Red Madrassa: Algardis #1 (6 page)

T
he day dawned bright and early‌—‌far too early. Sidimo, whose internal clock was always correct, was still snuggled under the covers, ruing the day he’d initiated a friendship bond with Allorna. The irritating noises echoing in the small room didn’t help. Maride’s snores ripped down from the bunk bed above. Birds chirped outside the window. He normally wasn’t a morning person, today even more so. Deathkeepers usually kept late hours. Not many people would risk being seen with one in the light of day, even a mere trainee.

He rolled over and sat up, looking around at his clean but boring surroundings. The whole length of the room could be traversed from door to window in three steps. Their bunk beds took up the entire right wall. A desk and chair sat facing the left wall.

Sighing, he got out of bed, climbed up the bunk ladder to shake Maride awake, and then dropped down to the floor. “Wake up,” he said loudly. “The day is upon us!”

A muffled grunt was Maride’s only reply.

Just then, a knock sounded on the wooden door. Grumbling, Sidimo stumbled to the door to open it.

Allorna stood in the doorway with a cloth napkin in hand, looking annoyingly chipper. As Sidimo stepped back to let her in, Maride poked his head out of his nest of covers, nose first. “Do I smell meat?” he asked hopefully.

In answer, she unwrapped her napkin, upon which rested three golden beef patties. By then, Sidimo had moved into the corner with their knapsacks, where he shrugged his tunic on over his bare chest. Maride, still clad in yesterday’s clothes, scooted over to the bearer of his breakfast with a smile on his face.

“Well,” she said quietly, “Today’s the day.”

Maride and Sidimo just looked at her, and she grimaced. Then they all turned and headed out the door. They had ten minutes to get to the atrium where their guide would meet them for the test.

On the other side of the Madrassa, Vedaris and Sitara were getting dressed for their own tests.

The healers had reapplied salve to Sitara’s burn, determined that she should rest for at least another hour; and now she sat in a wooden wheelchair, pushed by a young male student maintaining a steady stream of one-sided conversation as they exited the healing facilities together. All these Madrassans talked too much, it seemed. Neither Sitara nor Vedaris contributed much to his ramblings; their thoughts were over-filled with the previous day’s events.

They found three youths, two male and one female, already waiting in the atrium. All three wore what looked like stained travel clothes…‌not that Sitara or Vedaris were clothed any better. The two groups glanced at each other and then away, as if the checkered white-and-black marble rolling beneath the wheels of Sitara’s chair was the most fascinating design in the world.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and sneaked side glances, an older man dressed in ornate formal robes entered. He strode to the center of the chamber, and gestured for the five young adults to gather round.

“I am Masadi,” he said gravely. “Some of you have met me before. For those who have not, I am the Headmaster of the Healing Hall. You may address me as Healer Masadi.” He looked at each of them in turn. “I welcome you all to the halls of the Madrassa‌—‌an academy intended not merely for learning the skills of a practicum, but also a practitioner’s academy, where those far advanced in their fields come to strengthen their skills, test their magic, and further the knowledge of the various Schools. This morning you five will face the admissions test for entrance.”

Vedaris twitched when Masadi caught his eye, thinking,
Why’s he looking at
me
?

“I don’t have to tell you that hundreds of students of all backgrounds come to these halls hoping for a place among the Schools,” Masadi continued. “We are very fortunate in the aptitude and quality of our students, and hope they take the knowledge and responsibility of what they’ve learned here seriously.”

His eyes wandered over each of the candidates to emphasize his point.
Again with the looking at me!
Vedaris exclaimed in his head.
And what’s
her
problem
? This time he cast a glance at the female stranger, who stood ramrod straight in front of Masadi‌—‌almost as if she were at attention.

“Sir,” Sitara said with a polite wave of her hand. “Could you perhaps explain a little more about the Schools themselves?”

“Ah yes, excellent question. Miss Sitara, isn’t it?”

Sitara nodded as she slowly twisted her loose braid on her shoulder.

