Quicksand Media

“I said NO!” Volinette pushed the lute back into her mother’s arms with more force than she had intended. There was a dissonant twang and snap as the neck of the heirloom instrument broke free of the body.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Reanna said. “Your grandfather’s lute. Ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” Volinette replied. She was. The best memories of her childhood were at her grandfather’s knee, listening to him sing and play. “I’m sorry, but I’m not grandfather, I’m not father, and I’m not you. I don’t want to carry on the line. I don’t want to be a bard! I want to do this!”

Volinette realized she had been shouting, her nails were biting into the palms of her hands. She forced herself to take a deep breath, wincing as she realized that she did so as a singer would.

“I can feel the Taka ebb and flow. Feel it washing over us. Feel it washing through us,” She paused, gazing at the entrance to the tower which stood at the verge of the courtyard. “And I am its vessel.”

Reanna scuffed the toe of her sandal against the sandstone and stared off into to the distance, her lips set in a thin white line. It was a long time before it she replied.

“How can you know?”

“I don’t know. I can’t know. But I have to try.”

“You’re sure?”

Volinette didn’t reply. She looked up at the obsidian tower glistening in the sunlight. How many had thought they were a vessel only to come here and fail. To be sent home with token honors but knowing that they were ultimately unworthy.

For years she had been forced to keep her communion with the Taka a secret. Her father had said that her special abilities could easily frighten the other villagers. Volinette would always remember the beating that he had given her after she used a few simple spells to amuse the children one afternoon. That day she had realized her father wasn’t afraid for her. He was afraid of her.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and Volinette wiped it away angrily. She hadn’t cried when her father had taken a switch to her bare shoulders and she surely wouldn’t cry now. Regardless of what her parents thought, she would pass her tests and become a wizard.

The large silver bell at the top of the tower began to toll, calling out an invitation to those who believed they possessed the skills needed to enter the School of Sorcery. Her tears forgotten, Volinette hefted her sack from the ground, swung it over her shoulder, and started toward the tower. After she was accepted into the academy, she could put the shame and humiliation of her past behind her.

“Come, Mother, it is time to finish what I’ve started.”

Volinette walked across the courtyard, her head held high and proud.

A page met them at the door and led them through the labyrinth of dark glass corridors under the Great Tower. He commented offhandedly on various artifacts that were on display, obviously bored of his assignment. The page ushered them into an immense chamber, the High Council’s Concordance.

Volinette gazed around the room, her eyes bulging. Never in life had she seen such ornate adornments. The walls were draped with brightly colored tapestries depicting various scenes from Solendrea’s past. Each was woven in vivid detail, each more captivating than the last. Plush fur rugs were piled upon the floor, adding a warm insulating layer between her thin sandals and the cold glass.

An exquisite obsidian throne dominated the center of the room. Its intricate detail was the life’s work of a dozen master craftsmen and wizards. Volinette took at step toward it and felt the latent Taka wash over her. She gasped and stepped back.

The tables, where the Masters would sit when the council was in session, were arranged in wide half-circles in front of the throne. The scent of roses was as thick as spilled perfume, but Volinette couldn’t locate fresh flowers anywhere. Large oil lanterns hung from short brass chains anchored in the ceiling, casting warm circles of light on the floor and helping to heat the subterranean room.

Volinette ran her hand along one of the tables, relishing every inch of the polished wood. They were ancient and worn smooth, almost soft to the touch. Volinette had often wondered what it was like to be a Master on the High Council, being in the room only intensified that curiosity. What would it be like when she had finally graduated the academy and became a Master herself?

Those days were a long way off, she scolded herself. She hadn’t even been accepted into the School of Sorcery and yet she was already making plans for what life would be like when she finally became a Master.

Though there was still a shadow of a doubt in her mind, Volinette was almost sure that she would be selected to enter the academy. Though forbidden from doing so in public, she had practiced her magic deep in the woods where she couldn’t be seen and punished for her errant love. Still, there were things that she did not know and in the Great Tower she would be expected to learn and control real magic. Forces that could kill.

Volinette shuddered. Her father relished telling the story of a young man from their village that had dabbled in magic he didn’t understand. The spell had backfired horribly, searing the flesh from the boy’s skull. Her father had been trying to scare her out of her passion for magic, but failed. Volinette knew that her father wanted to be rid of her as much as she wanted to become a wizard. Her parents had been very careful to whisper their fears in the darkest hours of the night but Volinette had still heard them argue about their daughter’s future.

As Volinette glanced about the room, she realized that she was much younger than the others who had come for the test. Most of the other hopefuls were into early adulthood, while she was barely halfway through her teens.

A handsome young man slipped through the crowd and came to stand by Volinette. He was tall and muscular, with dirt under his fingernails and thick calluses on his fingertips that marked him as a member of a farming community. His face was broad and tanned, with a crooked smile and a thick shock of unruly brown hair than hung down over his forehead.

