Volinette's Song (4 page)

There were eight o
f them now, Volinette thought, scrambling to her feet and doing a quick count of the candidates left in the courtyard. The test should be ending! She ran to the edge of the dome and peered out. Through the haze she could see the Masters running along the circumference of the barrier, tracing intricate symbols in the air. She could hear their shouts, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

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

Most of the others
had lost all composure. Baris stood behind the elemental, his eyes filled with blank confusion. Janessa was crouched by Tenika’s body, weeping. Across the field, Volinette could see a group of candidates pounding on the barrier with their fists, shouting, unaware that the elemental was approaching.

Volinette gathered breath to shout a warning
, but a single clear note came instead. Sudden inspiration struck her. An otherworldly voice whispered in her ear, like chimes in the wind. Maybe all her years training in music could be useful after all! She took a deep breath from the belly and let the song burst forth. The high sweet notes of an old folk melody cut through the terrified screams of the candidates. Volinette raised her arms, calling forth the power of the Quintessential Sphere, braiding streams of energy together and binding them to the rhythm of her song.

The elemental st
opped and turned toward the sound. As Volinette continued to sing, she could feel her power growing. It filled her, tendrils of ice in her mind and soul, and spilled out of her, sparking and shimmering in the air around her. It felt as if her blood was boiling, the pleasure-and-pain combination that washed over her 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.
The magic would come. It would heed the call of her song. She was sure of it, though she didn’t know why it seemed like such a certainty.

As she reached an ear-shattering crescendo
, there seemed to be a solid, pulsing shaft of energy linking her to the elemental. The last note of the song echoed across the courtyard. There was a flare as bright as the sun. The elemental exploded, showering Volinette and the rest of the candidates with pebbles and stone dust. Unable to remain on her feet, she collapsed, spent. Baris was with her in a moment, on his knees next to her.

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

Volinette
curled herself into a ball, unable to 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. Baris was saying something to her, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. It wasn’t until the Head Master appeared that she managed to almost be able think again.

Maera dropped to her knees beside her.

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

“I don't know.
” Her answer seemed tactless, but honest. Volinette didn’t have the strength for tact. Then, remembering that she was participating in the Trial, she added, “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 and smiled.

“My girl, you did much more than merely pass. The elemental wasn’t part of the test. Nor was the flood.”

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

“It wasn’t. Someone in the group, we don’t know who yet, manipulated the Trial with magic they couldn’t control. They obviously wanted a place in the Academy very badly. The elemental you defeated was not a test, but a very real, very powerful magical monster.”

A chill ran up Volinette’s spine but she managed to squelch her fear. Afte
r 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 mages. In keeping with such bravery in the face of danger, the
High 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’ll need to train with the rest of the apprentices for a time, but you’ll progress much faster than they will. You're a natural. 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
who approached them.

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 hav
e both music and magic.

Chapter
Four

Any dreams of a grand entrance into the Great Tower of High Magic after her Trial were dashed by the fact that she was carried, on a litter, to the infirmary by two orderlies who seemed totally uninterested in telling her anything about where they were going or what was going to happen to her when she got there. They repeatedly told her to relax and lie still, and that was all. Fortunately, the trip across the Academy grounds to the squat brick building didn’t take all that long.

The interior of the building wasn’t much more exciting than her attendants had been. Pale green walls were illuminated by bright oil lamps. Healers and clerics bustled to and fro, calling to each other in a language that was most certainly common, but favored terms Volinette had never heard before. However, they seemed both confident and proficient, so she resigned herself to their care, even if she felt as if all she needed was a really good nap.

The orderlies moved her from the litter onto a bed in a small cubicle. They pulled a curtain across the entrance of the small room and then disappeared beyond it, leaving her alone without any further explanation of what to do or what to expect. Volinette’s stomach sank. All in all, a rather banal entrance into the place that should have been an exciting start to the rest of her life.

She glanced around the small room. There was the bed on which she’d been placed, a simple wooden chair, a small table, a basin and pitcher of water, a lamp on the wall, and not much else. Beyond the curtain, she could hear other people speaking in hushed tones. They were quiet enough that Volinette couldn’t make out what they were saying, so eavesdropping, rude as it might be, was out as a means of entertaining herself while she was detained. Even though the cubicle was graced with a window that let light into the cramped space, it was too high up and beside the bed, which made it impossible for her to see what was beyond. Maybe if she stood on the chair…

With a bit of a struggle, Volinette managed to sit up, then realized there was a reason they’d carried her from the trial field. Her head swam and her vision went gray around the edges. Her gorge rose and she flopped back against the pillow before the nausea could get the better of her. She scrunched her eyes closed, fighting with all her will not to be sick. After a few moments, the queasiness passed and she was able to take a deep breath, which further calmed the raging storm in her stomach. She opened her eyes and yelped in surprise. There was a young woman standing in her cubicle.

