Alara had never forgotten the smell of burning flesh. Smokey. Rich. Metallic. She felt it sear through her, filling her lungs, threatening to choke her as she watched the scene play out.
She had lit someone on fire. Again.
This was how she would fail the Haven. Fail Emaru. Fail everyone.
Time seemed frozen in the moment her fire magia had reached out to spark the flames across Raquel's tunic. The other magite stared, wide-eyed in horror as her sleeve was eaten into ash. Senye Emaru stood behind Alara, a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing her hard enough to bruise.
She could have turned on her teacher. Yelled that it was her fault for pushing her—threatening to fail her out of school. But the councilwoman wouldn't have even flinched under her verbal assault. She'd only give Alara the same look of icy disappointment she gave countless times before when the girl had lost control of her magia.
So Alara did the one thing she trusted herself to do—she moved decisively forward, ripping her thin leather vest from herself and throwing it over Raquel's arm before the other girl even had time to scream. The heat and light of her magia immediately went out, throwing their small group back into darkness.
The night stilled again as they stared wide-eyed at Alara. It wasn't the first time her magia had failed her or the group. But it was the first in a long time that she'd accidentally set fire to something while trying to use her mind-stalking ability. She knew what they were all thinking: even a seven-year-old would have had better control.
It was Raquel who spoke first. "Alara! What in El'dyo's name is the matter with—"
"We will talk about what just happened later," Emaru said, putting an end to the hotheaded magite's complaints, though Alara knew she was less pleased with her. Her guardian and teacher's voice was biting — more biting than the chilled mountain air. "But for now, I believe we have company."
It didn't take Alara's mind-stalking abilities to know the enemy bruyas had spotted them, and were headed straight toward their huddle. Their footsteps were soft, but distinct in the silent night. The villagers of Hurazon had locked themselves away in their homes hours before, leaving Alara and the other magites guarding the perimeter in silence. It left the village eerie and quiet as they waited, even the faint buzzing of insects dampened by the thick air, soft and hushed.
The plan had been to sneak up on the bruyas and surprise them as they attempted to raid the outskirt village. There had been reports of bruya sightings in the area for the past few months, and Emaru had taken on the task as a final test for the magites nearing graduation.
Prove they could use their magia to protect the village and capture the rebel magia users, and they proved they could be full-fledged mages.
"For El'dyo!" Emaru whispered as the shadows in the cloud forest before them shifted.
The others repeated her words, raising their own weapons and arms. Alara threw her vest back on and snatched her wooden staff from the ground. The heat of her magia pulsed in her chest, as if still trying to reach out to the smoldering remains of Raquel's tunic. Her eyes met the other girl's for only a second and she saw a flash of fury. She was definitely going to hear about that later from the other girl. She probably owed her a new tunic.
Alara was snapped from her thoughts as an arrow whistled by her head, thudding into a tree a few yards behind her. A moment later, the world exploded. Balls of flame met jets of water. Steam hissed and danced in the air as the two collided.
Beside Alara, Raquel took up her bow and shot arrows into the chaos, her hand moving gracefully as she used her wind magia to aim and turn the arrows in unnatural ways. A few hit their targets—wind-filled crystalized receptives against skulls and wrists. Nothing deadly. The Haven didn't kill, even those who threatened their country.
Hearing the sounds of heavy footfalls behind her, Alara whipped around to see a dark-eyed bruya coming at her with a spear. She launched to the side and swung her staff to block the man's blow and swipe at his legs. Like Alara, he only wore thin armor over his chest. His legs were clothed, but unprotected.
She caught him off guard and the bruya fell onto his back with a dull thump. But before she could celebrate, a blast of wind shot her off her feet and sent her skidding across the dirt.
By the time she stood back up, the bruya was running at her again, this time, spear forgotten on the ground and his arms raised up toward her. Another sharp gust of wind pelted her shoulder, and she stumbled back, hands searching in the dark for her staff. She knew a third strike was imminent. Perhaps this would have been a good time to use her magia. Another fire magite would be able to blind him, singe his hands, or block his strides with a well-aimed shot of fire.
Instead, Alara braced her body for the third blast of air, letting it strike her just as she launched herself to the right. She flew back a few feet, hitting the ground with a bone-aching thud. Her jaw throbbed as she smiled. Her staff was now only a foot from her hand. The bruya recognized his mistake an instant too late as Alara threw herself at him, staff raised. She struck him across the knees and twisted to jam the butt of the staff into his gut. Even the leather armor he wore couldn't protect his diaphragm from the sharp hit. He fell forward with a grunt.