“You’re Volinette of Wheatborne, aren’t you?”

Volinette peered closely at the young man. He looked very familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Sudden realization dawned on her and she broke into a wide smile. Jaleel’s family had traveled through her village last summer, bartering the surplus cattle from their ranches.

“Jaleel,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too. Have you come to see one of your brothers test for the academy?”

“Actually,” she uttered through clenched teeth, her cheeks blazing. “I’m here to take the test myself.”

“You!” Jaleel gave a hearty bark of laughter. “You’re just a kid! A girl! How can you expect to win a place in the School?”

“Girls actually have an easier time learning the more complicated rituals, Jaleel,” a contralto voice chimed in from behind them. “I would remember that if I were you.”

The young man whirled to face the new voice and realized that it was his turn to flush. Maera, the Head Master of the High Council, stood behind him with her arms folded across her chest. She was clad in her finest ceremonial robes, the black satin cloak shimmering under the lantern light. Maera’s long silver hair was drawn back in a braid, her amber eyes dancing with amusement over the young man’s discomfort.

“I beg your pardon, Head Master,” Jaleel finally managed to say. “I was just…”

“I know what you were doing.” Maera’s voice was as cold as the Northern Rim. “You have other, better things your should be doing. Run along.”

The Head Master watched as the young man slunk off, his head hung low. Apparently satisfied, she turned to Volinette with a warm smile.

“As for you, young lady, have you been practicing for today?”

“Yes, Head Master. As often as I could manage to slip away from my chores.”

Volinette shot a sidelong glance at her mother, whose lips had returned to the thin white line. She was sure that her mother had known she was abandoning her duties, but it was obvious that she hadn’t known why.

“Good,” Maera said, ignoring the sudden friction. “Even Masters have to practice. Remember that.”

“I will, Head Master.”

Maera winked and disappeared into the growing crowd. Volinette gaped, unable to believe that she had just spoken with the most powerful woman in Dragonfall. Shivers ran up her spine as she relived the conversation in her mind.

A tap on her shoulder brought Volinette out of her reverie. She looked up. Her mother was pointing across the chamber where Maera was climbing to the top of the throne.

“Be seated, please.” Maera’s magically amplified voice bounced off the glass walls, penetrating the mind as well as the ear. The Head Master paused for a moment, allowing the candidates and their families’ time enough to make themselves comfortable and then settled herself into the throne.

“Welcome to the Great Tower. You’ve traveled from the very edges of the land to participate in the test that will determine this year’s applicants to the School of Sorcery. Many of you come well prepared for the challenge that you will undertake. However, many of you are still young and inexperienced. It is to you that I put the following warning.

“The tests are not intentionally designed to kill; they are primarily designed to test the skill and wit of those who would be the future Masters of the High Council. They are, by necessity, hard on the applicant. I will not lie to you and tell you that no applicant has ever died. In fact, the opposite is true. We mourn the loss of each young soul, but the threat of death is something that each of us must face.

“If any of you have doubts, leave now and come back after your experience has grown. There is no shame in admitting that you must wait for another day. In fact, it is a strong person indeed who can admit his or her own weakness. It is far better to walk out of this chamber with a minor injury to your pride, than to end up injured in the test yard because you weren’t ready.”

Maera paused a moment and Volinette considered the implications of the warning. She had come this far; she wasn’t about to give up now. Besides, she was sure she could do it.

“It is time to take the next steps of your journey. I must ask the families of the applicants to leave now. You’ve escorted them as far as the Great Tower, but they must make the rest of the voyage alone.”

Volinette looked up as her mother slipped a finger under her chin.

“Are you ready?” Reanna asked, looking deep into her daughter’s eyes.

“I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time.”

For the first time, Volinette saw something new in her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t displeasure or fear, it was true understanding.

“I believe you.”

Reanna spun on her heel and walked quickly out of the room, as if afraid that staying longer would reveal things she’d rather keep hidden. Volinette watched her go without remorse. It had been a short goodbye, but it had meant more to her than anything any member of her family had ever done.

The exodus thinned and soon only the candidates remained. Volinette noted that their number was greatly reduced. Many of the hopefuls had slipped out of the room to practice more before returning next year. Maera cleared her throat, attracting their attention.

“So the rest of you believe that you have what it takes to finish the test. Good. It takes a strong mind to become a Master of the magical arts and I think that at least some of you will make it all the way.”

Maera stood and descended from the throne, standing in the midst of the candidates.

“From this point onward, each of you will be known as an apprentice in homage to the work that you have put forward to reach this point. Even if you are defeated in the test, you will always have that rank and honor within the Great Tower. Come now, let us begin.”

