Hope (10 page)

After she washed up and donned her uniform, she laced up her boots just in time for Hal’s usual knock on the door to go to breakfast in the meal room. "Enter."

Hal opened the door with a tired expression on his face. "I’m so exhausted. I never knew how tiring casting spells could be. You look awful, by the way. I just thought you should know." He didn’t even crack a smile.

"You really know how to cheer me up, Hal." She said in a sarcastic tone and surprised him with a smile.

"Wow, you must have had a good sex dream or something. You don’t normally smile until after lunch." He frowned, but his eyes smiled and let her know his sense of humor overcame his exhaustion. "Come on. Let’s go eat so we have plenty of energy for Sir Lanclor to beat us with the flat of his sword." She strapped on her sword and closed the door behind them.

As they gathered their breakfast onto their wooden breakfast plates, they looked for a place to sit in the crowded Meal Room. The Meal Room resembled a huge cafeteria, but with comfortable chairs and nice wooden tables. They sat at an empty table in the back of the room and began to eat warm bread and fresh fruit, the customary breakfast of this world.

They ate in silence, their norm this early in the morning. Kathryn generally tuned out the hum of Av’lorish while she ate, but now she found she couldn’t ignore it. She knew it was Av’lorish, but she could understand it as if it was English, not even needing to translate it into English in her mind before she could understand it. She held her bread before her mouth and just listened to the conversations going on around them.

"Is something wrong, Kate?" Hal sounded concerned as he looked at her in confusion.

"Um, I’ll talk to you about it later, not here."

"Okay, whatever you want." He shrugged it off and they finished their breakfast.

For the next few hours she listened to Rielle translate all of Sir Lanclor’s Av’lorish for her. In a sense, she had to listen to every conversation twice. She found that Rielle translated most of the conversations, but chose to ignore anyone whom insulted them in some way. Kathryn heard some of the candidates, none of whom she helped train last night, make a comment about her sword work.

"She can’t use a sword very well and she never volunteers for a spell demonstration. It’ll be a miracle if she makes it into the Knighthood," one of them said with a sneer.

Another answered, "If she does make it, it’ll probably be on her back." The others sniggered to this and quieted as Sir Lanclor glanced their way. He shook his head and looked her way. He saw her angry stare and clenched fists directed at the other candidates and tilted his head, as if he had pieced together her understanding of their words.

The rest of the morning, her anger transferred to her sword while she drilled with Hal. Hal always held back to keep the pace with her. Her anger increased her speed and power, but she could feel what little energy she had left ebbing away.

"Are you okay?" he asked in between bouts. "You seem agitated."

"I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind." She reined in her anger and finished the rest of the training without incident. On her back indeed.

Borith crouched in the dark passage and wondered if he should kill them. The flickering torchlight glinted off the armored guards, giving them the appearance of metal statues. The pair stood in the small antechamber before the main entrance of the Council’s treasure room. Their eyes were always moving, their hands upon the pommels of their swords. He wasn’t worried about them.

He knew he could deal with the mercenaries. One quick spell would get rid of them. No, he was far more worried about the spells protecting the treasure. The Council wouldn’t just rely upon the muscle of the mercenaries. The mercenaries’ role was to intimidate ordinary thieves and he was far from ordinary.

Rising to his feet, he ended the waiting game. "Mel’ati E’athos!"

The guards swung their heads in his direction, but slumped to the ground as an unseen force struck them. Stepping into the antechamber, his black silk outfit absorbed the light from the torches. The stumps of the severed wings protruding from his back gave him the appearance of a disfigured angel. His brown eyes dismissed the unconscious mercenaries.

He stepped around the bodies and stood before a long darkened hall. "Canto’o Ay’e!" His new spell probed for magical shields or other dangers as he proceeded. The hall turned up ahead, and he saw a ruddy light bouncing off the far wall where it angled into the unseen room. The light glowed blue as his probing spell identified a threat and dissipated.

Unsheathing his dagger, he slashed at the line of light and the tunnel erupted in flames. The searing heat drove him to his knees and he dropped the dagger, shielded his face with his arms and curled into a tight ball. The inferno subsided and the passage was again dark.

No light showed on the wall from the unseen room. Borith loosened his body and sat up, feeling for damage. His left palm burned, but he couldn’t see the extent of the injury. Knowing the danger might not yet be over, he pulled off one of his leather boots. Dragging himself from the corner, he then heaved his boot ahead. He heard it thump to the ground. Nothing happened.

He crawled toward the turn and felt around the dirt floor until he found his boot. His palm burned as he pulled it on. Sighing, he continued his search and brushed the hilt of his dagger as the grit of the floor ground into his skin. He gripped it, bringing it around in front of him. "Canto’o Ay’e!" He inched along the passageway behind his new probing spell and felt the passageway open, a spell triggering with his presence.

The spell lit the room with a dull white glow. Millions of gold coins and amulets covered the floor of the chamber, only allowing a narrow and winding path ahead. He felt the power emanating from some of the amulets. The Presence in some of them screamed for release into the world.

"Corrupt bastards."

According to the histories, the Knighthood destroyed all artifacts with a Presence, or a True Soul, centuries ago. These amulets with Presence contained the actual souls, not just the memories, of long-dead people. Unlike the Soulbearers of the Knighthood who only contained the memories of ancient warriors, anyone who chose to wear one of these amulets would be taken over by the soul of the person trapped within.

