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The Sword Mage
The Maleficar

The Maleficar

There are things lurking in the dark. We know what you did, they whisper. He closes his eyes and pulls the blanket up to his head, wishing that they would go away.

Cadeyrn sits on his bed with the book on his lap. The morning sunlight pours through the tall arched windows. The other apprentices mill about, some of them readying for class, others relaxing. Several groups of them stand together loosely, gossiping. The apprentice who sleeps on the bed above him is still asleep.

Cadeyrn practices reading. He fumbles with all of the letters, unsure which ones are which, sometimes forgetting the differences between b and p and q and d. It is frustrating to be this useless at something, and he wants to hurl the book out the window.

“He doesn’t even know how to read,” he hears from a short while away, hushed. He resists the urge to look at whoever said that, instead trying to focus on the book. But as another person joins in, he finds himself helplessly caught on their conversation.

“And he’s older than us, too! Must be stupid. He must’ve come from a farm or something.”

“I’m from a farm!” another boy interjects.

“Oh, well that explains everything.”

“No way. I’m not as bad as he is.”

The air rushes out of him. They’re the stupid ones, wasting time like that. Even so, shame floods his cheeks. His hands shake as he jostles the book up to cover his face. He should just ignore them. They’re nothing but pigs - no, they’re worse than pigs. He’ll just have to suffer living with them until the time comes for their slaughter, he thinks viciously.

No. That’s not right. Until the time comes when he… doesn’t need to be around them anymore.

He curls back against the wall, hoping no one notices the trail of frost melting around the other apprentices’ feet.

In today’s class, the Enchanter continues her lecture on history. She asks questions which the other children know the answers to, but Cadeyrn does not. She berates him for not having studied, and he wants to scream. He stays silent, not meeting her gaze and ignoring the snickers of the other apprentices.

Other classes are still in session by the time she lets them go. The children run off to play while Cadeyrn treads slowly. Instead of heading back to the rooms he walks through the rest of the library, quietly observing the other classes. The rest of them are all older apprentices, some of them sitting at desks and writing furiously while others practice magic in one-on-one sessions with Enchanters.

At the end of the library is tall arch door, opened to reveal a circular room surrounded by bookcases. This is the room which leads up to the second floor, but it seems to also be used for classes. In the center is a small platform with four books left open on stands, as well as an apprentice dueling an Enchanter. Cadeyrn inches behind a pillar as he watches the girl hurl a ball of lightning at the Enchanter’s magic shield. The other apprentices gasp as the shield flickers and bursts. The Enchanter looks alarmed, his eyebrows jumping up, and raises another shield - but not before being singed.

“She really is a prodigy,” someone says. A murmur of agreement rises.

The Enchanter yells, “No Neria, no fire!”

“Oh shit,” someone hisses, and suddenly a swarm of people rush out of the room. Cadeyrn flattens against the pillar, wide-eyed. A second later a loud boom erupts from the room, a wave of heat scalding him.

“The books!” the Enchanter cries. “Neria, stop, please!”

Cadeyrn peeks into the room and sees a rain of fire. Survival instinct kicking in, he sucks in a breath and runs away as fast as he can.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The next morning he sneaks into the circular room at the end of the library. He’s surprised to find the bookshelves are entirely intact. The only scorch marks are on the center of the ceiling, great black smears fanning out like a shadow of the sun.

He holds his hand up, imitating what he had seen the woman do before calling down the rain of fire. He wonders if he could do something like that, wonders if he could burn away the world with flame. But no, he shouldn’t. He doesn’t think he wants that kind of magic, not really. Fire is uncontrollable, impulsive. It would burn him away.

He wonders what kind of magic he might learn, then. He recalls the book with pictures he found when he first came to the Circle and leaves the room to find it. It’s a fruitless search, however, and once he sees his classmates enter the library he gives up and heads to class.

It runs longer than usual today. When it’s over, he goes to the circular room again to watch the class, but it’s empty save for one apprentice. Cadeyrn’s shoulders droop and he drifts away to the front of the library, intent on finding that magic book with pictures.

Hours pass and he still hasn’t found it. The stragglers in the library leave all at once for supper. Cadeyrn doesn’t go with them, used to skipping a meal every now and then. He continues his search, sure that he had found the book here.

He frowns, trying to remember where he’d put it back after classes started. Did he not put it on the shelf? He bends down to peek underneath the bookshelves and sees a tome in the empty space near the walls. There! He searches for a gap between the shelves and squeezes through, triumphantly picking up the book. He dusts it off and holds it to his chest.

