Prodigy of Thunder, page 8
“Uh-huh.” The soldier pressed his tongue into his cheek before pointing his wooden blade. “All right, sweetie, let’s you and me—”
Anna yanked violently with her left hand, roaring, “Disablo!” The sword shot out of the man’s grip, spinning in midair. While he gaped at it, Anna launched her staff, once more yanking on it just as it tapped the man’s leather jerkin with a bop. The judge raised a hand even before the sword stuck into the soppy earth. People clapped politely as Anna bowed before hurrying back to her book, leaving the soldier to scratch his temple, wondering what had just happened. She read while waiting for the next round to begin. But the more people gawked at her, the less she absorbed.
Next came a sixteen-year-old man wielding two wooden swords, with a rather large woman following. He had a brutish face and wore a spotless royal blue doublet embroidered with gold threading. One young woman in a pretty flower dress clutched her bosom and sang, “Show that baby witchling what we’re all about, Lord Hesper!”
The young man ignored Anna and swung the wooden blades this way and that all fancy-like, while the women swooned and young men clumsily imitated his moves. Anna noticed he had strapped the blades to his hands with leather cords, something she found fascinating. He completely ignored her until the judge raised a hand for them to begin.
Anna bowed. Lord Hesper merely inclined his head. Anna twirled her staff with a whoosh before abruptly stopping it diagonally whilst crouching forth in a leaning lunge. “Slippery Slope,” she said.
Lord Hesper scoffed and jogged at her, blades spinning. Anna waited one heartbeat and threw the staff at his feet. He jumped over it, only for her to lash out with a hand. She did not need to see the tendrils grab hold of his muddy boots, for she felt them go taut as she yanked. The young man flipped backward, limbs flailing. He landed in the mud with an ungraceful splat, soiling his fine tunic … and lay there.
Anna plodded up to him, unsure of the rules. But just as she pondered if she should kick his boot for the touch, the judge threw up an arm, and an animated round of clapping went up, for the pair had attracted quite the crowd.
To Anna’s surprise, the brutish Lord Hesper smiled at her. “You are quite the marvel, little lady. Who taught you this strange technique?”
Anna opened a palm and her muddy staff snapped into it, drawing some oohs. “Papa and Panza, my lord.” She offered her other hand.
Lord Hesper took it and allowed her to haul him to his feet, whereupon he bowed with a flourish. “You have vanquished me, young lady.” The women in the audience swooned, and Anna suddenly thought him a little handsome.
That was when she noticed a tall woman with a bony porcelain-pale face and the finest and longest braid she had ever seen. It hung down her front like a sleek black snake, crossing a diagonal golden sash and tapering down a robe as black as a well hole. The academy crest, embroidered in gold thread, shone against the black fabric like a beacon fire.
The woman stared at Anna with cold hawk eyes before moving on to watch the next contestant.
“Who’s that?” Anna asked an emerald-robed bystander after picking up her book.
“That is none other than Headmistress Roberta Roth,” the young woman whispered.
“Headmistress of the academy?”
“Wrathful Roth is what we call her. You caught her eye, but it’s best you stay out of her way. I think she’s a grouch who loves seeing students put to the cane for the slightest infraction.”
Anna tucked that detail into the back of her mind as she prepared for another round. Her next three opponents fell to Ringing Bell, Shooting Star, and Charging Knight, enhanced of course by her fluid spell casting. She wowed with Telekinesis, Push and Disarm, and only once summoned her lightning shield when the third opponent—a thin soldier with a quivering mustache—chucked a dull-ended spear at her, only for Anna to snatch it telekinetically from the ground and spin it about, clobbering the man on the side of his bucket-helmed head with a resounding gong that blended with the city’s bells, which happened to be striking at the time, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd.
Throughout, Anna was conscious of Headmistress Roth circling the arenas like a shark. Her presence only made Anna want to perform that much better. Between rounds, she used the blue book as a prop to keep people from asking her stupid questions like “What’s magic?” or “Does witch blood really extend life for Ordinaries?” or the particularly fun, “Is it true that witches blow up when tossed into fire?” Anna of course failed to absorb a single word—until fingers snapped before her face. She looked up to see Headmistress Roth glaring down at her.
