The Dark Path Read online

  The Dark Path

  James M. Bowers

  Copyright © 2012 James M. Bowers

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Print ISBN:1470169479

  Print ISBN-13:978-1470169473

  DEDICATION

  For Stacy LaRae McCandless, who tried to bring out the best in me.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements i

  I Entry Tests

  II A Loaf Between Friends

  III Staff Training

  IV Run

  V The Dream

  VI The Challenge

  VII The Duel

  VIII The Journey Begins

  IX A Mysterious Book

  X The Village

  XI Duncan

  XII New Friends

  XIII The Green Candle Inn

  XIV New Beginnings

  XV The Forest

  XVI The Crow

  XVII The Summoning

  XVIII Dark Tides

  XIX Seven Years

  XX Chains of Command

  XXI Confessions

  XXII Elsewhere

  XXIII Darkness Rising

  XXIV Journey

  XXV The Devil Inside

  XXVI The Tests Begin

  XXVII Family

  XXVIII The Second War Begins

  XXIX The Army is Formed

  XXX Lessons Learned

  XXXI Homecoming

  XXXII No Mercy

  XXXIII Awakening

  XXXIV Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Too many names to put here. This has been a project of mine for a very long time. Almost everyone I've ever known has helped me with this in some way. So thank you, to everyone. Without all of you, this book would never have been possible.

  I

  Entry Tests

  A small, thin boy sat at the edge of the forest. A well trod path led away from him and to the high stone walls of the Schola. He had followed his Master's instructions and arrived here on time. A light mist fell from a mostly cloudless sky. The trees blocked a lot of the water where he stood. The journey through the wood had been uneventful. He had slept in trees for the most part, not wanting the attention a fire would bring. The few travelers he had seen hadn't noticed him. He took a deep breath and took his first step toward his new life. The doors opened slightly at his approach and he wondered who had opened them when he saw a woman in dark red robes standing inside the gate. He bowed to her and stood quietly.

  “What is your business here?” The woman's voice was high pitched and slightly nasal. She looked down upon the small boy in distaste. His clothes were well worn and of cheap cotton. He bore a small pack upon his back and what looked to be a wooden sword in his belt, though she didn't recognize its shape. He wore no shoes and his feet were thick with dirt and callouses.

  “I was sent here for training, Ma'am,” Gen stated flatly.

  “Name and age please.” She withdrew a small book and a marking stick from a pouch on her belt.

  “Gen Hothman. I am twelve years old, Ma'am.”

  “Any previous training in magic?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Very well then. Come with me.” She turned to the right and into a small building beside the gate.

  The building held only one room and no windows. It was lit along the ceiling by what Gen assumed was magic. Most of the room was filled with a large, heavy, wooden table. Upon the table sat various objects, some mundane and others that Gen had never seen before. He studied them closely. The tall woman sat in the only chair in the room across from Gen.

  “You may place your bag beside the door.” She straightened the objects, cleaning dust from them. Gen placed his pack beside the door then returned to resume his place. The woman finished her organizing and looked back up to him. “Can you read, Boy?”

  “Yes, Ma'am.”

  “Good, that will save us some time.” She chanted some nonsensical phrases and words appeared before each of the items. They seemed to use the same alphabet he was used to, but Gen had never seen words like these.

  “Ma'am, I do not know how to pronounce these words.”

  “I will tell you the purpose of each one and how to say it.”

  “Thank you, Ma'am.”

  “The first spell here, before the candle, is a simple one. Its purpose is to light the wick of the candle. I will read the spell to you and then you are to repeat it back while focusing on the candle wick.” She read the strange words and the candle lit. She snuffed it quickly with her fingers. “Now you do it.”

  Gen repeated the words while focusing on the candle. He visualized the candle coming to light as it had done before. He felt a tingle as energy rushed out of him and to the candle. The wick first began to smoke then burst into a small flame. Gen sighed in relief.

  “Good.” She snuffed the candle again and moved it aside. The next object was a glass globe, half full of water, with a small bit of cork floating in the middle. “This next spell will move the piece of cork.” She spoke more strange words and the cork inside the globe spun slowly. She squinted her eyes a bit and the cork came to a stop once more. “Now you.”

  Gen repeated the words and again felt the energy trickle out of him. The cork bobbed up and down in the globe. He focused and visualized it stopping, and after a short time, it did.

  “Good. You have shown to have some very basic talent. This next test will determine if you will be allowed to study here or not.”

  “Very well, Ma'am. What is it that I am to do?” A bit of fear crossed Gen's mind. The Master had said nothing of tests. He must not fail. His orders said nothing of failure.

  “This next test will be for focus and stamina.” She motioned to a metallic ball the size of Gen's head. “The next spell will levitate this ball into the air. The spell takes continuous energy and focus to keep it active. You are to keep it held off the table for as long as possible.”

  “How long do I have to maintain it to pass the test, Ma'am?”

