Title Page

 The Brides of the Fallen

by: MJ Fjeld

 

This book is dedicated to my brilliant mother who spends countless hours editing my stories and supporting my delicate 'writer's ego.'

 

This material has been copyrighted and is subjected to all rights and protections. 2017.

Presented by Touchwood LLC.

 

 

 

For more about the author visit:

https://www.facebook.com/MJField/

or

https://www.mjfjeld.com/

 

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Capitalis

Chapter 2: Trial Day

Chapter 3: The Practice of Magic

Chapter 4: My Decided Fate

Chapter 5: Carthden Cain

Chapter 6: The High Council

Chapter 7: Babylon City

Chapter 8: The Family of Cain

Chapter 9: Day Out

Chapter 10: Defiance

Chapter 11: Bonding Ceremony

Chapter 12: One Year Later

Chapter 13: The Journal

Chapter 14: Lunch Date

Chapter 15: The Tunnel of Trighten

Chapter 16: Remembering

Chapter 17: Fatal Flaw

Chapter 18: Emson

Chapter 19: New Conviction

Book 2 sneak peak

Prologue

Have you ever imagined the impossible? Imagined it for yourself? Imagined it because of yourself? Have you ever seen yourself so clearly doing what you had once thought was impossible, and realizing that it’s reality now? I never had before. Reality seemed like such a permanent, unmovable thing. Now though, I imagine the impossible with every other thought. Though in only one thought in every few thousand thoughts am I actually overcoming it.

Sometimes I want to overcome the impossible so badly it’s like I couldn’t imagine anything standing in the way of my sheer willpower. It’s all I can see, it’s all I can breathe, and it’s all I know. Reality has a way of crippling the imagination though. It used to cripple mine. Until one day, after so many billions of thoughts, dreams, and reaching, I finally touched it. What I had been hoping for all along and didn’t even realize.

I didn’t overcome the impossible.

I set a new standard of achievability.

 

The Capitalis

“Addy sweetheart, hurry up, I don’t want you to be late.” My mother’s gentle but worried voice called to me from where she stood in our small kitchen.

“Just a second mom!” I hastily pulled the strings of my boots and straightened up, running to the bathroom that stood just in between my room and the master room which my mom and I shared in our little apartment.

I knew that appearances wouldn’t count toward my final score but still, I couldn’t help but yank the brush through my hectic hair one last time to make absolutely sure everything was perfect. Everything had to be perfect, especially today of all days, nothing could go wrong—I wouldn’t allow it to.

After checking to make sure I was decent, which I was except for the crazy light in my eyes and the flush on my cheeks, I ran down the hall. I grabbed the large black duffle bag—which had arrived along with my appointment notice—that I had arranged three days in advance and packed and repacked so many times I knew where each item was located by heart, then headed out the door after my mother. The duffle bag was heavy; it must have weighed twenty or thirty pounds. I accounted it to over-preparing, I didn’t know what I would need, and so I had taken a little bit of everything; which, would be a bad idea if one of the trials had a time limit.

Mom and I got into her fifteen-year-old Subaru Outback and pulled out of our parking lot that sat underneath our apartment complex. “Now just remember, be polite, don’t talk out of turn, and only answer the questions they ask you, don’t deviate; just say whatever information you think is relevant to the question,” Mom told me as she pulled the car past the gate of The Community and onto Highway 41 heading south along the Chicago city border.

“I know mom, you’ve been telling me the same thing since I got the appointment.” I smiled at her fondly. If anyone was as nervous as I was I do believe it was my mother.

“I’m sorry, of course you know it baby, it’s just…you’ve been working so hard. I know you’ll do great though sweetie, if there was ever someone in our family to redeem us, it’s you.”

No pressure or anything, I couldn’t help but think darkly to myself. I felt that pressure. Every day I felt it. That pressure was what drove me to be so studious, it was what drove me to be so prepared.

But mom was right. I was the last chance the family had. Either I passed my Trial Day, or my mom and I would be forced out of the protection of the Magisterium and into the human world to face it on our own. I couldn’t let that happen. She was right about another thing as well, I had been working hard. Ever since the Elders had notified me about my appointment, I had spent every available hour I had at the library of Breece studying, learning, practicing and improving. I couldn’t afford any mistakes. Our family’s reputation wasn’t as praised as most other families, and so, I had to make up for it with perfection; and my secret to perfection was knowledge—after all, knowledge was power as they said, and so what I lacked in social power, I was hoping to make up for with knowledge somehow.

“One more thing,” mom continued. I just smiled, I knew there would be more than just one more thing. “The Magister might say things about me, unpleasant things; but, no matter what anyone says you can’t react! To them you are only loyal to the Magisterium, any other alliances are just a detriment.”

I quickly placed my hand on her arm to sooth her; I could already see tears in her eyes. “Don’t worry mom, dad told me all about what you did the last time I summoned him. Apparently he was worried about me reacting negatively too. I guess I must love you or something.”

Mom smiled, but didn’t reach to place her hand over mine. She had always been terrified of driving and was exceedingly grateful we never really had much of a need for it. The Elders provided most of our necessities and mom and I preferred staying within The Community anyways—it was just easier that way.

