But I realized that this was a perfect opportunity for me to get close to Damien and find out more about Lucian and Morgana’s plans. If I pretended to be friends with him, I may overhear something of importance that could help my granduncle.

  Damien’s voice interrupted my reverie. “So are you coming or not?” he asked abruptly, probably nonplussed that I wasn’t hanging on his every word like half the other girls in the school.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear the question,” I answered sweetly. I was enjoying his confusion. I wanted to upset him, but not too much. I needed to get friendly so I could find out what he knew.

  “I asked if you wanted to come with us into town tonight,” Damien said slowly, as if he was talking to an imbecile.

  I fought hard to control my temper; he always brought out the worst in me. “But isn’t it forbidden to leave the academy grounds after dark?” I said, and I immediately felt stupid for saying it. Of course they would be breaking rules. The Blackwaters didn’t think that any rules applied to them.