Maera swept out of the chamber, leading the procession of young men and women up through the bowels of the Great Tower and out into the courtyard. Assembled in a loose circle were all the current Masters, even those too old to attend the regular council meetings. As the apprentices entered, a cheer went up from the assembly, followed by a welcome of warm applause. These young people, or those that passed the test, would be their peers in years to come. They deserved the same respect.

Maera stopped in the center of the courtyard, motioning for the apprentices to gather around her.

“The rules of the test are simple. You merely need to stay conscious, and alive, for the duration of the test. You will have only your magic to protect you, so use it wisely. In a moment, the Masters will create a spell dome over the courtyard, trapping you inside.

“There are five open places in the School of Sorcery, so the last five apprentices standing will fill those slots. Do you understand?”

Volinette and the other apprentices nodded. The courtyard had grown silent as the last echoes of Maera’s instructions died away.

“Good. Let the test begin.”

The silence was shattered by a crack of thunder. Maera had disappeared from the courtyard and only the apprentices remained.

Volinette instinctively looked skyward, sensing the presence of the force dome. It was there as promised, as if the courtyard were encased in a thickness of smeared sky. Objects on the outside of the dome were blurred, as if she had just emerged from a deep sleep and hadn’t yet wiped the night sand from her eyes.

A piercing scream snapped Volinette back to the task at hand. A skeleton was clawing its way out of the earth, its empty eye sockets alight with a sinister orange glow. Other skeletons emerged, shuffling toward the apprentices as they huddled together.

Volinette forced her feet to move, separating herself from the huddled mass of her colleagues. Across the dome she could see Jaleel hurling miniature bolts of lightning at the monstrous creatures, detonating them in bursts of bone fragments and dust.

The others were catching on now, each fighting according to their own talents. One young woman arched her fingers above her head, drawing a ball of magical flame from the air and sending it slamming into her foe.

Volinette felt an icy finger press into her flesh and whirled to stare directly into the face of death. Dropping to her knees, she rolled from the creature’s grasp, coming to stand behind it. Volinette wove an intricate pattern in the air with her fingers while speaking the words of power. She felt the Taka flow through her as strand of tacky webbing flew from her fingers, cocooning the skeleton. The beast fell to the ground, unable to keep its balance.

There was no time to rest. As the apprentices destroyed the skeletons, more horrific creatures appeared. Noxious trolls materialized from out of thin air and entered the fray, their battle-axes swinging in wide arcs of instant death. Volinette watched in horror as a boy no older than twelve was cleaved in half at the waist, the wicked blade spilling his entrails onto the cobblestones. It was suddenly real. Deathly real. Not even the finest cleric could heal a wound of that magnitude.

The apprentices split into pairs, trying to deal with the new threat by using teamwork. Volinette cast a web around one of the trolls, but it easily broke free. The trolls were much stronger than the skeletons had been. Volinette concentrated on the cold snows of winter, shooting a cone of razor-sharp ice from her palms. The troll roared as shards of frozen water tore into its flesh.

Volinette felt something hit her foot and looked down to see the head of a troll rolling across the courtyard. She jumped back involuntarily, directly into the path of a swinging ax blade. Jaleel tackled her, dropping them to the ground just as the blade swung overhead.

Volinette flashed him an apologetic glance and then rolled from under him. She was on her feet again in an instant, ready to fight. The trolls had mostly been destroyed and Volinette waited nervously to see what new horror the test had in store for them.

Nothing happened. Volinette and the others looked around nervously, surprised not to be the target of a new onslaught. It seemed, at least for the moment, that they were out of immediate danger.

Across the courtyard, Volinette could see Jaleel kneeling by the young man who had met his unfortunate demise and the end of a troll’s ax. Most of the other apprentices were crouched by the edge of the dome, waiting like animals penned for slaughter.

As Volinette approached Jaleel, her feet sank into the sandstone, throwing her off balance. That wasn’t right. She struggled with the thought. How could she sink into stone?

A magical spring had welled up in the center of the courtyard, seeping through the stone. The apprentices watched warily, waiting for a water demon or a sea monster to spring out at them. Nothing emerged from the water, but the spring did not stop flowing. In fact, the flow increased, reaching the edge of the force dome and lapping against it. A sudden geyser of water erupted, flooding the dome with the force of a river. Volinette made herself focus on creating a bubble of breathable air in the midst of the swirling tempest.

The water quickly filled the dome, drowning the many apprentices that hadn’t protected themselves quickly enough. Volinette watched in horror as Jaleel’s body floated past her bubble, drifting serenely in an unseen current, eyes wide and staring.

As quickly as it had appeared, the water began to evaporate like a puddle in summer sunshine. Volinette floated gently to the ground, releasing her control over the bubble of air and allowing it to dissipate. She was cold, wet, and tired, but she knew she couldn’t give up. There were only seven apprentices left, which meant that the test was almost complete.