“I love you too, baby, and I’m sorry about the pressure my decision placed on you. I didn’t think that far ahead when I made it. I never thought about what it would force my children to have to go through. I hope you understand now why your dad and I have always taught you to have foresight, it saves a lot of trouble.” Dad had been thorough in explaining the guilt mom felt.

I was never very good at expressing my more sentimental feelings, but I felt like I had to tell her something, even if it was something that just made the situation a little bit lighter.

“It’s okay mom, really,” I interrupted again, “I never liked any of the guys here anyways.”

Mom gave me an accusing look. “Did you ever give any guys here a chance?”

She had caught me. I smiled. “Guys here are too immature.”

Mom looked at me with feigned exasperation. “Maybe you’re just too mature for the guys here.”

I chuckled, indulging her because I agreed completely. “Perhaps…”

Ever since my dad had died five years ago, I had had to grow up quickly. Plus, it was hard not to grow up fast with the kind of pressure that was put on the children of The Community.

Expectations have a way of maturing children, and having a single parent doing the work of a mother and a father makes the child grow up in a way little else can. There is a reason it takes two people to make a child; because, even though my mother is perfect, it takes two people to raise a child—or at the very least one and a lot of help. My mom needed me to help her out sometimes, even if she never admitted it. I wouldn’t let her down though, and for that, I couldn’t afford any distractions. Besides, all the boys in The Community were truly, very poor excuses for distractions. They were always banging on their chests and asserting dominance—in a manner of speaking of course, they were still only boys, which actually just made their attempts pitiful instead of impressive.

“So who do you think I’ll end up with?” I asked mom eagerly. We had been having this same discussion for a while now; going back and forth between important names, fantasizing about the most important and then laughing ridiculously because the idea was so preposterous. I mean, it wasn’t like I was going to end up with Iwa himself.

Mom smiled. “Well, if you do as well as both you and I know you’ll do it must be someone important.”

I smiled back, but then was suddenly overcome with such acute nervousness I had to swallow past my throat working to close up.

“It’s suddenly hard to think about that. I must be more nervous than I thought.”

Mom looked at me sympathetically. “We probably never should have started talking about it in the first place. That’s not something you need to be thinking about right now. You have enough to fill your brilliant head with already.”

I smiled, already feeling better. “You do know that you are the best, most flattering mother alive right?”

Mom smiled again. “I know baby.” Mom clutched my hand briefly then, before she panicked and threw it back on the steering wheel.

I smiled and looked out the passenger’s window, letting all the tall buildings float pass like some kind of unexplored dream. Chicago really was a beautiful place; but it had never mattered enough to me to bother exploring it. The only thing that had mattered so far in my life was studying, and practicing, and learning, so that when I stepped in front of the Elders and performed for the Magisterium I would feel confident and prepared. As I saw the big domed building appear over the horizon though, no amount of practice could have prepared me for the sheer insignificance and panic that overcame me then.

“There it is,” mom said, her voice deepening; either with being scared or just being serious I couldn’t tell. “That’s the building where the Magisterium is waiting for you.”

“The Capitalis.”

I just stared at it, memorizing it. I had seen dozens of pictures from every angle. I had researched the architect’s notes about building it. I had looked up floor designs, electric and plumbing schematics, the historical significance behind the building site, inspirations behind the murals, the building’s interior decorator, everything. And yet, looking at it just then, realizing the power and influence that lied within that building, waiting to thrust itself upon me whether I was prepared for it or not, it was like we were strangers meeting for the very first time.

The entire building was a bronze color with a gold trimming, the dome reminded me of a large observatory which sat on top a square shaped building. The building as a whole looked important and regal. However, to anyone without magic running through their veins, it just looked like an office space—humans didn’t recognize the power that it held.

Mom took the exit off the Highway and turned left onto State Street, all the while the Capitalis grew closer.

The next turn led into the parking lot, mom went around to the south end and parked in the very back in a spot marked 22E31. I took a deep breath, not wanting to get out of the car, not wanting to unbuckle my seatbelt, not wanting to move at all in fact. Mom turned off the car and looked over at me. I couldn’t meet her gaze, I knew her eyes would be full of pity and kindness and I couldn’t be soft right now. I had to steel myself, and I had the perfect method for that.

In my mind, I thought of my father. I thought of the last memory I had of him before he died. He was kissing my mother goodbye, dressed in combat gear; I remembered his familiar heavy cargo pants, heavy light taned boots and hard vest he once told me deflected bullets. I remember he had a scar on one cheek and a splice in one eyebrow. He always had a kind face though, despite the evidence it bore of his violent job. I remember his soft brown hair and scruffy beard he used to tickle me with. I remember he was so tall I had to jump to hug him when he didn’t bend down fast enough. I remember that last day, before he left our front door forever, after he kissed my mom he came over and squeezed me to him in a hug, kissing my head and telling me to be good. Then he was gone. I recalled those feelings, those feelings of when the Head-Magister had come and explained that my father was never coming home again. They told us that he had died in glory defending The Gate and protecting our people, and that he had died a hero saving the lives of forty-seven men by being the only one to turn back and help his fellow troops when they couldn’t get away from the grenade fast enough and then laying himself ontop of it when it was clear the choice was his life or dozens of others. He was lost but the day was saved.

It took me a long time before I could think up to the glory part of it all. All I could think about was that he had died, and that overshadowed everything for a long time.

