Sederan Tales

The morning brought with it the early hustle and bustle of a large school of magic, along with the awkwardness of five people sleeping outside on campus. Rex was the first awake. She slowly disentangled herself from Asher’s arms without waking him, then sat up, leaning back on the small bench behind her. The fire had gone out, leaving her much colder than she was the night before. She pulled her knees up close to her and wrapped her arms around them.

The oddest thing, in her opinion, wasn’t simply the news that she had heard; it was the fact that she had believed it so easily. Now, having calmed down, the news seemed less like a curse and more like a missing puzzle piece. She had always been an exceptionally talented Rexelian, but it had never wavered with her being in the right (or wrong) mindset, as most other mages dealt with. Even though she was the top of her class, and had been her entire life, she still had a vast well of untapped potential. And how did her parents know before birth that she would grow to become a Rexelian?

And then there was the matter of leaving. While she implicitly trusted her sister’s warning, she knew it wasn’t quite believable. But she couldn’t leave without warning the elders. She also couldn’t leave without explaining her departure. And who would oversee the town guard?

She glanced down at Asher’s sleeping body. He had always been understanding. But how understanding would he have to be for this? Rex didn’t know the extent of her experimentation, so she assumed the worst.

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Asher, Arlia, Katelain, and Petra were gathered around the campfire near the Rexelian women’s dorm. The sun had long since set, and most of the Rexelians had turned in for the night.

Katelain had explained to them that the school was no longer safe, and that Rex would likely be going back with them. Asher was initially irate at this news. Anger led to accusations, but accusations gave way to questions, and answers finally made room for concern, which was the feeling held now by all four of them.

All of the questions and conversations had since passed, however, and the group had sat in silence for about half an hour.

Asher got up and took a seat next to Katelain. “So when do we leave?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“As soon as possible,” Katelain said. “I realize there are some things to wrap up first, but we have some important things to get to.” Asher seemed content with this, although he was definitely not excited. “I noticed you said ‘we,’” Katelain said.

Asher nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

Katelain nodded without looking at him. “I’ll leave that decision to you and Rex.”

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“No, no, no,” said Rex, waving her hands to show her disapproval. She was addressing a Rexelian student standing next to her in the training grounds. “Stance is everything,” she said. “There is no force without resistance, and you have to be prepared for that.”

“I’ve never had a problem before,” the student whined.

Rex shook her head. “Well, not with rocks!” she said, motioning toward some small boulders on the far end of the practice grounds. “You’ve never been up against an opponent who was fighting to reach you. When a target pushes back, that creates force, and you never know how much there’s going to be until it hits you.”

Asher, who was leaning against a tall wooden post, took a few steps toward them. “I’m probably going to regret this,” he said, “but try to knock me down.”

Asher instantly began running straight at the student. The student’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he quickly raised his hands and pushed toward Asher, sending an invisible shockwave of concussive force. Both of them fell over backwards.

Asher quickly jumped to his feet in one graceful motion, unfazed. The student clumsily got up and groaned.

Rex stood with one foot placed firmly in back of the other, her knees slightly bent. She raised her hands dramatically and then pointed down toward her feet, then shot the student a look that suggested that she would hit him if he didn’t practice this. The student sighed, assumed the stance, and resumed his practice against the boulders.

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The next day at the monastery was a much lighter one. Arlia had slept through her morning lesson (she had earned it, she told herself) and decided to catch up with Asher and Rex late-morning.

The Rexelian quarter was bustling with chatter and activity as word started to get around about the new opportunity for them. Looks of excitement and ambition were on nearly every face—unusual for the Rexelians. The practice area was completely full of students practicing their craft, now with new resolve.

Arlia walked plainly among them for once, not receiving any stares and even receiving a few smiles and nods. She had hoped to be left out of the story, but it was clear that she was not.

Arlia found Rex and Asher on the steps to the Rexelian women’s dorm, now surrounded by a half-dozen other Rexelian students and two Lyrenite students.

