Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1) (3 page)

D
amien walked
across the training yard beside Master Shen, his rucksack slung over his shoulder. It took all his focus to maintain a stoic expression. He’d never need to stand in line waiting to get a broken bone again. No more orders and instructions he couldn’t carry out. He was through with the place and all his father’s expectations. If Jen and Lizzy could’ve come with him he would never even consider returning.

The stables sat at the rear of the grounds, the opposite direction from their path. Was Master Shen planning to walk all the way to The Tower or had he brought horses of his own? Or better yet, did he plan to summon a flying beast? Damien figured it wouldn’t hurt to check, just in case he had gotten lost. The sorcerer didn’t live here after all.

“Master, shouldn’t we collect mounts before we leave?”

Master Shen chuckled. “No need for that, Damien. Sorcerers have faster means of travel.”

They reached the dirt patch near the edge of the grounds where the sorcerers alway landed. Damien’s heart raced. Master Shen was going to summon a flying beast. Damien could hardly contain his excitement.

Master Shen raised his right hand and a golden glow appeared in the air in front of him. The glow expanded and shifted, forming into a great griffin. Damien stared at the huge beast. Would he be able to create such a thing? The prospect thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

Master Shen lowered his hand. “Have you ever flown, Damien?”

Flown? He’d never considered such a thing possible for him outside Lizzy’s psychic world. “No, Master.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Master Shen waved his hand again and three golden steps appeared from the ground. “Climb aboard.”

Damien went up the steps and found a pair of saddles had formed on the creature’s back. He swung his leg over the back saddle and found it every bit as comfortable as sitting on a horse. The weirdest thing was the griffin didn’t breathe or tremble. It felt like sitting on a statue.

Master Shen climbed up in front of him and a moment later a golden belt appeared around Damien’s waist holding him tight. Right, if they were flying the last thing he wanted was to fall off the back of this thing.

“Ready?” Master Shen asked.

Damien nodded and the griffin leapt into the air. Seconds later Damien peered over his shoulder. The Citadel looked like a child’s toy; the students training, bugs gathered around a sugar cube. Master Shen circled The Citadel once, perhaps imagining that Damien wanted a moment to say goodbye. If Master Shen believed that he was seriously mistaken. Damien was happy to leave the place, with its bullies and expectations, far behind.

Master Shen made one last pass then turned east, the beast picking up speed. After a minute Damien realized there wasn’t any wind and the griffin’s wings, while spread, never beat.

“Master, why does your beast not breathe or beat its wings?”

“It’s not alive, Damien. The griffin is a soul force construct. I like to use a griffin, but I could have made it look like anything.” Master Shen put his hand beside the griffin’s flank and the creature flowed like soft clay. A moment later the griffin had shifted and Damien sat on a horse with no wings. The movement and feel of the thing hadn’t changed a bit. “See, nothing to it. The construct is just to give us a place to sit while we fly. I could’ve shaped a couch for all the difference it would make, but a flying couch is beneath the dignity of a sorcerer.”

Damien couldn’t see his face, but he suspected from Master Shen’s tone he was smiling. “Why is there no wind?”

“Since I don’t care to pick bugs out of my teeth, I wrapped us in a windscreen.”

Amazing. The things a warlord could do astonished Damien, but this, this seemed impossible. “Will I be able to do this sort of thing, Master?”

“Of course, conjuring soul force constructs is a basic skill for a sorcerer. You should be able to manage a flying mount by the end of your first year.”

A year? Damien goggled. In a year he’d be able to fly around like a bird whenever he wanted to? It was beyond comprehension.

He looked down and watched the green treetops whiz by. That had to be the Great Green, the largest forest in the kingdom. It was over a day’s ride from The Citadel and they were already well into it. How fast did the griffin fly? Ahead of them the edge of the forest raced closer, the lumber camp that sat beside the tree line resembling nothing so much as markers on the map in strategy class.

“We’re almost there.” Master Shen turned his head to look at Damien. “How are you?”

Damien grinned. “Eager to learn how to fly on my own.”