  “Just hold it there for as long as you can. After, I will tell you if it was enough.” She chanted the spell and the ball rose up gently to hover a few inches off the table. A few seconds later she sat the ball gently back upon the table. Gen noticed she had small beads of sweat on her forehead, though she ignored them. She motioned to the ball and sat back in the chair, her chin held high. “Now you.”

  Gen chanted the words and felt the magic start to trickle out of him, unlike with the other spells, the trickle didn't stop. He focused on the ball and saw it shake and rock a bit but it didn't lift. He re-focused and felt the trickle of energy flowing out of him grow stronger. The ball slowly rose off the table. It stopped after a few inches. Gen's head started to feel light. His feet started going numb. He blocked them out. He must not fail this. He let everything else fade away. Only the ball mattered. His vision began to slowly grow dark around the edges. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he fought to keep them open. Sweat poured down his face and burned into his eyes, but he blocked it out. His eyelids stopped obeying him and started to close. The ball began to wobble in the air. “No!” He shouted and slammed his left hand, open palm, upon the table. He drew his eating knife from his belt and before he could think twice, stabbed it down through his hand and into the table. The pain did the trick. He used it to keep his focus on the ball. The ball stopped wobbling. He thought he heard the Mage across from him say something, but the only thing he could hear was the pumping of his heart in his ears. A few seconds later, the pain was no longer keeping h
is focus. He felt the energy in him lessening and saw the ball wobble again. He reached into himself for more of that energy. It was too soon. He would not fail this. He dug deep and found his anger. He hadn't let himself be angry for a very long time now. He ripped open the door in his mind to his anger and let it rush out, focusing it to the ball.

  Something was going very wrong here. The boy should have failed this after a second or two. They all failed. No untrained child had the focus for this kind of spell. That was the purpose of it. Success was determined by the number of seconds the ball was in the air. Most topped out at two. Some especially bright students had been known to keep the ball aloft for five seconds. It had been at six seconds when this child had shouted and done something unheard of. The boy had slammed his hand on the table. This had been tried before to keep focus, and did not surprise her. Usually the students did some physical act around the four second mark. She had shouted to stop him when she saw him with the knife, but it had been too late. The boy stuck the small blade through his hand; she had no idea why. Pain should be a distraction from the spell, not a focus. At ten seconds, she had seen his eyes go distant. She expected the ball to drop, as it had started wobbling violently. It didn't drop though. The room started growing cold. She felt the energy start to be drawn out of her, and then the magical lights had gone out. She brought up her personal shields and stopped the drain. She got her light spell out just as the glass globe shattered on the table. The water flowed out of it and underneath the metal ball. Her light spell dimmed as the magic was pulled from it, and she had to cast it again and shield it. The boy's eyes had rolled up into his head and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Silver and blue energy arced all around the child. It was channeled through him and to the metal sphere. The water under the sphere grew as moisture was pulled from the air. Finally, it solidified into shards of ice, starting at the table and angling up to the sphere. The ball settled down onto the shards and came to a rest. A second later the boy collapsed mostly to the floor with his hand still pinned to the table. It had all happened in just under a minute. In the next second, the door had burst open and an old man with a long gray beard stepped into the room.

  “What happened?” His eyes took in the room. Master Elise stood back in the corner of the room, a look of horror on her face. He saw the metal sphere upon the table, suspended on its stand of ice. The boy, hanging from his impaled hand, lay crumpled to the floor. He walked to the table and withdrew the knife. A quick healing spell and the boy's hand was whole once more. The boy had a pulse and was breathing regularly. The Mage stood and crossed to Master Elise. He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and shook her. It didn't take long till her eyes came back into focus. “What happened? I felt this from my office!”

  “Headmaster! The boy. He's a monster.” Her tone was flat, her eyes still wide with fear. She grasped his hand and pressed it to her forehead. The Headmaster lifted some of his defenses and took in the memories she projected to him.

  “Thank you, Elise. Go home and rest. I will take over your classes for today.” She began to protest but he stopped her. She finally left the room, her eyes never leaving the metal ball. He chanted a short spell and studied the room again. Nothing glowed. He frowned and chanted a longer spell. This time there was only a faint glow coming from the shards of ice under the sphere. “Interesting.” He ended the spell and bent to pick the boy up. The boy was very thin, nothing but muscle and bone. He opened the door with magic and levitated the boy's pack to follow him as he left the small testing room. His head filled with questions, but they could wait.

  Gen opened his eyes to see a strange ceiling above him. It was built of strong, open rafters. He felt himself lying on a soft bed.

  “Good, you are awake.” The deep voice came from his right side and Gen cursed himself for forgetting his training. He tried to leap to the left so he would land off the bed and use it for cover. Instead, his body twitched and filled him with pain as every muscle instantly ached. He let a small moan escape before he clamped his mouth shut on it. When no attack came from his right, he slowly let his eyes travel to that side so he would at least see his death when it came for him. He saw an old man sitting beside his bed. His head was bald; a long gray beard reached his waist. He wore thick gray robes. He held a steaming cup of liquid in his long fingered hands.