Maybe if he learns how to read better he can understand this book and the magic circles it shows in the pictures. He takes the time to flip through the tome, trying to pick out a few words here and there, but mostly focusing on the drawings.

A while passes as he sits and enjoys the images. Tired but happy, he makes his way towards the gap in the shelves. When he reaches it he freezes.

Beyond the gap he sees an apprentice standing in front of a magic circle, different from the ones in the book. It is dark red and the lines are jagged like wounds on the stone. Smoke curls up within the circle, gathering and darkening until it forms a tall and menacing monster of the shadows.

A demon.

The apprentice motions as if talking, but Cadeyrn is too far away to understand the soft murmurs, and he definitely will not get any closer. He steps back from the gap. He needs to get out of here. He casts his gaze to the side and sees that he’s boxed in by walls and bookcases. But, maybe, if he can push one of the shelves at the end to the side, he could get through to the stairs to the second floor and get help. Heart beating, he puts down the book and moves quietly.

He presses a hand to the back of the bookcase experimentally. It’s sturdy. He’s not sure he could move it even if he shoved it with all his strength. Biting his lip, he wonders if maybe he should wait instead. He should at least try, though. Cadeyrn gives the bookcase a push. It doesn’t budge. He grips a corner and leans against it, trying to turn the bookcase. But he slips, and the bookcase rocks forward slightly; not enough to shift, but enough to knock a few books to the floor. They fall with deafening thuds.

There is silence.

Cold sweat pricks his skin as he scrambles back to the wall. He hears slow, deliberate footsteps to the arched doorway leading to the library’s circular room, right next to where Cadeyrn stands. The apprentice’s breaths are violently loud. Cadeyrn watches the apprentice’s boots come closer. He watches a book disappear from the floor as the apprentice picks it up, its cover scraping against the stone. The apprentice shifts on his feet as he kneels and looks under the bookcase.

“Little rat,” the apprentice curses.

His heart exploding with fear, Cadeyrn stumbles away, trips on the tome he left on the ground. He falls to the ground.

The apprentice shoves at the bookcase. It barely budges. “Blasted-” He disappears from Cadeyrn’s view, boots shuffling on the stone. Breathing harshly, Cadeyrn attempts to rise. His limbs shake like twigs in a storm, and he brings himself to an unsteady crouch backed against the wall.

Fervent, crazed mutters issue from beyond the bookcases. “-my servant. Kill him!”

A languid, eerie laugh slinks through the room. Cadeyrn’s limbs shudder, nearly giving out again. “Ignorant fool,” a voice as slow and dark as molasses drips into Cadeyrn’s ears. The sound invades him, reaches into the coldest and furthest dredges of his soul. “A wretch like you could never control a demon.”

A pressure descends on the room with the smell of heavy smoke.

“What - no - stay back, stay -”

Cries and screams rip from the apprentice’s throat. Cadeyrn shivers, suddenly cold, and grips his fist tightly. He stands and shoves his hand at the bookcase; ice webs across its back and shoves it forward, giving Cadeyrn enough room to slip through.

A low hiss sounds behind him. Cadeyrn doesn’t look back. He runs through the circular room and up the staircase, throwing himself at the door that leads to the second floor.

Cadeyrn tumbles into the hallway and screams.

In the days following, the templars tighten their guard. The Enchanters give them a new pair of rules: no unsupervised study, and no wandering after dark. Two templars take up station outside the dormitories at night, and many more patrol the halls at all times of day.

The apprentice mages muttered rumors quietly amongst themselves. They had all been in the supper hall, and did not witness when Cadeyrn had screamed and caught the attention of the templar guards. They did not see the templars draw their swords and strike down the twisted, corrupted body of their fellow; they did not know the specifics of what had happened on that day. But they looked at the absence of the apprentice who had been slated for Tranquility, and the constant patrols of their templar wardens, and shared whispers about the Incident.

Cadeyrn remained silent. He told as much as was necessary to First Enchanter Irving and a stern, intimidating templar called Knight-Commander Greagoir, and then slipped into the background. He listened, quietly, as the apprentices tittered and grieved over the one who had become a Maleficar.

“They’re all just waiting to kill us,” someone murmurs in the shadows of the cots. “Waiting to kill us all, just like they did Erik.”

“No, that’s stupid. It’s just… he made a mistake. Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.”

Cadeyrn slips shut his eyes. He dreams of his mother and her favorite sow, and her squeals when father butchered her for market.