Page 4 of Storm of Shadows
He frowns like I’ve displeased him and turns his head away.
I shake my own head, annoyed that some guy could make me feel so disoriented, and concentrate instead on the set of guards marching towards us.
I wonder why they’re needed. We’re all here, aren’t we? If we were going to run, we’d already have done it.
It seems no one’s getting shot today, though, because the troop of guards halts in front of us, moves aside and the Empress herself steps forward.
She is a tall, willowy woman, with pale skin and pale eyes. A crimson gown drapes across her delicate shoulders, a pink thread woven through it that makes it glow in the dusk. It reaches the ground, her feet not visible and her arms, gloved in red leather, are clasped in front of her. On top of her head, woven into her golden locks, sits the steel crown of the realm.
All my life, I’ve seen pictures of her – on posters, in frames, in books. She is beautiful in an ethereal way. Delicate, fragile-looking, like the shell of an egg. Yet, this is the woman that controls the realm and all of us in it.
To see her in real life has me just as disoriented as a moment ago.
Or maybe that’s just the two hits to the head. I’m not usually so awed. I don’t intend to be. That isn’t how my time at the academy is going to go. I know who these people are. I know how they treat people like me. I won’t be bowing and scraping at their feet.
“Welcome, offspring of the realm.” She smiles at us serenely, like we are her very own children. “One thousand years ago, this realm and its people were lost to the darkness and at the mercy of demons. It was only with the discovery of firestones, the taming of dragons and the emergence of those among us able to wield strong magic that we drove the danger away. From the ashes, our new realm was formed where each has their place, every one their role. However, I do not need to tell you that the threat still remains. The darkness encroaches us from all sides, the demons are an ever-present and deadly threat. It is only through the continued efforts and sacrifice of those able to wield shadow magic that we are protected from harm.”
The soldiers stamp their feet and knock their fists against their chests.
“Today you become students of the Firestone Academy. Today you join the thousands of others before you in undergoing the year-long learnings and trials that will determine your future.” She casts her eyes over us, seeming to take each one of us in. “All of you have talents – whether it be your intellect, your brute strength, the ability of your hands – or the unique and powerful wielding of magic.” She points to the shadow weavers, who smirk with self-satisfaction. “You all have something to offer the realm. You all have your place in ensuring the safety of its people and our collective prosperity. Whether that be by providing the food from Slate Quarter needed to feed our realm, or inventing new technology in Granite Technology to aid our fighters. Whether you will become a foot soldier from Iron Quarter supporting our more elite fighters or you are a shadow weaver protecting our realm with your magic.” She lifts her hands into the air, sparks of magic exploding from her palms. “By trial and truth, your Quarter calls!”
The guards around her clap and, taking their cue, so do those lined up on the platform.
Not me though. I keep my hands by my side. This is all bullshit. My fate’s already written – was from the moment I slithered from between my dying mother’s legs and into Slate Quarter.
Stanley is right. I won’t be going anywhere but home, where the ‘ability of my hands’ will be exploited, where there’s nothing worth living for, where I’ll be worked to the bone until I’m a broken wretch like my dad – unable to make it through the day without a bottle or two of spirits by my side.
Maybe once upon a time I trusted the system. I believed, like everyone else, if we gave our best, we’d be assigned a Quarter that would most suit our talents. Then I learned better.
My insolence goes unnoticed and finally the Empress lifts her hand for silence.
“I will not pretend that your year at the Firestone Academy will be an easy one. You will be pushed to your boundaries, stretched to your limits, driven to your breaking points. We intend to find the best among you – the most talented, the most powerful. And only the trials of the utmost rigor and hardship will reveal your true capabilities, your true selves.” She pauses again, although this time there is no clapping. This time I’d say the realization has finally hit. There’s a reason one or two students return home in a coffin each year. The Firestone Academy is a dangerous and forbidding place.
I know that better than anyone else.
“And so,” the Empress continues, “there will be no delay. Your first trial begins this evening. In fact, it will start right now. You may leave your bags here – they will be transported up to the academy for you.” She points off into the distance. Right there on the horizon, just visible above what looks like the dense tree line of a forest, tall castle turrets climb into the darkening sky. “You will make your own way to the academy. Points will be rewarded and, as you know, points will determine to which of the four Quarters you are assigned. Good luck.” She smiles again and then, with a whisk of her cloak, she vanishes from sight, along with the guards that surrounded her, all of them melting into air.
What follows is confusion and chaos.
People swing their heads around in panic, others crowd around with their friends murmuring to one another, some call to each other.
Above the commotion, one of the shadow weavers jumps up onto a pile of bags – or did he fly up there?
“Yeah, good luck, you cock-sucking commoners. This is where you learn what real strength is. This is where you learnwhy we are the ones chosen to protect the realm. This is where you learn your place. None of you are getting any points. Because we’re coming for you.” He rubs his hands together with such glee it makes my blood run cold.
The powerful always prey on the weak. And tonight the powerful are going to show us just how weak we are.
The voices become more frantic. One girl is already crying. Another boy shaking.
Me, I’m not hanging about. I’ve heard what happens the night new students arrive at the academy. I’ve already taken one beating today. I’m not about to take another.
I swing my bag back up onto my shoulder, wincing again with the pain, and jump down from the platform.
“Hey, Slate scum, you’re meant to leave your bag behind,” some jerk calls out from above me.
I ignore him. There is no way I’m leaving my bag unattended. No way on earth I’m being parted from it.
Instead, I scan the landscape quickly as the sun dips behind the horizon and plunges us all into a black so thick it sucks away all the light. The temperature drops several degrees with it and cold caresses my body. Around us lie open fields and the distant forest. And perhaps the gurgle of a stream or a river. Already there are people running out across the fields – people, I bet, who aren’t prepared to wait around and find out what’s coming.