Many of the remaining candidates scurried around the dome, trying to cope with the terrors that had been inflicted on them. The ground began to tremble with the force of an earthquake. Huge rocks thrust up from the earth, moving under the accord of some unearthly power. Volinette stood, rooted in place by fear, as a huge stone elemental pulled itself out of the earth.

The creature stood sixty hands high, its limbs the size of huge tree trunks. The monster swayed uneasily for a moment before stumbling toward a couple of apprentices cowering at one edge of the dome.

The apprentices scattered. Two younger men paired up to throw lightning at the massive elemental, but succeeded only in chipping its stone skin. With an otherworldly shriek, the elemental slammed a fist into the boys, killing them instantly. The force of the impact was enough to throw the others to the ground.

There were five of them now, Volinette thought, scrambling to her feet. The test should be ending! She ran to the edge of the dome and peered out. Through the haze she could see the Masters rushing to and fro, tracing complicated symbols in the air. Muffled shouts were all that would penetrate the magical barrier.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way! The test was supposed to be over when there were five apprentices left. Volinette felt icy claws of panic tighten around her stomach. Could the Head Master have lied about the test?

The other apprentices had lost all composure. Across the courtyard, Volinette could see them pounding on the dome, unaware that the elemental was approaching.

Volinette gathered breath to shout a warning but a single clear note came instead. Sudden inspiration struck her. Perhaps her mother had been right; her music could be useful after all! The young girl opened her mouth, letting the high sweet notes of an old folk melody cut through the terrified screams of her companions. Volinette raised her arms, weaving streams of Taka to the rhythm of her song. The elemental stopped and turned toward the new sound. As Volinette continued to sing, she could feel the Taka gathering. It filled her, mind and soul, and spilled out of her, sparking and shimmering in the air around her.

Volinette felt her blood start to burn, the pleasure-and-pain combination that infused her body whenever she cast a particularly difficult spell.

Stretching her hands out before her, she released her control, letting the magic merge with her melody. A few premature sparks showered from her fingertips but she paid them no heed, concentrating instead on the song bursting from her lungs.

As she reached the final stanza of the song, there seemed to be a solid, pulsing shaft of energy linking her to the elemental. As the last note of her song faded away, Volinette collapsed, only vaguely aware that the elemental had exploded in a shower of stone fragments.

The force dome collapsed and the Masters rushed into the courtyard, calling for clerics as they reached the few apprentices who remained.

Volinette couldn’t move. She felt as if all the bones had been torn from her body and her head throbbed to the beat of an unseen drum.

Maera dropped to her knees beside her.

“Are you alright?” Maera asked urgently, her eyes blazing.

“I don’t know. Did I pass?”

One of the Masters standing beside them chuckled in spite of the circumstances.

“She’s going to be a handful, Maera.”

The Head Master looked at her with something akin to awe.

“My girl, you did much more than merely pass. The elemental wasn’t part of the test.”

“It wasn’t?” Volinette shuddered, unable to control the new fear that overwhelmed her.

“It wasn’t. The elemental was created by members of the Order of the Onyx Fist. They will do anything in their power to disrupt our Order. What you defeated was not a test, but a very real, very powerful magical monster.”

A chill ran up Volinette’s spine but she quickly squelched her fear. After all, she had been triumphant.

“Not only did you defeat the elemental,” Maera continued, “but you saved the other apprentices from a gruesome fate. The Masters have agreed that you need more instruction, but that your place is here, with other wizards. In keeping with such bravery in the face of danger, the Council has decided that you should advance immediately to become an Acolyte in the Order of the Ivory Flame.”

“An Acolyte?” Volinette squeaked, unable to believe her ringing ears.

“Yes, you’re a Grafter.”

“A what? I don’t understand.”

“You need rest,” Maera said. “There will be time for explanations tomorrow. For now, know that you have a rare gift. You can graft your control of the Taka into your other talents. It makes you very powerful, and very rare.”

“But how…”

“No,” Maera interrupted as a cleric approached them. “Now is the time for rest, girl. There will be plenty of time for you to start your lessons tomorrow.”

Maera stood and left Volinette to the ministrations of the healer.

Volinette lay in the courtyard, thinking. She knew the history records well enough to know that she was the youngest acolyte in the Order’s history. Perhaps now her mother could be proud. Not only had she gained entrance into the School of Sorcery, but also she had found a way to keep her passion for music alive. Her father could say many things about her, but not that she was a failure.

As they lifted her in a litter, Volinette drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that she would always have both her music and her magic.

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This entry was posted by Martin F. Hengst on Tuesday, May 5th, 2009 at 9:57 am and is filed under Fantasy, Short Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.