I concentrated on those thoughts and felt the familiar stirrings of magic flowing through my body. I waited for the pressure, for the magic to become strong enough for there to be no doubt it would accomplish what I desired. When the pressure became a tightening in my chest, I unleashed it through a simple phrase.

“Fugite viscera.”

Immediately the magic raced from me, taking my feelings of tenderness, and vulnerability and leaving me strong. I could feel my magic accomplishing my intent, hardening my resolve and taking away the threat of nervousness.

I felt emotionally fortified. My confidence was back, unmasked from previously being clouded with ridiculous insecurity. I was ready for this. I had been preparing all my life. This was my moment to show that all those years of studying, all those painstaking hours of perfecting my abilities hadn’t been for nothing. I could do this, I would do this, and I would do it to perfection.

“You ready baby?”

I looked over at my mother whose face wasn’t worried, to my surprise, she was confident. She was confident in me. That was the final push I needed to get out the door. I nodded my head, unbuckled my seatbelt, and stepped out of the car; facing my fate as I walked, arm in arm with my mother, my duffle bag slung across my back, toward the southeast entrance—the one that led the way to the basement where the Elders and the Magisterium were waiting for me.

Trial Day

Mom and I walked across the main floor of a brightly decorated waiting room toward the counter that stood in front of a pair of elevator doors. Two cream-colored couches lying on a rust-colored rug sat up against a wall, provided seating for three nervous looking women and their stoic husbands. I recognized some of the faces; these were the mothers and fathers of some of the girls my age who had also been given Trial Days today. I grabbed my Mom’s hand and squeezed consolingly—she would be sitting there shortly, only she wouldn’t have my father to comfort her. Sometimes people had to sit for hours, I didn’t know how my Mom was going to deal with the anxiety of it all.

Behind the counter sat a perky woman in a pinstriped business skirt and jacket with a white blouse underneath and her hair pulled back severely. The overall effect wouldn’t have been so bad except she was quite old and her severe hairstyle gave her forehead the appearance of a face-lift. I couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

“Welcome to the Capitalis. Do you have an appointment?” Her voice was high and squeaky, like a woman who won’t give up on being young and so is forcing youth and a smile to come out through her vocal cords.

This was what became of women who failed their Trial Day. Mom had failed, but luckily, that had been planned, and Dad had been there to save her from banishment. Usually, if a woman failed, she was then kicked out of The Community and her magic was stripped from her and given to the other families. With each generation our magic was spread out thinner and thinner. Giving failing members' magic to those remaining helped strengthen it. It was a harsh reality, but necessary for what The Community had to accomplish.

A rare few who had failed however, were allowed to stay to fill the needs of The Community: appointed to be delivery girls, librarians, custodians, receptionists. Their magic was still stripped, but as long as they could still work, they were allowed to live under the protection of The Community. They were never allowed to marry or reproduce, however. 

The men had an easier time of it. They were soldiers, and their only worry was that if they weren’t very good soldiers—or in my Dad's case, too good of a soldier—their mortal lives would be cut short and they would be sent to Babylon with honors for serving Iwa’s purpose in keeping The Gate open.

“Yes, I have an appointment. The Elders scheduled it.” My voice held strong, thanks to my previous usage of magic to boost my courage.

The old woman’s eyes sparkled, half with resentment, half with fear. Failing was no easy thing to live with. It set you as the lowest of lows amongst Community members. It was nearly an unforgivable offense to have been blessed with such a great gift and then to have squandered it by failing.

“So it’s your Trial Day then. Name, please.”

“Addison Henry.”

The woman typed furiously on the Keyboard and then gazed at the computer screen as she scrolled down with her mouse, clicking things at seemingly random intervals.

“Yes, I have you right here. Addison Henry, Trial Day, 9:05am. You are ten minutes early which is always a good thing to be. You’ll be meeting with Under-Magister Cohen today and Elder council number three. Good luck, Addison. Please take the elevator to level six and they will assist you upon arrival. Your mother is to wait here for you until you finish.”

The receptionist handed me a little bronze key attached to a big block of wood that had ‘Property of the Capitalis’ written on it with a black Sharpie. I took the key from her, hiked the duffle bag further up my shoulder and turned around to say goodbye to my Mom.

We stared at each other for some time, just looking into one another’s eyes, giving each other strength, courage, and hope in a gaze of two people who were close enough that no words needed to be said to convey what we felt.

“You’ll be great, baby. I have every confidence in the world in you.” 

Mom’s face was gentle; she was smiling at me with her eyes but not her lips. Her hand came up and tucked a curled strand of my short, pale blonde hair behind my ear before stroking her finger across my cheek and down to my chin so she could move my face up, holding my head high for me for a few seconds until I had to do it on my own.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Addison.”

I gave her a brief hug, scared to hold on for too long or else I wouldn’t be able to let go. Then I turned away from her, put the key in the slot beside the elevator and stepped inside as the doors opened. I put the key in again on the inside and pressed the button for the sixth level. My eyes glanced up at my mother’s as the doors were closing, and I saw her give me one last tentative smile before they closed and I made my descent.