Master Shen smiled as well. “I remember that feeling. Hang on to it when you get frustrated.”

The sorcerer turned back and pointed ahead and a little to the right. A great black tower jutted into the sky. Around it several smaller buildings huddled in the shadow of the surrounding wall. North of the complex sat a circular amphitheater, a well-worn path connecting it to the northern gate. A few miles distant from the tower, a little town had sprouted up. Like the one near The Citadel, it sat close enough to provide services for the masters, but far enough away to keep from tempting the students to sneak out and play.

Their mount descended and as they flew closer to the school Damien got a sense of just how huge the tower was. It had to be a hundred and fifty feet tall and a hundred feet on each side. Though the shape differed he suspected the tower was every bit as big as The Citadel.

Master Shen brought the horse in for a gentle landing. The belt holding him in place faded away and Damien hopped down to the ground. The sorcerer joined him and a moment later the horse vanished. Damien turned a slow circle. The yard was empty. Up on the wall he saw an occasional guard carrying a crossbow and wearing a sword strapped to his back. The way they were slumped suggested to Damien they didn’t expect trouble. Lucky for them his father wasn’t here. Even if they weren’t expecting trouble he’d have given them a thorough talking to about staying alert on duty.

“Where is everyone, Master?”

Master Shen glanced at the shadow of The Tower. “It’s about three so I’d guess they’re in class. Sorcerers don’t train much outside. The yard is used during flight practice as a place to take off and land. Sometimes the guards drill, or the students get a game of Long Ball going, but other than that it’s usually empty. Come on.”

Master Shen headed toward the tower and Damien followed a step behind and to his left as was proper for a new student. Halfway to the tower the sorcerer noticed him and laughed. “No need to hang back, Damien. You’ll find Sorcery a good deal less formal than The Citadel.”

“Yes, sir.” Damien quick-stepped until he reached the sorcerer’s side. “I’ve gotten so used to the rules of The Citadel it’ll take a while to learn new ones.”

A set of double doors made of some dark wood Damien didn’t recognize marked the entrance to the tower. Master Shen pushed them open and they swung inward without a sound and the two of them stepped through, the doors shut behind them.

The tower’s entry hall was smaller than the one at The Citadel. Polished black stone with silver veins running through it covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. It felt like standing in the night sky. Doors made of the same wood as the outer doors waited on each wall. Master Shen turned left and pushed a door open. Behind it, a hall covered in the same black stone led deeper into the tower.

“Down this hall are the administrative offices.” Master Shen led the way. “I sent a message to the headmaster so he should be expecting us.”

They passed several closed doors before stopping in front of one marked with a silver pentagram. On a bench opposite sat a boy Damien’s age, with sandy brown hair, a brown tunic, and tan pants. Brown eyes stared at Damien, unblinking.

He was about to ask the kid what his problem was when Master Shen pushed the door open. “Come on.”

Damien put the boy out of his mind and stepped into the headmaster’s office. A huge cherry desk dominated the room, covered with books, parchments, quills and ink. Behind it waited a tiny man with a pointed white beard, dressed in a black robe embroidered with stars. Two small, dark chairs waited in front of the desk and matching bookcases stuffed from top to bottom with leather-bound books lined the walls.

Damien bowed. “Sir, Damien St. Cloud reporting for instruction, sir.”

The little man hopped out of his chair and rushed around the desk. He couldn’t have been over four and a half feet tall. He grabbed Damien’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “No need for such formality, my boy. Have a seat.” His voice matched his stature: small and squeaky. “Excellent work finding him, Lon, thank you.”

“My pleasure, Thomas,” Master Shen said. “I’m heading back to The Citadel to resume their training.”

“Of course, of course.” The headmaster waved his hand towards the door.

Master Shen turned away from the desk. Damien said, “I don’t know how to thank you, sir, for telling me what I am.”

“As I said, it was my pleasure.” Master Shen favored him with his warm smile. “If you put in half the effort training in sorcery that you did at The Citadel, you have a bright future ahead of you. Good luck.”

Master Shen left the office and closed the door behind him. Damien swallowed, suddenly nervous. This place was different from home in every way and the only person he knew at all had just left.