She was dressed in a simple white linen tunic, with a sea foam green sash tied around her narrow waist. Her oval blue eyes flicked over Volinette from head to foot, and she felt as if she were being weighed and measured. When the woman in white brushed her straw yellow hair back from her forehead, she tucked it behind ears that rose to a gentle point.

“You’re…” Volinette managed, but then the capacity for speech departed and seemed unwilling to
return upon command. Instead, she sat there with her mouth working soundlessly.

“An elf, yes,” the woman replied, the corner of her mouth turned up in a little smile. “You may call me Qadira. I’ll be attending to you while you’re here in the infirmary. How are you feeling? Any pain? Any sickness?”

“I’m sorry,” Volinette stammered, her cheeks going red and the tips of her ears burning as if they were on fire. “That was tactless. I mean, I’m pleased to meet you.”

“It happens often, but my questions are more important. Any pain? Sickness?”

“I felt ill when I tried to sit up,” Volinette admitted with no small amount of hesitation. “I had to lay back down.”

Qadira nodded.

“I should think so, young Acolyte. You’ve been through quite an ordeal today, but we’ll see you through the worst of it.”

A commotion from outside the cubicle’s curtain drew Qadira’s attention and she raised a finger, indicating that Volinette should wait. As if she had anything better to do. Even straining, Volinette couldn’t make out the hushed argument that was being conducted just beyond her door. She clenched her fists and savaged the bed sheet between her fingers. She was close to everything but couldn’t understand anything. It was infuriating.

Qadira reappeared, smoothing the lay of her tunic with long fingers. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, as if she were trying to regain her composure. Volinette raised an eyebrow, but the elf shook her head. The elven woman’s eyes, a bright shade of amethyst, sparkled with anger, but not directed at Volinette.

“Nothing for you to worry about,
Acolyte. What happens beyond that curtain is my problem, not yours.”

When Qadira approached the bed, she seemed to glide instead of walk. It was almost as if she’d floated from the doorway to where Volinette lay. She laid a cool hand on Volinette’s forehead.

“Ow!” Volinette exclaimed. She jerked away from the touch as pain lanced through her temples. 

“I’m sorry,” Qadira said, inclining her head in apology. “Link shock is always worse when you’ve recently overextended your abilities. Even so, it needed to be done, but it’s over now. You can relax.”

“Link shock?”

“Haven’t you ever touched another mage and felt a tingle or burning in your fingertips?”

Volinette thought back to the first time she’d met Baris. Clasping his hand in greeting had sent a tingle running up her arm, but she’d paid no attention to it at the time. Then there was the touch of Master Casto and later, Janessa. Even so, it was certainly nothing like what she’d felt when Qadira had touched her forehead.

“Yes,” the girl admitted slowly. “But I didn’t know what it was.”

“That’s link shock. It’s the power of the Quintessential Sphere jumping between two vessels.”

Volinette blushed again. There was a great deal she needed to learn before she could fulfill her dream of becoming a Master. Still, Maera had made her an
Acolyte just based on the outcome of the Trial of Admission. Surely that meant something, that she had something unique about her.

Qadira reached up and turned down the wick on the lamp, lowering the light in the small room to just that which came in through the high window.

“You need to rest. I’ll be back soon with something to eat.”

She’d pushed out through the curtain before Volinette could protest. The thought of eating anything made her stomach roil in a way that reminded her of the near sickness she’d just recently overcome. Determined not to let it get the best of her, Volinette settled back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she w
ere able to get a little nap in, she’d feel better by the time the cleric returned.

Volinette was just about to drift off to sleep when the rustle of the curtain announced a visitor.

“Forget something?” she asked, without opening her eyes. Qadira seemed as if she’d be able to take a joke, with her quick smile and lively eyes. Anything to help pass the time would make Volinette happy.

“I’ll never forget you, or what you’ve done. She’s dead and it’s all your fault. Maera may think you’re something special, but I think you’re just a murdering piece of filth
, and I’ll make sure you pay.”

Volinette’s eyes snapped open and she saw Janessa standing at the foot of the bed. Her face was flushed, her eyes squeezed into narrow slits that never wavered from Volinette’s gaze. Janessa’s arms were straight down to her sides, her hands balled in fists so tight that it was easy to see the whiteness of the knuckles where the skin was drawn taut across them. Her hair was free of its topknot, dirty and tangled. The cut sapphires of
her eyes were dark now, deep blue shards of ice that bore into Volinette.

“I…I mean,” Volinette sta
mmered. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t—”

“You could have saved her,” Janessa spat, her lips curled in a snarl. “You could have, but you didn’t. You saved yourself
, and now Tenika is dead!”