As soon as I was in the elevator, I hastily set my duffle bag down and went to work. I smoothed my hair one last time, making sure no strands were sticking to my shirt. I unzipped the jacket I had thrown on and straightened my plain tee shirt. I checked everything from wrinkles on my jeans to rips in my duffle bag, to making sure my short boots were securely fastened on my feet. Everything seemed fine. I hastily checked and felt my wrist for the hair band there and then pulled my thin hair into a small ponytail at the middle of my head. My long bangs hung in my eyes but that would be a hazard I had to deal with. I swooped them over to one side and prayed that the curls would help make them stay there.

The elevator arrived at the sixth floor with a brightly chirped ding. The doors stuttered open and revealed the room I was to wait in for the next seven and a half minutes. It was decorated more darkly than the waiting room upstairs had been. Green wallpaper covered the walls and had white floral patterns drawn on it. Heavy gold picture frames ran around almost the entire midsection of the walls and varied in size and grandiosity. The floor was a faded dark wood and two chandeliers hung from the ceiling providing the majority of the lighting.

A dark wood desk sat directly in front of me. I reached down and grabbed the sturdy handle of the duffle bag and stepped out of the elevator. Apprehensively, I crossed the floor to reach the desk where an apprentice Elder—a young man about fourteen years of age—sat making notes on a yellow legal pad. As I approached, I realized they weren’t notes, but a love letter to a girl apparently named Bernice. The boy jumped as I cleared my throat and hastily covered his letter with a white sheet of paper—this one looked more like a schedule.

“Name.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, but at this point in time I wasn’t offended by it.

“Addison Henry.”

The boy made a check mark on the paper and turned it over. “Take a seat please. Under-Magister Cohen is just finishing up.”

I did as instructed and headed to a brown leather couch which sat against the left-side of the room. On the opposite wall from me was a large flat screen showing a popular television show in The Community called ‘Easy Is the Descent’. It was a humorous sit-com that took place in Gomorrah City right outside Babylon City, which was the main city in Iwa’s realm of Babylon where Iwa kept a residence. The show had to do with a woman who was pretending to be a man in Iwa’s army. At first, she had been an outcast, but as she proved her masterful abilities with weapons the men had started going to her for help, and talking to her about problems they had with their Bond Mates, like impotence for example—that had been a funny episode. It was getting toward the end of the season and the woman was very nearly discovered by her captain, yet her identity had remained a secret so far.

Just then, the door on the right-side of where the desk sat opened and a young girl no older than me walked out. Her eyes red and tears streaking down her face, she was covering her mouth with one of her hands and the other hand was trailing the scorched and smoldering remains of—what I supposed had once been—a duffle bag behind her. Without saying anything the girl crossed the room to the elevator, shakily put her key in and waited for the doors to open, sobbing quietly.

I swallowed hard and clutched my duffle bag to my chest. The next thing I knew a middle-aged man dressed in dark Elder’s robes emerged from the same door the young girl had just exited holding a clipboard.

“Addison Henry.”

I stood up slowly, my legs shaking slightly. He made eye contact with me briefly and then motioned me with his hand to follow him. The first step was the hardest one to take, but after that, it became easier.

The Elder was holding the door open for me and I slid passed him, attempting to not even brush his robes. When I was within the door he let it slowly shut and then stepped in front of me, leading me down a narrow hallway decorated after the same fashion as the waiting room, except small wall lights were placed about every five or six feet along both sides of the walls.

Once we reached the end of the hallway, the Elder opened the door and again motioned me with his hand to step inside. Diffidently, I stepped past the threshold and looked into the room—it was a large circular room with a high ceiling. The walls were made of cement blocks and the floors were black tiled squares with large water grates positioned in various places. A ring of windows ran around the top of the high domed ceiling, letting sun stream in from the outside, giving the room its only light. A single straight back wooden chair sat in the center of the room facing an impressive row of large podiums, each with a person in a cushy seat sitting behind them.

There were thirteen podiums in all, twelve for the Elders of the third council and the center podium for Under-Magister Cohen. His podium was taller than the rest, and wider. The Elder who had led me into the room walked past me and around the other podiums to take his place five seats in on the right, next to his other brethren.

Under-Magister Cohen was a large man with a brown beard peppered in grey and short-cropped hair. He was dressed in black robes with a symbol decorating the left breast. I couldn’t make out the symbol from where I still stood by the door, but I knew what it was from all the research I had done. Decorating all the Elder’s robes was a serpent meant to represent the symbolic form of Iwa on the earth. Decorating the Under-Magister's was a tree to represent the tree of knowledge of good and evil with which Iwa had tempted Eve. And decorating the Magister’s robes was a coat of arms. There were four sections to the coat of arms: the top-left had a hand facing forward, a sign of our devotion, the top-right had a broad sword, a sign of the war, the bottom-left had a black gate, a sign of what we fought for, and the bottom-right had a crown, a sign of who we fought for.

“Please place your duffle bag under the chair in the middle of the room and be seated,” Under-Magister Cohen said. He was currently writing some notes down in a black binder. His voice was deep and husky.

I jumped a little at hearing the echo across the chamber but then quickly walked to my seat, placed my duffle bag beneath it, and sat promptly down, laying my hands in my lap and interlocking my fingers so I wouldn’t fidget.

Under-Magister Cohen wrote for a few seconds more, then capped his pen and closed the binder, handing it to the Elder on his left while the Elder on his right handed him a new black binder. He opened it and gazed down at what was in front of him.

