Kastali Dun

Claire's eyes flew open as blazing sunlight streamed into her room, disorienting her. Her sleeping chamber was doused with blinding brilliance. "Wake up, sleepy." Reyr threw open the remainder of the chamber's thick curtains. She could do little more than groan and throw a pillow over her head...then the blankets...then sleep...

"No friendly greeting?" The corner of her bed suddenly sagged under his weight.

"I'm too tired to get up," she slurred, hiding in the darkness. "Just a little longer." That was all she needed, just a little longer. After a full night of sleep, she was still tired. But...why? Was she getting sick?

Her sluggish memory drifted over the previous night slowly...then faster. Memories of magic swam into her consciousness. She had performed magic, real magic! The idea made her bolt upright into a sitting position. She rubbed her bleary eyes.

"Excellent! You have changed your mind! Welcome to the world of the living." Reyr rose from the corner of her bed and tossed something at her—a chemise and gown that had been draped over a nearby chair. "Get dressed. You're still wearing what you wore last night. And, you already missed the morning meal in the hall."

"Who cares? I'm not hungry anyway. I'd rather sleep."

"Would you rather sleep than meet the Grand Mage and begin your training?"

"What?!" she shrieked, jumping from her bed. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Reyr shrugged with nonchalance. His toothy grin abolished any guilt. When he was satisfied that she was up for good, he turned on his heel and left the bed chamber, shutting the door behind him.

She removed her gown and went into her bathing chamber. It was a blessing that the castle had some semblance of modern technology in the form of plumbing; this was used for their bathing pools to keep the water warm and circulated, almost like a hot tub. The toilets, however, weren't nearly as sophisticated; they were merely pit toilets, so the waste dropped down chutes and out of sight to some unknown place.

With haste, she bathed and dressed before entering the living area of her quarters. A tray of food sat on the table. Reyr sat beside it, picking at it, waiting for her.

She smiled and rushed over to grab a bowl of porridge. "No time for that," Reyr said. "Grab something for our walk. We must be off."

She offered him a scowl before plucking up two bread rolls, which she stuffed into her mouth in a very unlady-like way.

Reyr escorted her through the keep. As they went, he explained the sudden change in her circumstances. "I spoke to the king last night," he said. "He agrees that your training must begin straight away—if you are ready for it."

"You know I am, as I told you last night."

"Aye, I know." There was a long silence before Reyr said, "I should add—just so you know—that His Majesty visited Marcel late last night. He rarely does that. He wanted to ensure that your training began immediately simply because you wished it to."

She frowned. "I'm flattered that King Talon is so concerned. I didn't think he cared."

"He cares more than you would guess," Reyr said. She glared at him, which made him casually shrug and add, "Maybe he is trying to make up for...you know..."

"Oh! Don't get me started on that. You know where I stand on—"

"Yes, yes. Nothing beats a genuine apology, believe me, I know exactly where you stand on that."

If only King Talon also knew...

It angered Claire that the king had not yet apologized for his bad treatment of her. Regardless, she wasn't interested in discussing it with Reyr, so she reminded him to get back on track. "As you were saying..."

"Ah, yes. Your training. Marcel will see to everything. I should warn you though, the road which lies ahead will be difficult. You have a great deal to learn in a short period of time. If Saffra's vision comes true, and you play a large part in the war to come, then we must prepare you as best as we can."

The vision he referred to was one Saffra had told to the court when trying to convince them of Claire's importance, except, Saffra had not been entirely truthful. She told the court Claire was supposed to play an important role but said nothing of Claire's fight with Kane.

Claire sighed, trying not to let the enormity of the situation overwhelm her. Every time she thought about her role, things felt ten times harder. "It's a bit much, isn't it? Playing an important role..." she said at last.

Reyr chuckled. "If anyone can do it, you can."

"Cliché! I've heard that one before."

"Just trying to help." His eyes sparkled with mischief before his face turned serious. "I am here to help, you know. Joking aside, if you need anything, you need only ask."

"Is that so?" Her tone remained playful, but her mind was racing as to how she might benefit from such an offer. A smile crept to her lips. "You know, I really could use your help."

"How may I be of service, my lady?"

"Well, for starters, I'm on my way to meet the Grand Mage of a magical society I know little about. Maybe you could tell me more? I want to be prepared."

Reyr chuckled. "All right then." He wasted no time in telling her everything he could, and as rapidly as possible so that she struggled to keep up.

"The Society is an ancient order, built upon the very foundations of this keep. Those who belong to it, the Magoi, rely upon the magic of the old language, the same language used by the Asarlaí. When King Eymar the First selected Kastali Dun to be his capital, he insisted that a college be built along with it. That is where I am taking you now, to the College of Magoi. In case you have not yet realized, Magoi is the plural of Mage."

"That one I figured out."

