First Year (The Black Mage #1)

“That said,” Narhari noted, “I want each of you to remember today as the day you gained confidence in yourself. I know how hard all of you have been training, and the next two hours should be the culmination of your efforts.”

I glanced at Ella, and she at I. We knew who our partner would be. We had sparred so many times in class, as well as after. We knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses almost as well as we knew our own. Between the two of us, we could easily impress the masters without embarrassing ourselves.

Several other students seemed to be thinking the same thing. First-years began to pair up almost instinctively.

“Children, children,” Sir Piers chuckled loudly, stepping away from his post to stand closer to Narhari. “You are sadly mistaken if you think I will let you pick the same person you have been practicing with all these months.”

My stomach dropped.

“I believe Master Narhari and I have a better understanding of your skill set than your pea-sized brains acknowledge. The two of us will choose the one who is…shall we say, best-suited for your abilities.” His words made my skin crawl, and I was even more wary from the way his eyes had lit up mischievously during the phrase “best-suited.” Something told me Piers had been looking forward to today for far too long.

As the sets played out, one-by-one, I came to understood exactly why. There were only a couple of us left by the time my name was called, but I already knew exactly who my opponent would be.

Piers had not forgotten that day with the staffs.

“Priscilla.”

I took a large swallow as the raven-haired beauty took her place opposite mine.

“Begin.”

The two of us circled one another, slowly.

Priscilla looked like a wolf honing in on a kill. She smiled, white teeth flashing, and laughed throatily as I stumbled, desperately searching for an opening.

Her muscles gave away nothing, and since we had not been provided any weapons, I had no idea how she planned to initiate her assault.

“You can always forfeit now,” the girl said, voice carrying across to our entire audience. “Save yourself the humiliation.”

I ground my teeth but said nothing. The only way I would win this match was if Priscilla became too confident and slipped up. My magic was no match for her own. I’d seen her often enough in class to know that it would be a mistake to engage her directly. Maybe someday I would be able to beat her outright, but not today.

“Go ahead. Play the coward,” she taunted. “I have no problem leading the attack.”

Priscilla raised her hand. I recognized the move from training right away. She’d always been a fan of extravagant gestures.

Immediately I cast out a shield, clutching its arm holds with all the strength I could muster.

The air whistled loudly, and her magic slammed my defense, splitting the shield and knocking me to the ground in the same breath. I’d underestimated the force she would use. None of us had ever practiced being at the receiving end of that drill.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, just in time to spot a flying dagger headed for my face. I let myself fall to the ground, hands thrown across my face instinctively. A searing pain shot across my forearm. Warm blood coated my wrists and hair, but I was lucky all the same. The cut had missed any important veins.

Wincing, I pulled myself back up, throwing a crowd of flames at my enemy’s feet.

Priscilla cried out as the fire touched her skin, but a second later all that remained was a poof of smoke, an outpouring of sand had drenched what remained of my attack.

“Is that it?” the girl jeered. “Two seconds of flame? How about some lightening?”

Lightening? We hadn’t learned weather attacks yet. Let alone the deadliest of them all. That type of magic was reserved for the apprenticeship, not first-years. We weren’t supposed to know such complicated castings. Panicked, I glanced up at the sky, only to get the air knocked out of my chest as I was sent sprawling back against the grass.

Priscilla was laughing as I doubled-over, unable to get back up.

“Really didn’t think you’d fall for that one,” she giggled.

I spat, blood and saliva hitting the ground as I tried to stand once more. Again, the pain sent me reeling at the core.

She could have just finished me off then, but I could tell Priscilla wanted to continue to drag out my degradation.

“You have no place here,” she said lazily, circling around as she spoke. “Trying,” she added, looking directly at Sir Piers, “is not good enough. The ones that need to learn are the ones I am least worried about—”

Priscilla’s speech was cut short as she was sent flying against the fence. Arms flailing out widely in front of her, she emitted a loud shriek as she hit the wood.

As she fell, I rose up, painfully, using a wooden pole I’d conjured for support.

“You little—”