“Addison Henry, you have been called by this, the third council of the Elders, to be examined. This is to be your Trial Day where we, the council, will determine whether your knowledge of our society, our history, and your physical powers and abilities make you worthy of being received as a bride. I, Under-Magister Cohen, will be evaluating you, and if your abilities are deemed suitable I will direct you to the next stage of the examination which will be a physical demonstration headed by one of our Magisters. During this portion of the exam, you are allowed three pieces of scratch paper, one pencil and one snack and drink of your choosing. Have you any questions before we begin?”

Under-Magister Cohen turned the page of the binder and looked up at me for the first time. His face was smooth, but wrinkles were beginning to show around his eyes and the middle lines of his forehead. He wore reading glasses, which I hadn’t noticed before, and his nose was slightly crooked—though it seemed more like a genetic trait than the cause of an accident or injury.

I cleared my throat to make certain it wouldn’t squeak. “Yes, Under-Magister. Am I allowed to use magic on myself during the exam? For example, right now I am using a spell to strengthen my resolve in order to ease my nerves.”

Under-Magister Cohen looked at me for a second, seemingly surprised that I had actually asked a question, or at least one he hadn’t already heard hundreds of times before from other girls sitting in this chair. “You are allowed to use spells upon your emotions, but not upon your mind. Spells to enhance your memory or to recall something you may have read, and so on are prohibited. The council and I will have knowledge of what spells you use, even if you use one non-verbally, therefore…oh just try not to cheat.” Under-Magister sighed. It seemed like he had been having a long day, and was getting tired with all the formality. He had, at one point, been a soldier, after all. I’m sure a job requiring him to sit all day was a bit of a hard adjustment to make.

I nodded at him and then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, dropping my shoulders slightly as I tried to release what tension I could. “I’m ready.”

“Very well.” Under-Magister Cohen uncapped the pen then, looked down at the binder, marked something, and then turned the page. “Miss Henry, this portion of your Trial Day is to simply test your knowledge. Of course, we are interested in your physical abilities but we believe that a mind dedicated to understanding the why and the reasons is a more cautious, and therefore a more dependable mind. For this portion of the exam, we, the third council, and I, Under-Magister Cohen will ask you a series of questions pertaining to spell casting, ingredients for spell casting, or the origin or history of a particular topic, and will require you to verbally give us as thorough an answer as you can.”

Under-Magister Cohen turned the page again. “Please explain, if you can, why the nectar of nightshade is used, in part, to create a strengthening draught.”

There it was. The first question. The first sign given to me to know if all my hours of studying had paid-off, and for now at least, it did. The endless nights of my Mom quizzing me over the dinner table paid-off too. My mind recalled the conversation, even recalled on which page of which book the information could be found. It wasn’t an easy first question to be asked, unless you were someone who had spent the better part of their life so far looking for all the answers.

I took a deep breath. “The nectar of nightshade is used, in part, to create a strengthening draught because the harder the trial you overcome, be it physically, mentally, or even spiritually, the more your endurance or your strength grows. The draught weakens the body first, but then creates stronger cells within the body to fight more aggressively. This draught was created by Head Magister David in 1321. This tactic was later installed within the soldier training programs. Pit the soldier against a seemingly fatal task but give him the knowledge of how to overcome it and allow his knowledge to incite his body to victory. This method was called the Nightshade Effect and was created by Under-Magister Laban in 1573. The humans have now even adopted the Nightshade Effect in what they refer to as vaccinations.”

By the time I was finished the entire council, including the Under-Magister, was staring at me with neutral, possibly even bored expressions from their places behind their podiums. I started shrinking in my seat, running over and over again in my head what I had said and comparing it to the information I remembered reading. I had gotten the answer right, right? Had I recalled the wrong thing? Had I spoken too much? Too little?

Under-Magister Cohen cleared his throat and turned another page of the binder after checking something off. My fear was growing. “Please indicate the principal rune in a circle of oxygen used when underwater.”

I was about to answer right away but caught myself at the last minute. The rune I was about to say was the principal rune in the circle of oxygen used when in a fire. Grateful for my caution, I took several deep breaths and quickly adjusted my answer. “The principal rune used in a circle of oxygen when underwater is Perthro.”

The Elders leaned their heads forward and Under-Magister Cohen marked the binder before turning the page, his expression looked almost angry. “Miss Henry, please explain the proper way to raise a ward.”

This question was trickier than the first had been. If you only read certain books, they would tell you one way to raise a ward, but if you kept reading, you would find that the most recent ways to raise a ward have changed from the past ways. Most students are encouraged to learn the past ways more than current changes since we are advised to learn to respect our predecessors and their sacrifice to bring us such knowledge. Not a lot of girls would have studied the most recent changes to information or spells in books, which would be required in order to answer this question correctly.

I debated for some time whether to go with the old information or the new. Finally, I thought, Which way would I use right now? and I had my answer.

“The proper way to raise a ward is to bind the ward to something permanent. Previously, the proper way was to bind a ward to a person, which method was created by Under-Magister Jarad in 1245; however, upon further study of wards the Magisterium has found that this places said person who the ward is bound with under danger because that person then becomes a target.