He nodded and continued. "The college, and subsequently, the Society, were established nearly fifty thousand years ago. The Drengr Monarchy was founded then too. The two go hand in hand: the Society and the monarchy."

"It's such a long time—fifty thousand years."

"I suppose so. To a human, such a lifespan is difficult to consider, but not to the Magoi, who often live much longer than humans do."

She stayed silent, letting him continue.

"Since its creation, the Society has presided over the magical community, sitting just under the rule of the Drengr monarchy. Its creation was monumental in bringing order to the Magoi's harsh treatment of others. Those with magic have a tendency, at times, to look down upon those without. The Society keeps everyone honest."

"So everyone was okay with them sweeping in and taking over?"

"They were opposed at first, but soon after, none could deny their importance. King Eymar's Magoi were placed around the kingdom to ensure those with magic behaved."

Claire and Reyr passed into one of the large courtyards on the third level of the keep. Claire hardly noticed. Too many thoughts and questions were taking form in her head. What kind of order did the Magoi keep? Did young children submit themselves to the Magoi when they discovered magic? Did the Magoi have Mage representatives in every city throughout Dragonwall? She was forced to keep her questions to herself—for now.

"The purpose of the Society is to teach those with magic to control and use their powers. That was part of the reason for placing the Magoi around the kingdom. Most well-established settlements have a Mage. This Mage trains those who are new to the art."

"It sounds as if the Magoi have their own government."

"Aye, they do. All those with magical abilities must attend training. To ensure this, they are registered and tracked...usually."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "No establishment is perfect, and as you can guess, those in smaller settlements can slip past the watchful eyes of the Society. Though it happens seldom, you can imagine the problems it sometimes causes."

She nodded. "Probably something like when I lost control with Lady Caterina and knocked her unconscious."

"Exactly like that, but oftentimes worse."

"All the more reason to begin my training as soon as possible."

"Indeed. We must begin at once."

"It is a lot to digest."

"Yes, I can see why." He stopped in front of a door. They had reached their destination. She was disappointed because she wanted to know much, much more.

"This is where I leave you."

"So what about—"

He held up a hand to silence her. "No questions, Claire. Save them for another time." Then he winked, gave her a pat on the back, and hurried off.

Her brain was in a frenzy. There was so much she did not know—so much to learn. She was determined to do her best.

Blinking, she finally examined her surroundings. The college had its own wing in the castle located on the eastern-most side of the third level. Much of it overlooked the Bay of Bandu. From what she understood, everything at the college was overseen by the Grand Mage. She stood outside his door, hesitant to knock. Several minutes had already come and passed.

Since arriving at the keep, Saffra was the only Mage she had met. From what she had heard of them, they were regarded with both fear and awe. When the servants spoke of them, they did so in hushed whispers.

A clicking sound made her jump. Before she could knock, the door opened. She stood facing a squat, older man with sparkling grey eyes and a shaggy beard. His manner of dress was drab. He wore plain black robes that were belted at his waist. This, she decided, was probably Marcel.

"What are you waiting for, dear girl? I might die of old age if you do not enter!" Though his words were snippy, his smile was friendly.

"My apologies, sir."

She was ushered into a large study. It was oddly decorated with strange glass and metal instruments. Tall bookshelves at least two stories high lined the wall opposite her. There were a few random wooden tables scattered around, along with armchairs, and two fireplaces, one on each side of the room. Several interior doors were closed. She assumed they led to the Grand Mage's living quarters.

The Grand Mage motioned for her to follow him. He led her to a large wooden desk, which dominated the back center of the room. She took a seat. He then took up the large chair opposite her, grunting as he pulled it in. Once sitting, he loudly exhaled. She waited for him to speak, but he didn't. He sat there looking at her, smiling. In fact, his smile grew larger and larger. She was almost worried that he found her amusing or was sharing a silent joke with himself. When he finally spoke, he said, "I have been curious to meet you, Lady Claire. At last, you are here. As you can imagine, rumors precede you—a woman worthy of Cyrus's Gift."

She opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it.

"The king filled me in—late last night, I might add—so no need to explain. Let us jump to the point. As a result of Cyrus's Gift, you now possess magical abilities. I have no experience with Gifts, and there is little written about them, so we must proceed with caution.

"In the king's court, Saffra mentioned her vision and that you have an important part to play in the war to come. What part? Who can tell? Perhaps not even Saffra. However, I believe we can begin a special training regimen at an advanced pace, and from there we might get your magic where it needs to be.

"From this day forward, you will be a Mage-in-training until you either choose to become an apprentice or take your exams."

She gazed at him, too tongue-tied to speak.

"Your training will cover everything from diction, cantrips, incants, and incantations with Mage Targa, to brews with Mage Sepia, history and magical theory with Mage Joren, and everything in between with me. There are other Magoi who teach here but they cover advanced topics. We will not dive into those quite yet."

"I see."