“You will answer their questions forthwith,” she snapped. “That is part of our proata mentora. We are here to foster relations by enlightening people on the arcane craft, not swagger about like air-headed chest-thumpers.”
“Yes, m-m’lady—”
“Headmistress Roth.”
“Yes, Headmistress Roth.”
The woman moved on as Anna scrambled to get up. But by then, no one was left to ask her questions, for they had moved on to the central arena, around which quite the crowd had gathered. Anna schlepped over, clutching her book and staff close, and saw a young woman in a tight-fitting leather garment and blond pigtails jabbing a dulled spear at Deya, who kept expertly smacking it aside with her staff, her long braid bouncing, a grin plastered on her face. And opposite, she was surprised to spot Mother and Father and Panza looking on with proud faces. Anna considered running to them but the duel caught her attention.
Deya twirled her staff and tossed it. While it whirred in the air, she twisted her wrist at her opponent, snapping, “Dreadus terrablus!” But her pig-tailed opponent had evidently been trained well, for she expertly ducked the invisible tendrils. Those tendrils slapped into a portly man behind her, and he immediately began screaming like a child caught in a nightmare. The audience laughed as an amber-robed warlock wearing a white healer sash ran to the man to dissolve the spell.
Deya caught the staff and rolled it over her shoulder. Rolling Boulder, Anna thought as Deya slapped her wrists together and incanted, “Annihilo!” A fireball—tempered, of course, lest it cause real injury—shot at the young woman, who smashed it apart with a quick zigzag of her spear.
But as people ooh’d and aah’d at the display, Anna quickly realized that Deya was only toying with her opponent. Deya bided her time, until the young woman overreached. With a smug grin, Deya jabbed at her stomach—only to slip in the mud. The young woman instantly took advantage and twirled about, hair flying as she let go of her spear—and she slapped Deya upside the head with a loud smack! Deya dropped her staff and staggered back, a palm pressed to her cheek, tears already welling.
The judge’s arm shot up and the crowd went wild, the warlocks in the crowd laughing their robes off.
“Behold the fruits of arrogance,” a cold voice said. Anna looked over to see the back of Headmistress Roth as she sauntered off.
Anna felt a hot surge shoot through her veins on her sister’s behalf. Sure, they were enemies, but she suddenly felt a familial bond that demanded the family honor be redeemed—especially with Father and Panza and Mother looking on.
She got her chance right away, for the judge pointed at her. “Finals. Miss Jenna Montgomery versus a Miss Anna Stone. Let’s go, ladies.”
Deya stomped off to Mother and buried her face into her magistrate robe. While Mother enveloped her in a loving hug, Panza and Father consoled her with pats on the back, for as far as Anna knew, Deya had never lost a public duel before, even an unofficial one. And whereas she’d usually take some satisfaction in seeing her bigger sister shed tears of sorrow, perhaps even think something crude like, How’s it feel to get creamed?, on this occasion her heart went out to her.
Anna strolled to the arena and floated her book toward her family. “Can you hold this for me, Papa?”
Her father grabbed it with a smile as Panza gave her a nod of encouragement. Mother only looked on somberly with sleep-ringed eyes, for she oft stayed up late dealing with legal parchments. Her fingers, perpetually ink-stained in the family tradition, lovingly stroked Deya’s neck.
“Hello, Mama,” Anna said, longing to be loved like Deya. But she received a lukewarm smile, which only deepened the hurt in her heart. Whereas Father treated both daughters as equally as he could, Deya had been Mother’s clear favorite for as long as Anna could remember.
“I’m going to redeem the family honor,” Anna blurted to her mother and whirled about as nearby observers laughed.
“She’s got spunk,” someone noted, while another opined, “Honorable to fight for her sister like that.”
Anna went to stand opposite the pig-tailed girl and bowed. She put one foot forward and held the staff with both hands like a lance. “Charging Knight.”