Under-Magister Priestly was the one who advised that from now on the ward be bound to a permanent object such as a particular part of the Earth or the moon during a certain phase, which provides the most security of the ward's success and longevity. He suggested this change in 1827 and since then we have found that, although the ward always remains with the inconstant aspect of whatever phase of Earth or with the Moon the spell was originally placed in, it can be taken down and put back up again at the spell-caster’s will. This extinguishes the need to recast the entire spell, which is what was needed to be done when the ward was bound with a person—whose physical health and mental state are almost constantly fluctuating, creating variables in each ward cast.”

I finished speaking and looked up at Under-Magister Cohen. He was looking at me peculiarly, like I was an especially interesting form of insect he had never seen before and didn’t entirely trust.

“Stand up, Miss Henry,” he said suddenly.

I was caught off guard. “W-what?” I stuttered nervously, thinking I had heard him wrong.

“Stand up,” he said again, rising from his seat himself.

I quickly scrambled out of my chair and stood on shaking legs. Had I gotten that question wrong, too? Were they going to kick me out here and now and not even let me finish my exam?

Under-Magister Cohen walked behind the row of podiums until he was on even ground with me. The other Elders all just stared. Every one of them had their fingers interlocked with their hands sitting on top of the podium. They were all leaning forward, gazing at me with interest.

Under-Magister Cohen began walking toward me and I tried not to cower, though I didn’t do a very good job at it. He was taller than I thought he had been; at least 6 foot 3 or 6 foot 4. Even at my 5 foot 9 inch height, I still had to look up at him considerably.

Under-Magister Cohen stopped directly in front of me, staring down at me through his spectacles.

“Step aside, please.”

I looked up at him, absolutely horrified. I took two steps to my right and then my legs wouldn’t move anymore, they were shaking too badly. Had I really done that poorly that they weren’t even going to let me finish?

In my head ran the image of my mother, her eyes so full of confidence and trust. Had all that feeling been wasted by its hopes being put in me? Were we to be cast out now? Mocked and ridiculed? Sent to acclimate to the human world or perish?

In my head also ran the image of my father, missing my mother and me so fiercely. We would never see him again if I failed. Disgraced sorcerers weren’t allowed in Iwa’s realm, only the honored war Heroes, Iwa’s spirits, and the brides of his spirits were allowed to live there after death.

Under-Magister Cohen continued walking up to my chair. I lowered my head. He would grab my duffle bag and show me out now. I wouldn’t get a second chance. He placed his hand on the head of the chair and stood there for a moment. I was trembling, tears were forming in my eyes. I turned toward him willing to give one last plea for my cause.

“Please Under-Magister Cohen, I can do better. Maybe I recalled the wrong information, or I can give you more information if you want. Please, I know I can do better.” My voice shook, my previous spell to control my emotions was null and void by now.

Under-Magister Cohen opened his eyes and took his hand off the back of the chair. He stood up, straightened his robe and turned to face me. He looked down at me again, though this time with much less severity than before. This time it was with resignation and another emotion I couldn’t identify; was it admiration? No, that couldn’t be it.

“No, Miss Henry, I seriously doubt you could do better.”

He walked past me and back toward his seat.

I stood there in shock. I wouldn’t get another chance. I had failed. I had failed my mother, and my father, and myself. All those hours of studying and practicing had been for nothing. I wasn’t going to be a bride. I wasn’t going to be honored. My family would never be whole again.

A tear streaked down my cheek. I kept standing with my back toward the council, facing my chair. I didn’t even have the strength to grab the duffle bag, I just slowly took one step toward the door, and then another.

“Miss Henry, if you would please return to your seat, I would like to continue with your examination.”

My head whipped around faster than my body could and I ended up stumbling and grabbing the chair for balance.

“W-what?” I couldn’t help but asking. I had been so sure that it was over, that I had failed.

Under-Magister Cohen had returned to his seat and was making notes in the black binder. He stopped writing and looked up at me briefly. “I asked if you would please return to your seat, your exam isn’t finished yet.”

Woodenly I fell down into my seat, still staring at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “But I thought . . .”

“I was checking to see if you were cheating, Miss Henry,” he interrupted. “I have been in this post for seven years and have never heard answers quite that thorough. It seemed logical that you were using an Act to recall book pages. I see now that your very mind is the book. So, since you are obviously not a cheat, I would like to proceed.”

I couldn’t speak, I could barely breathe. Was all this really happening?

“If that is all right by you, of course,” he asked, half mockingly, half in amusement.

I nodded my head furiously, closing my mouth and sitting up straighter in my chair. I was still too shocked to speak.

Under-Magister Cohen finished making the note on the page and then turned to the next one. “Please listen to the following list of ingredients to make a spell for healing a jagged wound in the amount of 1 serving and tell me which is incorrect. The ingredients are: 4 teaspoons Hazel nut, 2 and ¼ teaspoons Honeysuckle nectar, 3 tablespoons Knotweed, ¼ cup Moonlace, 1 and one half cups sugar water, 1 tablespoon cinnamon, and not to exceed 3 ounces distilled magic.”

It took me a moment to calm my mind enough to think. I thought about the list carefully even though I knew the one ingredient that was wrong right away. I made sure of my answer. “The recipe calls for ¾ cups sugared milk not 1 and ½ cups sugar water which is used to heal an infected wound.”

Under-Magister Cohen checked something and turned the page, but now I could recognize a small smile on his face.