Marcel smiled, reassuring in the way he gazed at her, almost as if he knew how overwhelmed she was. "With the others—Mage Joren, Mage Sepia, and Mage Targa—your training will be regimented. With me, it will not be. Our time together will be devoted to better understanding your strange curiosities.

"Now, let us move on to your training schedule. You will report to me every morning after breakfast. Do not be late." He arched an eyebrow at her, as if he knew she wasn't a morning person. "When you arrive, we will spend our time studying the mystifying aspects of the world, including your capabilities. Thereafter, I will direct you to either Mage Joren or Mage Sepia. They will work with you privately, which is rather unusual: our students generally work together. After the mid-day meal, you are to report to Mage Targa. For that portion of training, you will join other students. You will each be at different levels in your training, so do the best that you can. The second half of the afternoon is your time. I recommend you use it to study."

Mage Targa. Mage Joren. Mage Sepia. She began repeating the names of each Mage in her mind and the lessons they taught, trying to keep everything straight.

"Mage Targa has an excellent mastery of the old language, as you will discover. It is especially important for you develop the correct habits of diction when using magic, but more on that later. Targa is a fine teacher. Do you know where to find him?"

She shook her head.

"Well enough. Why not go see him now? The morning is nearly over anyway. No point in sending you to Joren or Sepia. Targa's study is located out that door"—he pointed at the door she came in through—"and to the right, four doors down the corridor. Think you can find your way?"

She nodded, pretending to keep up.

"Good. Go and see him. When you have finished, stop by to see me again." Marcel rose, so she followed.

When she left, she thanked him profusely. She was almost reluctant to leave his easy presence. The idea of meeting more of the Society's Magoi was nerve-wracking.

Moments later she found herself standing in front of another closed door, and once more, she was too overwhelmed to knock. This time her mind was further saturated. She took a deep breath and tapped on the door. Shortly thereafter it opened. She found herself face to face with Mage Targa. He was a thin man, bald, with bold eyebrows and dark eyes. His face was solemn to look at—a direct opposite of Grand Mage Marcel's. The only thing they had in common was their drab attire.

"Mage Targa?"

"Yes. Who is asking?" He studied her with a narrowed gaze.

"Oh, I'm Claire." She extended her hand. He did not take it. Instead his dark eyebrows rose briefly in recognition, then his face went back to its previous expression. She lowered her hand and began to explain the reason for her visit. "The Grand Mage sent me to meet you. I'm to begin my lessons today."

"Fine, all right," he acknowledged, sounding slightly reluctant. He moved aside and bid her to enter.

His study was different from what she had expected. It was much smaller, and far emptier than the Grand Mage's. Everything about it was dark and uninviting and she disliked it immediately.

"Sit," he commanded, motioning to the chair opposite the sofa upon which he sat. She followed his instructions. "First things first, let us go over some ground rules."

"Oh—of—of course." This meeting was already going poorly.

"I take my class very seriously. I expect you to attend daily and treat your lessons with the utmost regard."

She eagerly nodded.

"There are four other students aside from yourself. I demand that all of my students get along and behave maturely, no matter what." His gaze narrowed once more. "Everyone is treated the same, so there will be no exceptions made for you despite your...status." His tone and attitude were crisp.

"Class will commence after the midday meal each day except rest days. We meet in the royal library, so I do not expect you to dally on your way from the dining hall." He paused for a moment. "Each day we will practice the words necessary to perform magic. The pronunciations can be challenging, as the language is not like our own. I expect you to study and practice diligently. You will be tested. There! I believe that covers everything. Do you have any questions for me?"

Her heart pounded in fear. What could she possibly want to ask such a frightening person? "Should I bring anything to our lessons?" It was the only question that came to mind.

"Yes, occasionally you need to take notes, so quill and parchment should be fine."

She exhaled, half expecting him to yell at her.

"No other questions?" he asked. She shook her head. "Very well then. I will see you after the meal."

"Thank you, Mage Targa." She quickly rose and left his chambers. What a terrifying man he was!

Before she returned to her quarters, she made sure to stop by Grand Mage Marcel's quarters, just as he had instructed. When she told him of her supply requirement for Mage Targa, he gave her some writing materials, which included a feathered quill (she had never used one before), an ink pot, and parchment.

"I suggest you pick up some supplies in the city when you have a chance," he said. "The market by the docks has a number of booths with a unique selection if you are looking for something inexpensive or exotic."

She had yet to visit the market. At least now she could petition Reyr with a good reason.

"See you tomorrow, Lady Claire." Grand Mage Marcel ushered her from his room.

She rushed back to her quarters to prepare for her afternoon lessons with Mage Targa. Perhaps if she worked hard enough, she might change his opinion of her, whatever that opinion happened to be. She had a feeling he was a hard man, and she worried that no matter how much she tried, he would never think highly of her. That alone created a new fear in the pit of her stomach. She had no idea what would happen. All she could do was wait to see what the afternoon would bring. 

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