Miss Montgomery, who was Deya’s age, crouched low whilst holding her long spear before her in a similar fashion. She narrowed cool gray eyes.
A woman in the crowd shouted, “Show those witches they’re no better than us, Miss Montgomery!”
“I will have you know that word is as vulgar as Ordinaries,” another woman in the crowd snapped.
“Shut your gob, witchling!”
A fight broke out between the two women. The judge raised a hand and kept it there, drawing out the suspense until the officials had separated the women. Only then did he drop his hand, shouting, “Fight!”
Miss Montgomery stabbed forth so quickly Anna barely had time to change footing and summon her shield. There was a sharp thunk as the hard lightning absorbed the blow, the force dislodging Anna’s left handgrip from her staff. She let go of the staff altogether and yanked on the spear with her right hand, snapping, “Disablo!” but Miss Montgomery was ready. She let her spear twirl aside and dove at Anna. Anna jumped away and spun backward with her shield, but Miss Montgomery expertly rolled underneath and the shield whooshed over her head.
Finding themselves apart, the girls both went for their weapons, with Miss Montgomery grabbing her spear as quickly as Anna opened her palm and had her staff zoom to it with a slap. Just as she turned to face her pig-tailed opponent, something smacked into the back of her unprotected mind. Suddenly she saw herself playing in the mud with the kids in River’s End. One of them must have gotten her again. She tried to duck as another mudball sailed her way, only to receive a vicious jab to the chin. There had to be a rock inside the mudball because she felt her jaw crack.
Anna grunted and fell to the mud on her knees, hearing piggish squealing. When she glanced about, she saw pigs dancing on hind legs. One of them had blond ears and was being mobbed by the others.
“What’s … what’s happening?” Anna muttered.
A porcelain hand with long spidery fingers grabbed her head and snapped off an incantation. Anna’s thoughts immediately cleared, and she saw that she was in the arena—and Miss Montgomery was rejoicing with fellow college pupils.
“I wasn’t prepared to face that spell,” Anna blurted, swaying in a daze.
“Because you are too young to learn Mind Armor,” a cold voice said.
Anna froze, for the robe sleeve above the hand was as black as pitch.
While Headmistress Roth held Anna’s head with one claw-like hand, her other extended back with a bent elbow, fingers spread. Nineteen lightning rings exploded to life around her right arm, making the audience gasp. “Un vun asperio aurum enchantus,” she incanted. After examining the invisible tendril evidence, her eyes shot to Anna’s family. But when Anna looked over, she saw that her sister was conspicuously absent—and instantly knew what had happened.
The sting of betrayal cut to the quick.
Risks
“How does it feel to have one of your daughters betray the other?” Mother hissed, holding on to Deya’s arm. “How does it feel to have the family honor so publicly rebuked?”
The sisters glared at each other with smoldering eyes. Deya, the taller of the pair, looked down upon Anna with devout loathing, while Anna looked up at her with a mixture of rage and hurt. Father stood beside Anna, one hand resting on her shoulder.
In icy silence, they had trooped to Mother’s city home, an airy establishment with golden fixtures and gilt-framed paintings depicting stern-faced old women in magistrate robes. The moment the argument had begun, Panza had quietly excused himself to the vestibule to smoke his pipe.
“That has never been my intention, Thelma, and if you had simply worked with me instead of—”
“Instead of what, Sampson? Uphold the law as is my sacred duty? Protect what remains of our precious daughter, the only one you would allow out of the house?”
“You know what the consequences could be should—”
“You risked arcastration for the entire family!” Mother roared, spittle shooting forth, round face as crimson as red bee nectar. “The headmistress was one iota away from starting an investigation. If I hadn’t spoiled the tendril evidence, the accusation could have been made then and there! How lucky you are that no one noticed! Do you understand that, you selfish pig of a man who cares for nothing except secret glory and projecting virtue when his own house reeks of hypocrisy? It isn’t enough that you quest about the kingdom with someone who will be declared an outlaw in due course—”
Anna recoiled. “Panza’s not an outlaw!”
“Oh, did you not even tell your daughter that much?”