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Arlia sat biting her lip on the front steps of the central college building as the sun set in front of her. Her arms were resting on her knees and her hands were folded neatly in front of her, although she gripped them rather tightly and wrung them from time to time. Her left foot was tapping incessantly.

A student approached and she looked up quickly. A young man in grey clothes gave her a curious look. She forced a half-smile and nodded nervously at the man, which was enough to appease him. He walked quickly past her and toward the Accian quarter. Arlia quickly diverted her eyes to a shrub which was growing near the building’s entrance.

Arlia thought through the events of the past 24 hours which had led her here. Just the night before, she had been studying in the healer’s tent; now, she was ready to hand her life over to the mercies of a ruling lord from another country. Her mind went back to her last few hours in Snow Village, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for the elder’s judgment. She was crushed upon her exile from Snow Village. She couldn’t believe it was all happening again. The happiness she had held just the night before gave her a little hope for her new future that had just unfolded, but not much.

“You pack enough?” Asher said. Arlia nearly jumped.

“Iona, Asher, do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

“Sorry,” he said, “force of habit.”

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Asher stopped by the healer’s tent as soon as the sun came up. He found Arlia sitting in the front area, wide awake. She still had a little bit of blood on her tunic that she either didn’t know about or didn’t care to wash out. She mustered a weak smile for Asher as he walked in.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Asher asked. Arlia shook her head. “Me neither,” he said.

“I know that sort of thing happens,” Arlia said, “but it’s different when you’re seeing it firsthand, dealing with it, you know? Zem’s pretty shaken. She’s still asleep in the back.”

“I talked with the rest of the Lyrenites about it,” Asher said. “They’re outraged, as I was. We’re going to set up patrols to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m taking the first shift.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? We haven’t talked to the elders yet,” Arlia said, looking concerned.

“These people are paying for protection, but they need protection from their protectors! If that’s not thievery, I don’t know what is.”

“I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’s not our decision to make,” Arlia said.

“Hierarchies be damned. We’re taking care of it.”

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Arlia jumped as someone shook her awake. She awoke to Zem, an apprentice healer, standing over her with frantic eyes.

“Arlia—help!” Zem pleaded.

Arlia immediately jumped out of bed and ran around the divider into the patient area of the healer’s tent. A frazzled woman was holding a boy of about eight, who was clutching what looked like a rag that had been soaked completely through with blood. The boy’s eyes were red, but he looked like he’d cried all he could.

“Help my son!” said the woman, “Please, I beg of you—”

Arlia was already pulling the boy’s arm up to look at. She gasped as she removed the bloodied rag and saw a stump at the end of the boy’s arm, still spurting blood. She put her hands over the stump, closed her eyes, and concentrated. A warm light radiated out from her hands.

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Nearly straight across the monastery from the Ionan quarter was the Rexelian quarter and the college of destruction. The students there studied more destructive magics, ranging from concussive blasts to spews of flame. The students there were also responsible for more fights than most of the other students put together.

Traditionally, Rexelian colors were brilliant reds and oranges. As such, it appeared much more lively than the other quarters of the monastery. Not all students could afford completely red or orange clothing, but all had at least one prominent piece showing their true colors.

As Rexelian students walked about the campus, talking and joking, one sat alone on the steps to the women’s dorm and stared out into space. She was nineteen years old, although deceptively small and runtish, with medium-length, unkempt, jet-black hair and dressed in a mixture of grey with some striking red and orange accents. The others seemed to be ignoring her.

The Rexelian teen didn’t notice as Arlia approached her. Arlia stopped a few feet short of her, crossed her arms, and waited slyly to be noticed. After a few seconds, the small teen glanced up and saw her standing there.

“Oh, hi Arlia!” she blurted out, glad to be pulled out of her mess of thoughts.

“Hi, Rex, are you okay? Have you been banished, or something?”

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