Masadi began in a pedantic tone, “There are eight Schools here at the Madrassa. Four correspond to the natural elements: Air, Fire, Earth, and Water. Within the four elemental Schools, there are many sub-specialties and even cross-specialties. For instance, we have initiates in the School of Earth who focus on Metallurgy, and thus take classes in the School of Fire as well.

“In addition to the four elemental schools, there are the Schools of Healing, Politics, Research, and the Unknown. Again, all have sub-specialties, with the School of Research bearing the distinction of having two primary tracks‌—‌Magical Research and Dormant Research. Should you pass the entrance exam and the Probate qualifying exams in your second year, you will be able to declare a sub-specialty in your School.

“As I have said, I have the honor of serving as the Headmaster of the Healing School; and in the course of this test you will meet some of the other Headmasters, as well as several of the Initiates who teach the classes. Nothing further about the Schools or the academy will be discussed until you pass your tests.” Nodding pleasantly, Masadi commanded, “Now please follow me.”

He turned around and walked through the tall glass doors leading to the inner courtyard, the five young people following obediently.

They crossed the courtyard to a larger domed room, where they found seven representatives waiting for them, one for each of the other Schools. Each of the seven stood in front of a glowing pool of light rippling on the floor: horizontal portalways, apparently.

Masadi walked forward, to stand in front of the portalway to the left of the Fire Headmaster, who wore an orange ceramic badge resembling a flame on his breast. Off to the side, a figure cloaked in shadow‌—‌heretofore unnoticed‌—‌gestured the five young people forward. “Each of you must confront the test alone,” a soft voice hissed. “Enter the first empty portalway you come to.”

They stepped forward in unison, Maride clutching a pagan symbol to his chest and Sidimo mouthing a silent prayer.

At first, there was darkness.

As Allorna looked up, the very air began to glow with waves of rippling fire. Soon, it flickered all around her.

The colors flashed in the corners of her eyes; first purple, then she would turn and it would be red; yellow would appear mid-flow; and orange would crackle along the seams. The flame cycled repeatedly through the visible spectrum, sometimes in sequence, more often randomly. The only constant was the milky portal below her feet.

The waves were pretty for a while; but then the room began to grow warmer, and eventually, unbearably hot. The air began to shimmer and ripple with the compacted heat.

She could barely breathe. Her vision began to blur; in seconds, she could see nothing but intertwining ribbons of flame, throbbing with every color of the rainbow and beyond. She turned and turned, hoping to see the room she’d entered by…‌but nothing was visible through the brilliant curtain.

Licks of heat tore along her arms. Her hair felt like it might melt from her skull. Sweat poured down her body. “Please!” she screamed, “Let me out! Release me!” Then, “I demand it,” she insisted, “In the name of the Emperor!” Her last shout ended in a cough as she doubled over to escape the searing flames.

She stumbled off the portalway, but found no surcease, saw no clear ground. The flagstones of the chamber were gone, leaving nothing but a living flame; and as her desperation grew, the flames grew as well. She would perish in this godsforsaken hellhole!

She fell, and her breathing became labored and deep as she lay curled on the floor, which she could feel but still not see. Her fists clenched into her stomach, Allorna began the breathing exercise taught to all gardis recruits, the one that helped in water rescues and long thief chases.

She sucked the air between her teeth, trying to cool it down before it reached her throat.
Breathe in, breathe out,
she chanted in her head.
It’s only an illusion, a dream!

Then she felt it: a sensation as if the very air were throbbing, keeping time with her breaths. She began to take longer breaths, inhaling and exhaling while monitoring the pulse of the heat along her skin. Each time she exhaled, she felt calmer‌—‌and the heat lessened. She rose from her protective stance and crouched, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

When she looked up, a man stood near her: a tall bearded Human, handsome, with fine, muscular arms. He gestured for Allorna to come forward. As she approached, he said, “Know that the Initiate or Headmaster you test with today will not necessarily represent the School that you may be chosen to attend. I am Locus, Headmaster of the School of Fire. Today, I will test you.”

“
What?!
” she cried, dumbfounded. “If that wasn’t the test, then pray tell exactly what I just endured!”