Deya snorted. “Even I know that Panza’s an Arcaner.”
Anna’s throat went dry. “An … an Arcaner? Panza?” Is that why he never casts his shield?
“Not in front of the girls again, Thelma. They have heard enough—”
“Hypocrisy, Sampson Jeremiah Stone! And for what? An ancient secret trinket? Is that worth the price of your family? Of your daughters?”
Father’s voice went just as cold. “It is the sacred duty of the bloodline to advance the cause of goodness and to keep evil from attaining—” but he stopped himself from finishing.
Anna looked up at her father’s ever-graying beard. “Attaining what, Papa? Is it what’s inside the pouch? Is that what Deya wants for herself?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deya snapped. “I don’t know anything!”
Mother slowly clapped. “Congratulations, Sampson. One of your daughters knows and the other is as inquisitive as a raccoon. I hope you’re happy. Now what are you going to do? Pick one over the other, I suppose? Isn’t that the way of it? Divide them forever against each other, something you seem to have already achieved with majestic aplomb? You inherited a curse you are determined to pass on, poisoning your daughters.” The clapping continued. “Congratulations indeed.”
Anna, vision blurring, had had enough. “Stop it, Mother! Please! Stop it …”
Mother let go of Deya and kneeled before Anna. “My sweet daughter, I love you very, very much, but you are going to have to choose. Do you want to live with your father and continue his abhorrent and unethical training outside of the law, or come live with me and your sister as a free young woman in the city?” She pressed a warm hand to Anna’s wet cheek, and Anna leaned into it with a whimper. Her worst nightmare had come to life. Worse still, her father took a step back to give her space to make the decision all on her own. He wasn’t fighting for her, begging her to forgive him and continue living with him.
“Panza’s not an outlaw,” Anna mumbled, chin trembling. “He’s a good and decent and honorable man and—”
“All Arcaners will be declared outlaws in due course, my dear. That will be the law of the land if the nobility has their way in the coming years. And we must all obey the law, Anna.”
Anna kept shaking her head. “He’s not a bad man …”
“You have to choose, Anna,” Mother whispered. “I am sorry, but I can no longer condone what your father is doing to you. You have to choose.”
“Please don’t make me choose, Mother, please …”
“There is no other way. Your father ensured it.”
“Please, Mama, please …”
“Choose.”
“I don’t want to!”
“You must.”
“Mama, no …”
“Choose, and choose wisely, Anna.”
* * *
Anna sat numb as ice back in her dark bedroom, Bun-Bun pressed against her chest as she went over the moment again and again in her mind. She remembered breaking down in a heap on the floor, crying harder than she had ever cried before, heaving great big sobs, and no one coming to help her until she finally screamed for Panza to take her home.
And that was how she had made her choice.
Panza had scooped her up, taken her outside, and teleported her home, whispering soothing words and even singing the old children’s medley, “A Boy and his Cat.” He had tucked her into bed with Bun-Bun as if she were six again, blown out the candle, and left her to drench the little bunny with her tears, as had happened countless times before.
Now it was the hour of the owl and Anna sat up in her bed, trying to put the pieces of her shattered life back together. Sure, Deya had betrayed her, but Anna was so sick of hating her wretched sister. All she wanted was to forgive her and to forgive her mother for forcing her to make an impossible choice and to forgive her father, who was doing things beyond her understanding. She trusted him because she knew his heart was true. And as much as she wanted to live in the city, she could never leave Father alone with a broken heart and an unfulfilled quest.
No, she would see her training through with her beloved papa no matter the cost.
“So be it,” she whispered, tears dripping onto her nightshirt. “So be it …”
She sniffed hard, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and sniffed hard again. She squeezed Bun-Bun. “You’re right. Can’t feel sorry for myself forever.” She nodded. “I agree. We should do something about that, shouldn’t we? And we both know my weakness, don’t we?” She slapped her knees and got up. “So let us wake Papa up this instant.”
She strode through the cold corridor, holding Bun-Bun by an ear, and knocked on her father’s door. When he opened it, she enveloped him in a hug.
