City of Mages

Chapter 2: Alara

"You can't just punch your way through every problem."

"Hence the spear."

"I'm not joking, Alara." Emaru's voice somehow took on a more serious tone. "We wouldn't have had to fight so hard if you could have narrowed in on the bruyas and given us the ability to strategize. You should have been able to sense exactly where they were. You should have told us their numbers. And we should have saved some of them tonight."

Alara chewed the inside of her lip. She and Emaru had this fight so many times she'd lost track. "You know I tried, don't you? I tried to use my mind-stalking, but it was just a mess of energy and people. When I pushed harder I... Raquel could have..."

She couldn't finish the sentence, acid burning bitter in her stomach.

"Stop lying to me and stop lying to yourself!" Emaru's voice was sharp. "What happened with Raquel was due to your own unwillingness to control your magia. Your fire magia shouldn't come out when using your mind-stalking abilities. You're better than that."

"Or maybe you just need to admit that your precious daughter just isn't cut out to be a mage!"

Emaru's eyes widened. It was as though Alara had plunged a knife straight into her chest. It had hurt her to say it, though perhaps there was more truth to it than even she wanted to admit.

"Where do you think that'll take you?" Emaru said, her voice low. "You want to be a member of the councilguard, yes?"

"I'm already a better fighter than many of them. Ardo doesn't have any magia, and he's a councilguard."

"Exactly. Ardo doesn't have any abilities. You do. The councilguard does not tolerate untrained mages in their ranks. The Council will not budge on this." Emaru gave a heavy sigh and stood up from the stump. "Today when the relief arrives, you're going to head back to the Haven. You're done with this mission."

"But—"

"No, Alara. Your chances are running low. If you don't open yourself up to your abilities, you will never be a mage. That means you will never join the School of Protectors, and you will never be a member of the councilguard."

She stalked away before Alara could answer. The magite was left slouched on the stump, her dark knotted curls falling across her face. She looked down at her hands, staring numbly at the mud caked in the lines of her palms. A few callouses beneath the mud were red, one even bloody, likely ripped open by her staff during the fight. She hadn't even felt the stinging until she saw the blood.

Bleary-eyed, she looked up past the tree line and noticed the stars had faded away. She could just make out pale pink in the eastern sky, coming over the rolling green mountains and wondered when the next round of guards were coming to relieve the others. While councilguards didn't interfere with these missions and tests, they were always around in case of an emergency, as backup to the in-training magites—something Alara feared she'd always be.

Exhausted, but too defeated to go back to the tents and risk running into Raquel, Alara wandered along the eastern edge of the town. Most of the trees had been cleared away from the main parts of Hurazon. The town was made up of multiple stone-lined ledges, the land flattened in layers for building. Even here, so close to the ocean, the land was sloping, rising quickly away from the River Sur that ran at the center of the valley. Trees loomed large on of the outskirts of the town, some brushing up against houses as they grew. Ferns, bushes, and underbrush edged out from the woods and crowded the boundaries of Hurazon. Dew was heavy on the leaves this morning and they sparkled in the wan light of dawn. It was the end of the wet season and everything glowed with green from the constant rain of the previous months.

Hurazon was one of the larger towns on the outskirts of Sombria. Given its position along the western coast, it served as one of several key ports. As large as it was, however, it was still dwarfed by Cielo, the sprawling city that wrapped around the mountain of the same name. And within the confines of the mountain itself was the Haven, where Alara had lived most of her life.

The mornings in Hurazon weren't exactly quiet; there were plenty of villagers milling about their homes to feed their alpacas, l'lamas, and guinea pigs. Others watered their crops or tended to their morning cook fires. Yet it was still unbelievably empty compared to the Haven and Cielo.

Alara almost found the relative silence calming, despite the anger still raging inside her from her conversation with Emaru. She replayed it in her head, coming up with new arguments to convince the woman she was wrong—that Alara would be a great councilguard with or without her powers.

She approached a small stone ledge bordering the south side of the village, a few yards from the churning waters of the river. It rushed with the recent rains, its banks already wide here as it headed toward the bay and the open sea

The stones that were placed tightly together to create the ledge were overgrown with moss, which added padding as she sat. She ignored the dew that soaked through her thin trousers, and looked out into the densely packed forest. Shivering slightly in the morning air, she realized she was still wearing her fighting gear and didn't have a scarf or poncho to shut out the cold. Goosebumps crawled up the length of her arms and sent a chill through her body with each passing breeze, though she was far too stubborn to head back into her tent after having just sat down.

She absently ran a finger along the ridges of scar tissue that lined her lower cheek and neck, running through her argument with Emaru repeatedly. She became emboldened with each pass she made of the conversation... until she inevitably made it back to the very end, where Emaru reminded her of the Haven's way. That unless she became a mage, she could not become a councilguard.

She sighed, breathing out her last bit of defiance as her teacher's words sank in.

Her head sat heavy in her hands, her skin pale from lack of sleep. Closing her eyes, she played with the thread of magia that danced in her chest. It was warm and sent a wave of heat through her as she touched it, making her shudder. As it rose, a tingle materialized at back of her mind, her mind-stalking abilities weaving with her fire magia. It was a barely-there sense of something—someone. Alara gave a heavy sigh. One mage was coming up behind her. Emaru.

Alara let out a bitter bark. "I'm opening myself up. I know you're there. Are you happy?"

She spun around with a scowl, drowsiness drowning out her tolerance for Emaru. But it wasn't Emaru that Alara made eye contact with when she turned. Instead, a dark-skinned girl who looked about Alara's age stood a few meters away, a small bag clasped in her hand. Her tan dress was embroidered simply with red and yellow yarn, marking her as a villager.

"You!" Alara jumped up, her own eyes going wide with shock. "You have magia!"

"W-what?" The girl's voice trembled, and she took a step back. Alara caught movement out of the corner of her eye, seeing Raquel turning the corner around a squat stone building. She was looking at both of them in shock, a bowl of quinoa in her hands. As the village girl turned to flee, Raquel didn't hesitate. The bowl fell to the ground, yellow grains of quinoa scattering in the dirt. In an instant, Raquel had pulled out her bow and shot a receptive-tipped arrow directly at the girl's head.

The girl let out a quick yelp as a blast of air exploded at the back of her skull, and she crumpled to the ground.