“Please give us a detailed analysis of the First Great War and the participation of our race.”

I waited several long seconds before I answered, making absolutely sure that the information I recalled was correct.

This question was the trickiest of all, the information Under-Magister Cohen sought was scattered through dozens of sources and no two sources verified the other with repetition of the same facts. If you pieced together all the fragments, which I had painstakingly done, though, then a story bloomed. The story of my people’s history.

“Yes Under-Magister. In the beginning of existence, before the Earth, there was a sphere where pure energy gathered, which was called Ka. From this energy, intelligence was formed and from intelligence, eventually spirits were created. The spirits studied the universe and began to learn its power of creation. The first of these spirits to master the power of creation was called Ehwei—the Great Father. Ehwei used his power to form more perfect spirits, ones with individual identities, these he called his children. Ehwei then created the Earth. After he saw his wonderful creation, Ehwei knew he would need tenants for it, so he decided he would send down his more perfect spirits and grant them physical bodies. But he needed a way for man to be able to return to him and to the Ka again, because he loved his spirit children and did not want to be forever without them.

“Two brothers came forward with two separate plans. Their names were Jiyda and Iwa. Jiyda believed in man and wanted them to live a true human life. His plan involved giving man agency, the ability to choose for themselves their actions on Earth. Iwa saw man’s weakness and knew most of humanity would sin, thus forfeiting their eternity in Ka, for Ka is a space of purity 

and nothing impure can abide in it. Iwa’s plan called for a life without agency. No one would be able to make their own choices, so no one would be able to sin.

“Ehwei decided to choose Jiyda’s plan, choosing to believe in his children and creating a way for even those who sin to return to the Ka after death. Iwa thought Ehwei’s plan was cruel, causing unnecessary suffering to those on Earth who had to battle against their mortal natures and live a higher law. But Ehwei had made up his mind. Jiyda’s plan would be what took place on Earth.

"Not all of the spirit children agreed, though, and one third of Ehwei’s children preferred Iwa’s plan, foreseeing their suffering on Earth because of agency and turning away from that life. So the First Great War of Ka began, a war to see which plan the Earth would adopt.

“Iwa and his spirits were outnumbered and Iwa knew he was going to fail, so he appealed to another great spirit, one who had studied the universe alongside Ehwei and had formed something else from its tutelage. Her name has been hidden from records because of its sacredness, but in historical accords, she is referred to as Mother. Mother had discovered the secret of magic: Creation's own power. Mother had compassion on Iwa and gave him the secret of magic, but warned him that he would not be able to wield it once he was cast out of Ka, for magic needed a connection to Ka in order to be wielded. Mother also told him that Ehwei’s presence would be on Earth, and so Earthlings could wield magic. Iwa, cunning as he was, decided to give ten of his most trusted spirits the secret of magic so that they could disguise their true allegiances and feign support of Ehwei’s plan. When Iwa and the spirits that followed him lost the war and were cast out of Ka, the ten remained behind, practicing their magic secretly and waiting for the time when Ehwei would send them to Earth.

“Cain was the first of the ten chosen to come to Earth, and by Cain’s magic he slew Able, who had been sent to prevent Iwa’s influence from being let on the Earth, and opened The Gate. Before Iwa was cast out, he created a Gate on the Earth, a portal by which spirits and people could come into the Earth from a lower realm. Iwa sought to punish Ehwei and those who did not side with him, and so through The Gate he sent his spirits to bring about murder, war, disease, famine, and temptation to the world, showing to Ehwei the burden of agency and the weakness of men’s will in order to prove how quickly Ehwei’s children would turn away from him in the face of adversity.

“Iwa’s plan was discovered when Babylon became so corrupted it was completely devoid of Ehwei’s presence, so Ehwei cast Babylon off the face of the Earth. The city descended into Iwa’s realm, and has thus been used as the city where Iwa's spirits and children reside. The ten spirits have since come to Earth and by them The Gate has always remained opened for Iwa and his spirits to act out their holy vengeance.”

I finished speaking and reached underneath my seat, pulling my water bottle out from the special pouch I had on the side of the bag. I took three long swigs of water before I put the cap back on and turned my eyes to Under-Magister Cohen, who was smiling at me.

“Excellent, truly one of the most thorough recalls we have ever heard. Now tell us, Miss Henry, what is the mission of the ten families now?”

I tried not to sigh. I was getting a headache, but I knew this answer. I had actually been debating whether or not to include it with the previous question. “We, who are left now, are the offspring of the ten and are charged with the same holy mission: to keep The Gate open despite all the Holy men, Prophets, Missionaries, and spirits of Ehwei who try to close it. The Ten were given the true essence of magic. We, as their children, have the lesser essence and so the magic was chosen to go to the women to strengthen the magic they possess. Magic was preserved for Under-Magisters and Magisters as well, however, to stem the tide of rebellion, for we are corruptible beings because we have agency. It became the job of the men who possess no magic to become soldiers, battling on the Earth plane, and our women, who have graciously been given the lesser essence of magic become brides. The rest of the third who did not come to Earth and were cast out of Ka have never received bodies—which was a gift Ehwei gave his children when they were born on Earth. Out of the best of us women, we are chosen to go down to Iwa’s realm and be received as brides for his most loyal soldiers. We are then, with the aid of our magic, able to give bodies to spirit children and serve our master Iwa in his realm.”

