First Year (The Black Mage #1)

Try as I might, I had no magic left. The barley sack would not budge. The prince’s group was still going strong, but the rest of the class was faltering. Badly.

“You chose my faction because you wanted to be pushed, not coddled! Don’t tell me you have used up your magical reserve. No one has unless they are face-down on the ground without a spasm left. The only way you will build up your force is if you challenge yourself. Easy will never be good enough.” Master Narhari bent down to meet the darting eyes of a nervous boy to my right. “Now!”

The boy fumbled, and we all tried to summon enough magic to make the sacks move. Nothing.

“Harder!” the training master shouted.

I tried again, visualizing the force I needed to cast, and launched the proj ection with all my might.

“You are fighting for your life. Is this all you can give me?”

My arms were shaking badly and I was light-headed. But I held on, feeling as if I were slipping away in the process.

Several bags, including my own, shuddered and tipped back. A girl to my right fainted.

Straining, I ignored the burning sensation in my lungs and carried on, willing the sack to complete its fall to the ground. It shuddered again, and I threw the mental image with every ounce of energy my body could hold.

I felt myself fall as the bag dropped back, and a second later I too hit the ground. My eyes shut involuntarily, and I was dead to the world until someone splashed cold water on my face.

Sputtering, I sat up while Ella gripped my arm, holding me in place. The moment I tried to stand, my knees gave out, and an unpleasant sensation hit my stomach. Gasping, I quickly turned my head and threw up the contents of my lunch.

Similar sounds were happening all around me, and I realized that there were at least ten others on the ground, retching away. Looking up at my friend, I could see how clammy Ella’s skin had become, and there were dark lines under her eyes. Her hands shook as they held onto my shoulder.

“Now you see what it is to push yourself,” Master Narhari told our class somberly. “I expect each of you to reach this hard every time. If you have a problem with my approach, then you should resign immediately as you will not last long in my faction.”

Fifteen minutes later we were dismissed. Ella and I could barely stand, and it was all we could do to hold onto our staffs as we walked down the long training hill for our evening meal.

Between the increased workload of Eloise and Isaac, the new weapons drills with Piers, and practices with Narhari, we were quickly acclimating to a ritual of misery and little else. After the first month of Combat it became a daily joke between us that we would “last the year or die trying.”

Alex didn’t seem to be faring any better, either. According to my twin, Master Cedric had been holding out on us, and now, despite his old age, had turned his two hours of healing into the “stuff dreamt only in nightmares.”

“He tried to have us animate a corpse the other day,” James piped up, who was also in Restoration with Alex. “Never seen anything more disturbing in my life.”

“How is Alchemy going, Ruth?” I turned my attention to our other friend.

Ruth snorted. “Terrible.”

I could barely see the girl. She was buried beneath a stack of manuscripts that took up the entire space in front of her.

“It can’t be worse than Master Cedric,” Alex said quickly.

Ruth shoved the pile of books and parchment across the table. “You try carrying every herb lore manuscript known to man and then recite it for me.”

My twin laughed. ” You have Master Ascillia. She used to be one of us a couple years ago.”

Ruth rolled her eyes elaborately. “It just means she has more to prove. You know Cedric is an old softy. You’re just afraid to admit you’re beat.”

“You can trade stitching up animal carcasses with me anytime, sweetling,” he replied flirtatiously.

Ruth made a face and went back to reading her books while Ella and I quizzed Jordan and Clayton about their own experiences in Combat. We never had an opportunity to catch up in class, so we spent most of our meals critiquing each other’s performance.

It wasn’t always the easiest conversation, to have someone else point out your flaws, but it was something I had decided was necessary after my run in with Darren weeks back.

Better to hear truth, he’d said, than false flattery. I couldn’t believe I was actually following the hypocrite’s advice, but it had made sense and stuck with me long after.