"Cuffs!" Alara shouted, suddenly realizing the pair she had worn on her belt were no longer there. Perhaps they had fallen during the scuffle, or when she was trying to save her classmate after her accidental murder attempt.
"I got you." Mitteo came up behind her. She turned back to grab the cuffs just as the boy's foot caught on a root and he fell face first into the dirt a few feet away. Alara tried not to lose focus and she moved to grab the cuffs where they had landed. But when she turned back, the bruya she had downed was gone. Her eyes swiveled back to where Mitteo stumbled up, face muddy and red. The idea that this magite was going to be graduating from the Haven soon, while she was about to fail out sent a wave of unfettered anger through her. The boy was an earth magite and still tripped over every damn root.
She opened her mouth to berate the boy, but before she was able to get the words out, a wall of heat burned across her vision and fire veered sharply to the left, just missing her.
She didn't have to look to realize Emaru had saved her tail with a well-timed burst of air. The mage waved her hands calmly in front of her, the strain of the effort not even registering as she redirected the gust toward the bruyas, using their own powers against them. Emaru gave a sharp flick and a fire attack from a long-haired bruya ricocheted off an invisible wall, flying toward his own ally across the way.
"Use your abilities to corner them!" Her face was fierce. Even in the dark, Emaru's gray eyes seemed to glow.
Alara gripped her staff and looked back toward the fight. She raised her hand and took a deep breath. She could feel the heat of the torches set up at the village center and sensed the fire lean toward her. She reached back toward her own center, to the thread of magia that danced there. But as the wave of heat crawled up her chest, she let out a strangled cry and dropped her hand. The magia immediately dissipated and her body went cool.
"Try again." Emaru said to her.
"Right now? Don't you think—"
"Right now, Alara!"
She lifted her hand again, but couldn't bring herself to reach toward the flames. Dread curled in her stomach at the feel of her buzzing magia. She shook her head, her arm falling limp to her side.
"Useless child," Emaru said. "Go help Raquel, then!"
Alara tried not the feel the shame shuddering through her in cold waves as she sprinted to where the other girl fought. Raquel moved gracefully between firing arrows and sending bursts of wind at bruyas. As Alara watched the girl dodge the magia attacks, a small sense of hopelessness rang through her. The Haven's strategy would always baffle her.
The magites were fighting to capture. The bruyas fought to kill. They were ruthless in their use of magia. Anything to destroy the Council's rule. Personally, Alara thought the bruyas didn't deserve saving, not that she'd ever let Emaru hear her voice such things.
One bruya broke off from the group and move to attack Raquel from the side.
Alara grabbed the bolas from her belt, relieved they hadn't fallen wherever her cuffs had. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she sent the bolas flying. The rope struck the bruya just below their knees, the stones wrapping around their legs, snapping it tight. The figure went down hard.
Alara sprung forward, hoping to catch the bruya and knock them out. But before she could reach them, the bruya had gripped the rope around their ankles, disintegrating them into flames.
As they jumped up, Alara saw it was a younger boy, likely around her own age. His hair was long, falling into his face and partially covering his eyes. They grew wide as she approached.
Alara moved into a fighting stance, ready to take him on. But rather than meet her head-on, the boy turned and bolted in the opposite direction. She watched as the figure disappeared into the forest.
He wasn't the only one. As it turned out, all the bruyas were retreating, tearing through the underbrush from where they'd come.
She took a deep breath and let the humid air fill her lungs, heavy and cool. She could feel the sweat as it dripped down between her shoulder blades under her tunic. The night was again hushed and quiet. The sounds of the forest came alive as the shadows stilled between the moss-draped trees.
The magites themselves were no worse for wear, still standing. Still breathing. Still living. They were scattered across the rocky clearing, the flames of Hurazon flickering just behind them.
They had survived the attack in one piece.
Alara's smile widened involuntarily, and she thrust her staff up in victory as she took at the tired faces around her. Her gaze found Senye Emaru's and the look on the older woman sent her heart stuttering.
"Fool," Emaru said. Her voice was cold and pierced the air like a knife. "I should never have brought you along. You are clearly not ready."