“Very good indeed, child,” Under-Magister Cohen exclaimed. I felt like a china glass doll with a crack in my foundation. This trial had all my nerves and emotions fried. I was drained, and yet I still had physical demonstrations to perform. “I am very impressed at your study. It shows much for your worthiness.” Under Magister Cohen marked a few things down in the binder and then turned to the last page. “Having completed the intellectual portion of the examination you will now be asked to move on to physical demonstrations. Should you choose to continue, you will be guided to a waiting area where you will stay until Head Magister Levi is ready to receive you. You will then be instructed as to your tasks and receive further instruction as Head Magister Levi sees fit. Please take with you your black duffle bag, which was sent to you two weeks prior to your Trial Day, and leave behind any trash, scratch paper, or food you may have. Elder Issachar will show you to the next waiting room.”

Under-Magister Cohen folded his hands over the binder and looked into my eyes. “Good luck, child.”

I nodded my head at him and gave a half smile before I bent down, grabbed my duffle bag and hugged it to my chest. The Elder who had showed me in now stood-up from his seat and issued me with his hand to follow him.

I was amazed that my shaky legs allowed me to move from my seat, let alone walk across the room. My footsteps echoed loudly, and suddenly I regretted my heavy boots. They were the only things that could be heard in the room, that, and Under-Magister Cohen scratching away with his pen on the pages of the black binder.

The Practice of Magic

I walked out of the room and into another small hallway. This one was decorated in a pretty yellow pastel wallpaper with archaic symbols in picture frames sitting beneath lamps. I was happy with myself that I could properly name all of the symbols and remember their uses as runes in spells or summoning circles. Councilman Issachar opened the next door for me and ushered me in. My nerves were too fried to become any more anxious than I already was.

This room was different from the average waiting room I was expecting. Directly before me were three identical doors. One door sat on the right, one in the middle, and one on the left side of the wall. In front of each of the doors was a single couch. The middle couch had the most girls sitting on it, maybe five or six crammed onto the long leather seats, two were sitting on the couch on the left, which was a paisley, old-looking three-person sofa, and no one was sitting on the couch to the right—a cream and gold love seat.

“Please take a seat on that couch right there. Head-Magister Levi will send someone to collect you in a moment.”

I stood frozen. I looked up at Elder Issachar. “That couch?”

He merely nodded at me and gave me a little push forward on my back. I stumbled a little, the other girls turned their heads to look at me as I made my way to the couch on the right and sat down, alone.

I heard the door shut from where Elder Issachar exited. There was nothing in this room to distract me: no televisions, no radios, no books, and no magazines.

I took a throw pillow from the corner of the couch and hugged it to my chest after placing my duffle bag on the carpeted floor. This room had the same yellow pastel wallpaper with gold vertical lines running through it as the hallway. Bright lights in the ceiling glared down at us, spotlighting us as the objects in the room that should have the attention of whoever walked in, and casting harsh shadows on our faces, turning us almost freakish.

The girls on the other couches were whispering to each other, trying not to look at me. We all knew what the couches meant, one couch was for those of us who were going to be received as brides for Iwa’s servants, the greatest of honors, one couch was for those of us who were going to be received as brides for warriors here in The Community, and one was for those of us who had failed our exams and were going to have our magic stripped. If you failed your intellectual examination, there was no way you could be received as a bride for Iwa’s servants. The very best you could do was be received in The Community. No one knew which couch meant what since they changed the meaning of the couches after every Trial Day, but everyone could guess that to be sitting alone meant that I wasn’t safe. It was either a very good or a very bad thing. My palms started to sweat and my breathing turned erratic. Maybe they thought I was a cheat after all.

The door behind us opened and I turned in my seat to see another Elder escorting another panicked-looking girl about my age. She was a pretty brunette, short, with very pale skin. Her bag was shaking from where she hung on to it, and I could see tears brimming her eyes. She’s just like me, I thought. I didn’t understand how any one girl was supposed to make it out of this 

experience without some emotional scarring and tear-stained cheeks.

“Please take a seat on the couch to the right. Head-Magister Levi will be along to collect you shortly.” The Elder spun back around and shut the door behind him.

I sat in shock for a moment before I hastily scooted over to make room for my new companion on the love seat. I heard her footsteps—soft and light—hitting the carpet before I saw her at the edge of my vision placing her duffle bag down beside mine and then sitting down herself.

“That was torture,” she whispered breathily.

I was grateful she was brave enough to talk to me. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.

“I feel the same way. My name is Addison, by the way.” I stuck out my hand, but the other girl didn’t move hers from where they sat in her lap.

“Oh, I know who you are. I watched you studying at the library all the time. You inspired me to take Trial Day seriously. I used to hang out with Ali, Alexis, and Ashly Yates and all them. You know who I’m talking about?”

I was floored. I did know who she was talking about. Ali, Alexis and Ashly were triplets who, by any and all definitions, were major pains in any responsible person’s life. All they did when we were required to study at the library was giggle and flirt with boys and make fun of everyone else. They were vicious to me especially because I was the only person brave enough to study in front of them. Everyone else had been chased off by their teasing and had sought private nooks to

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 10.04.2017
ISBN: 978-3-7438-0685-6

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