“You may call it the pre-test,” said Locus, “to ensure that you even have magical abilities in the first place. The breathing exercise can be performed by most young children to calm latent magical abilities.”

With a cheeky grin he continued, “Now the
real
fun begins.”

The frown on Allorna’s face spelled trouble of another sort.

Maride’s trial by fire was of a different sort.

As he stepped through the portal, he was met with the vision of a long stone corridor, stretching into the distance with no end in sight. As he looked around, seeing nothing but unbroken stone, noises began to echo all around him‌—‌horrible noises, the stuff of nightmares. He tried not to cower in fear.

He remembered from his long stretches in the library a book that spoke of the Citadel’s test within a test. That’s all this was, he told himself firmly, and he had to pass it. If he didn’t gain admittance, he’d have to return to the city, and certain death.

He began to step forward, shaking, but knowing he had no other choice.

The noises began to become clearer: the howls of bloodwolves. The whisper of secrets. The clang of swords. And then he heard a voice he’d never thought to hear again: the gentle voice of his betrothed. Treasonous secrets slithered from his lips.

“No!” shouted Maride, “I had no part in this! It wasn’t me!”

But the nightmares kept coming. Suddenly, the Emperor’s inquisitor appeared before him, leaning in a doorframe. The sounds of her teeth crunching into a crisp apple rang in his ears. The smile that curled her lips then was more frightening than any man’s.

He turned. He ran. But this time, unlike his usual daylight attempts to wall off his terror with laughter, mockery, and jest, the horror would not be denied. The feverish thoughts that gripped him wouldn’t let him be. He threw back his head suddenly and screamed a scream of primal rage, emitted by a body that some might say was too fragile to bear its secrets.

As the rage poured from his throat, his magic released. He began to push: not at the voices but at the secrets, in an instinctive attempt to end the torment. He shoved them firmly toward a tiny cell in the far corner of his mind, to lock them away with thought and key. As he pushed, his mind grew lighter, his thoughts clearer. The very air in the room brightened, and the walls of the corridor fell away.

A handclap sounded behind him. As he turned around to face the sound, he threw up a hand to shield himself from the light of day.

A woman stood facing him, still clapping laconically. With blond hair streaming down her back, hoop earrings, and a long flowing blue skirt, she looked the very opposite of the inquisitor he had just faced. She said, “Hello, Maride. My name is Arias, and I am the Headmistress of the School of Air.”

“How apt,” he snarled.

“Indeed. That was very impressive,” she continued. “It takes a strong person to face his living fears. This was a test not only to ascertain your magical abilities, but also whether or not you could harness those fears. After all, limitations of the mind often result in limitations of the magic.” She began pacing before him, beringed hands clasped behind her back. “As a student of the School of Research, you will have to assess what is real and what is illusionary, before moving forward to practice and experiment.”

Research? Not what he had expected, but one accepted what the gods provided. Maride wetted his lips and unconsciously relaxed his pose. “I understand,” he said. “I’m ready to move forward.”

“Excellent,” she said as she stopped in front of him, and smiled an odd smile.

Vedaris stepped out of the portalway into a fighting dojo.

He frowned as he looked around. Wooden walls encompassed a floor spread with training mats and not much else. Straight ahead of him stood a tall man of fearsome aspect and simple fighting robes, with skin as blue-black as smoke-oil.

With a smirk, Vedaris stepped forward. This peacock didn’t scare him. He’d faced down drug lords and would-be kings of the city playground. If it was a test of fighting skills this man wanted, then that’s what he’d get.

When he approached within five paces of the black man, without a word his opponent slid into a classic fighting stance‌—‌then raised one palm and gestured for Vedaris to bring it on.

Vedaris needed no further invitation. Given the speed and strength typical of his kind, he knew could wipe the floor with this Human in seconds.

He was in for a surprise. The moment he began sparring with the man, he could tell that the other was enormously talented. Not only did the man seem to know the dancing fighting styles of the Summer Isles, but also the combat play of the Knights of Sahelia.

Intriguing. Vedaris began to wonder what he had gotten into. Panting with exertion, he continued to press for position against his opponent, but gained no ground.