  “I would imagine you feel worse than you have ever felt in your life.” The old man chuckled a bit.

  “Not quite that bad, Sir.” Gen managed to force out. His throat felt like he had been eating and swallowing broken glass.

  “Can you manage to sit up?” The old man looked down at Gen, a sad look in his eyes.

  “Yes, Sir.” Gen gritted his teeth and pushed the pain of his muscles away as he forced himself to sit up and prop himself against the headboard. The effort took him much longer than he had thought and left him winded. He cursed himself under his breath for his weakness.

  “Here. Drink this. It will help some.” The old man handed him the mug of hot liquid. It took Gen three tries before his hands obeyed him enough to hold the mug. He forced himself to take a drink and felt it soothe his throat. Its warmth seemed to spread through him, easing his muscles a bit.

  “Sir, did I pass?” Gen stared at his mug. The last thing he remembered was stabbing his hand to keep his focus. His hand was whole and held no scar. Had he dreamed it?

  “Oh yes. You passed the test.”

  “But how, Sir? I don't remember what happened. I must have passed out. I only held the sphere for a few seconds.” Gen looked up and met the old man's eyes.

  “You only had to hold it there for a few seconds. I'm afraid Master Elise wasn't clear enough in her directions to you. I will have words with her about that later. You drained yourself near to death in there. Most students don't have that much control over themselves at your age. It seems that we must redesign the test so that something like this never happens again.”

  “Oh.” Gen looked back down at the mug and found it easier to take the second drink. He had made it. He let himself relax a bit now. His Master would be pleased.

  “Rest here for as long as you need. I have business to attend to. Try to get more sleep. Your body needs to recover.” The old man got up slowly and left the small room. Gen finished the drink and drifted back to sleep, his thoughts, for once, on the future instead of the past.

  Gen woke hours later. He kept his breathing regular and listened closely. He didn't sense anyone near so he opened his eyes. The evening sun shone through the lone window in the small bedroom where he still lay. Slowly, he tried to sit up. His muscles were still sore but not intolerable. He sat up fully and looked around the room. The floor was bare flagstone and simple. The bed he sat upon was the only piece of furniture in the room other than the single chair beside it. The walls were undecorated plaster. Simple, gray curtains hung beside the window, parted to let in the light. His pack sat upon the lone chair in the room, a small sheet of paper upon it. He reached for the paper and read it carefully.

  Gen Hothman,

  Your room is number seven in the east wing of the boys' dorm. Classes begin after breakfast in the morning. Breakfast is held at dawn and announced by three bells. Do not be late to class. You will find your schedule and a simple map upon the back of this note. I look forward to your success at the Schola.

  Headmaster

  Gen turned the note over and read the schedule. He had three classes scheduled throughout the week. He studied the map till he was sure it was set in his mind, then folded and placed it into his pack. He went through the pack but it looked as though it hadn't been touched. His coins were still there as well as the note from his Master. The rest of the pack was filled with a change of clothes and some left over rations from his trip. He put the pack on his back and headed for the door when he noticed what was missing. His bokken as well as his eating knife weren't on his person. He never went anywhere without his bokken unless his Master told him so explicitly. He looked frantically around
the room, but didn't see it anywhere. He must have left it at the small building by the gate. He eased open the door and listened but heard no one in the hallway outside of the room. He quickly found the exit to the small house and stepped out into the evening air. He studied the buildings around him till he got his bearings in relation to the simple map. It didn't take him long to get to the testing building. He saw no one on the way.

  The building wasn't locked and he found his knife beside a large bloodstain on the table. He looked to the metal sphere upon the heavy wooden table. It sat in the middle of a puddle of water. The glass globe that had been beside it was shattered into tiny pieces. What had happened here? Gen shrugged and put his knife back in his belt sheath. He found his bokken in the corner behind the door and placed it back in his belt where it belonged. He stepped out of the building to find three boys waiting for him out front.

  “You must be the new boy they were talking about in class.” The boy that spoke stood in the middle and slightly in front of the others. He stood a head taller than Gen and wore beige robes. He had blond hair, cut very short in an almost military style. The other two boys were more Gen's height. Both wore robes the color of dirt. They had dirty faces with cocky expressions underneath.

  “Yes.” Gen bowed slightly to the boys, his eyes never leaving the bigger boy in the center, and made to walk around them.

  “My name is Aaron Glormand.” The big boy stepped forward and reached out his hand in greeting, a smile on his lips. Gen took the hand to shake. He saw the blow coming but his sore muscles wouldn't react correctly. He managed to only pull back slightly before the fist crashed into his nose. Gen heard his nose break and felt the pain flash through him. He gritted his teeth and quickly shut it out. He felt the blood flow down his face. He finished the handshake and took his hand back. Gen smiled through the blood. He let it run, unabated into his mouth and over his teeth.