“You seem a bit anxious. Sit down, please,” the headmaster said. He stepped back around his desk and Damien eased into one of the chairs. It seemed wrong, sitting in the master’s presence. He’d have taken five lashes back home if he’d dared sit in one of the masters’ offices.

“I suppose I am, sir. This is all so new, so different. I’ll do my best to settle in quickly.”

The headmaster waved an indifferent hand. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has a first day and everyone’s nervous. Some settle in fast, others less so, but sooner or later everyone settles in. When Lon said he found you I was pleased to have a fourth member for the first-year class.”

Damien blinked. Perhaps he’d misheard. “Excuse me, sir, did you say my class is only four people?”

The headmaster nodded. “That’s about average. Last year we had five, the year before only two. We currently have twenty-three students in various stages of training.”

Damien had over thirty in his class alone at The Citadel. “Why so few, sir?”

The tiny sorcerer chuckled. “No need to add ‘sir’ every time you address me, son, Thomas is fine.”

Thomas? He’d never considered calling a master by his given name. Damien doubted he could force himself to do it. “Yes, sir.”

The headmaster shook his head. “We’ll work on it. As to your question, the reason we have so few students is that a sorcerer is born only rarely. In any given year only a handful of children with externally flowing soul force are born, and often fewer than half of them are powerful enough to serve as an effective sorcerer. The biggest first-year class we’ve ever had was six and that was over a hundred years ago.”

Damien had no idea so few sorcerers were born every year. He’d thought warlords were rare, but compared to sorcerers they were common. “How do you have classes with so few students?”

“We don’t have formal classes, not the sort you’re used to. Some students learn best with a study partner, others in small groups, and still others benefit from individual instruction. That’s what you’ll be receiving, at least for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ll be receiving individual instruction, sir?” Were they afraid he’d slow down the other students? He’d never been popular back home, but he liked having comrades to train with, even if, later on, he couldn’t fight at their level.

“That’s right. I fear you don’t realize just how tremendously powerful you are. Until you can control your power it’s very possible you might accidentally hurt or kill an unskilled partner. Working one on one with a skilled teacher will give you the best chance of bringing your power under control with the minimum amount of danger to anyone else. Okay?”

Damien couldn’t fathom that these people thought he was powerful enough to be a danger to the other students. No one had ever considered him powerful, much less a threat. “Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Excellent.” The headmaster gestured and the door swung open. The boy on the bench stood up and at the little man’s beckoning entered the office. “Damien, this is Eli. He’s another first year. You two will be roommates and Eli will help you settle in. Once he’s shown you around he’ll take you to Mistress Ann’s training room. She’s expecting you so don’t dillydally.”

Damien stood, bowed to the headmaster, and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. “Thank you, sir.”

The little man nodded again. “Off you go.”

Damien followed Eli out of the office and the door closed behind them on its own. That would take some getting used to. The boys walked back to the entry hall.

“Sorry for staring earlier. I’ve never seen soul force as dense as yours, not even the masters’,” Eli said.

“That’s fine.” Damien didn’t know what dense soul force meant, but Eli seemed impressed. He pointed to the right-hand door. “What’s back there?”

“Meeting rooms. When the masters meet with nobles or merchants or whoever, that’s where they do it. The first floor is the public portion of the tower. Everything above is for sorcerers and students only.”

Eli opened the center door and behind it waited a curved staircase leading to the next floor. Damien took the steps two at a time and halfway up had to stop to let Eli catch up. The boy didn’t look like he was in bad shape, but he wasn’t warrior trained either. They continued up to the second-floor landing where they found yet another dark wood door. Inside was a black stone hall branching left and right. Eli went left.

When they reached an arch he turned right down a door-lined hall. “This is the students’ dormitory.” Eli went to the third door on the right and pushed it open. “Here’s our room.”

Damien followed his guide inside a rather plain room. Brown carpet covered the stone floor and two narrow beds sat ten feet apart. There was a footlocker for his gear and two tables and chairs. Spartan, even by Damien’s standards.