He cringed when he thought about some unseen force controlling his body. They would know his every memory, his every thought. They would control his body, maybe even forcing him to kill those he loved. It reminded him of the Manipulation spell and he almost laughed aloud. He didn’t hesitate to use that spell at all. Tossing away his brief fear, he concentrated on the mission.

The gold coins covering the path clanged as his brown leather boots sent them rolling. The Order’s idea to just walk right into the Chamber and take the Orb was ludicrous, but his master had volunteered him to be the thief. His master either had great faith in his abilities or wished to be rid of him.

The Chamber stretched on for a few hundred feet. When he reached the end, he held his breath. The Orb stood before him, floating above a raised dais. Black and spherical in shape, it spun as if someone had thrown a ball and willed it to spin in one place. He sensed an odd spell. Any casual observer would have dismissed the spell as the one causing it to spin, but he was far from casual. Something just wasn’t right.

He extended his dagger toward the spinning sphere. It passed through the Orb and he stood there in astonishment. Reaching out with his left hand, it passed through as well. An illusion. Impossible! The Order was going to love this. They had searched for the Orb for almost a century. Someone had beaten them to it. It would have been hilarious if he hadn’t based the rest of his entire existence on obtaining the Orb and returning to Earth. He had to find out who had it.

He ran his hands through his black hair in frustration. Sighing, he removed the canvas sack from his belt and knelt among the wealth. The gold coins quickly filled the sack and he shouldered the burden, leaving his sword arm free. He retraced his steps and disappeared into the dark catacombs. The mercenaries’ painful groans echoed behind him. Their headaches would be the least of their problems when the Council found out they had failed. Borith shook his head. Maybe it would have been kinder if he’d killed them.

Hal and Kathryn sat in the Common room and listened to the Av’lorish conversations going on around them.

"Do you think this is right, Hal? Learning the language through a spell, I mean. I feel like a cheater." She looked down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye.

"We can’t survive on this world and still have a chance of learning enough to return home if we don’t even speak the common language. If you want to, we can tell one of the instructors or we can just wait long enough so it appears we’ve learned the language on our own. I think the latter would be the best. I don’t think it matters anyway. They told us we should learn the language, but they didn’t even offer us a teacher. We used our own method."

Most of the conversations around them involved the upcoming Assessments. Next week, they would find out if they made it into the Knighthood. She wasn’t great with a sword, but she could perform all sword and formation drills without a problem. Sir Lanclor had already declared their entire group as passing the weapons portion of the Assessment. Now, they only needed to demonstrate their magical ability.

They had a few days to relax before the beginning of the Assessment. The Magical Assessment spanned three days at the end of the week. The first day consisted of a written assessment of their knowledge of the ten spells, including the pronunciation, purpose and any precautions for each spell. Half of the group would perform the individual demonstration of each spell in front of the entire group, one at a time. She would join her study group and a few others to demonstrate their knowledge on the last day of the Assessment.

The next few days passed quickly as everyone hurried to prepare for the Assessments like students cramming for a final exam. Their group was calm, while the tempers flared for the rest of the candidates whom had trouble performing the spells. Kathryn offered to help some of them, but the majority refused any help from an Earthling. Those who welcomed her help ended up joining the study group—now up to 15—and progressed rapidly toward their goal.

The first round of magical demonstrations only welcomed seven new knights out of 25. Kathryn had the honor of presenting first the next day. Assessor Jakara crossed his arms and sat among several other knights at a long table facing an upraised platform. The rest of the Assessors sat in silence awaiting the arrival of all of the candidates. The doors of the room closed with the last of the candidates taking their seats.

Assessor Jakara rose from his seat and the room quieted. "The first candidate for this Assessment is Lady Kathryn, originally from Earth. We’re here to witness her demonstration of the ten spells required for entry into the Knighthood. Lady Kathryn, I’m sure you know the order of the spells, so please begin when you’re ready." He took his seat. She expected him to scowl at her, but his face remained neutral.

Standing in front of everyone, she no longer felt nervous. She looked all of the Assessors in the eye and set her jaw, preparing to actually speak the spells and not just think them when performing this demonstration. All of the Assessors sat up straight in their chairs as she completed her flawless demonstration. She stood with her arms by her sides while the Assessors conferred in quiet voices. They all nodded, including Assessor Jakara, and announced her acceptance into the Knighthood.

She sat among the other candidates as all fifteen members of the study group along with five others who were able to learn the spells on their own entered the Knighthood. For the final day of the Assessment, the Knighthood accepted 20 out of 25 new candidates, a number she heard they hadn’t seen in a single session for decades.

On the day of the wing ceremony, Hal and Kathryn both dressed in a tank top-like shirt with two slits in the back and short pants with no socks or shoes. Several knights led them into a large chamber that contained about fifty rectangular pools of thick, dark gray, gravy-like liquid. The pools, the size of a double bed on Earth, contained a floating log to keep their heads from submerging. A knight led her to her own pool and told her to enter using the steps on the left side.

As Kathryn placed her foot into the organic mixture, she found it surprisingly warm. The mixture reminded her of a thick beef stew with small slivers of beef giving it an almost grainy texture. She didn’t want to know what the small pieces were in that pool and she knelt down to lie on her side with everyone else with only a small portion of her body above the liquid, her head resting on the log. Marinating before the slaughter. Too bad it smells like dirty feet.