Janessa’s voice had risen from a threatening whisper to a harsh cry that seemed to explode from her chest like a startled crow. Volinette pressed herself backward into the pillows. Janessa stepped around the foot of the bed, approaching Volinette with malice glittering in her icy blue eyes. Volinette tried to scream but all that came out was a raspy squawk. Janessa was almost on top of her when the curtain was yanked back and a figure appeared in the opening.

Fulgent Casto stood in the doorway, his black eyes burning with an intensity Volinette could feel from several feet away. His mousy appearance had been transformed by the palpable power that was oozing off him in waves. The Quintessentialist now looked less like a mouse and more like a mean street rat out for blood. His bushy eyebrows were drawn together over his eyes, which darted back and forth between Janessa and Volinette. In that moment, Volinette was sure that the mage hadn’t missed a single detail in the scene that was unraveling before him.

“Apprentice Janessa,” he said, his voice sharp. “You were told not to leave your cubicle. You’ll return there at once.”

The girl whirled on him, her hair standing out from her head like an aura. Her eyes had taken on an intensity that matched his. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a malevolent hiss. Power sprang up around her, pushing back at the force that had entered the room with Fulgent.

“Who are you to tell me what to do, Fulgent? Do you know who I am? Who my parents are?”

Janessa raised her hand as if to strike the mage, and there was a flash of crimson light so bright that Volinette had to shield her eyes with her hands. She heard Janessa’s cry of pain and a loud clatter as the girl was thrown into the stand that held the pitcher and basin. The pitcher rocked free and crashed to the floor, shattering in a hundred pieces and spraying water everywhere.

When Volinette dared look again, Fulgent was standing over the fallen apprentice, his long forefinger outstretched and pointed in her face.

“I do, indeed, know who you are, Apprentice. Your parents would have done well to raise you knowing better than to raise your hand to an elder. I believe I’ve filled the gap in their education. However, if you’re particularly stubborn, or stupid, I will be happy to provide another demonstration if necessary.”

“No, thank you,” Janessa grunted, scrambling to her feet. She shot a last dagger-laden look at Volinette before turning toward the open curtain. “If you’ll excuse me,
Master
Casto.”

The simpering familiarity in Janessa’s tone turned what should have been an honorable title into something just shy of an insult. She slid sideways past the
Quintessentialist and disappeared down the corridor beyond. Before Volinette could say anything, Qadira appeared with a laden dinner tray.

“And what happened here?” Qadira asked. With one hand, she slid the tray across Volinette’s legs. With the other, she tucked another pillow down behind her, propping her up sufficiently to eat.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, Qadira.” Fulgent waved a hand and the pieces of the pitcher leapt off the floor and reassembled themselves. With a flick of his wrist, he settled the restored vessel in the basin and brushed his palms against his robes. He flicked a hand at the scowl Qadira was giving him. “Don’t start with me, Elf. You do magic your way, I’ll do it mine.”

“A mage’s power isn’t to be used in place of honest labor,” Qadira retorted.

“Yes,” Fulgent agreed. “And I remember teaching you that when you were yet a whelp, so in this case, listen to your old teacher when I say that I was just sparing someone a nasty cut on one of those shards.”

Fulgent winked at Volinette and indicated the floor with an outstretched finger.

“That water will need to be cleaned up before someone slips. I’m sure you don’t need a mage’s power to pick up a mop.”

“Get out,” Qadira snapped. “Out. Out. Out! I have a patient to attend to.”

“Then perhaps you should see to it.”

With another wink at Volinette, Fulgent slipped from the cubicle and slid the curtain across the door. Qadira disappeared and returned a moment later with a mop, which she used to clean up the spill while muttering under her breath in a light, lilting language that Volinette couldn’t understand.

Instead, she focused on the meal the cleric had brought her. There was a bowl of rich brown broth, a hunk of crusty bread, and a cup of water. Even that meager repast seemed to be too much. Volinette lifted the bread from the tray, turning it over in her hands as if she were seeing bread for the first time.

“Tsk,” Qadira said with a sigh. “You’re supposed to eat it, not play with it.”

Volinette glanced over at the elf who was leaning on the mop. Qadira’s eyes were bright, but Volinette couldn’t figure out if it was in amusement or annoyance. Perhaps both. Determined not to make another enemy in the Academy, Volinette dipped the bread into the rich broth and took a bite.

Much to her amazement, her stomach not only accepted the offering, but demanded more. For having felt so sick so recently, Volinette was surprised that her hunger had returned with such force. It wasn’t long before she’d finished the meal that Qadira had brought her, right down to draining the last few drops from the mug of water.

The cleric, who had gone to attend to other charges while Volinette ate, returned with a promptness that made her wonder if Qadira wasn’t using magic to attend to her.