The Wizard's Academy

Prelude-

         A flash of black obscures the glowing angry red fire light for a moment.  Then with a roar that claws at one’s ears, the bright flames shifted into an evil reddish black.  A large shadow swirled into existence, like smoke, above the fire.  A hint of blood-red eyes gleamed from within the murky mist as the shadow writhed through the tainted air.

         “Dark lord of the Demons, I leave for the academy in two days.  Have you prepared the chamber?”  A tall darkly robed figure demanded from where he stood a stride away from the sinful blaze.  The fire stood in the center of a small clearing, sourounded by sickly weed trees.  The ground beneath the robed man’s feet was full of jagged rocks and sick thorny vines.  Even in the darkness it was plain that this place was a cursed one, full of dark and filthy plants.

         “Yesss, Mighty Evil one.  Kelton iss alsso prepard and leavess to join the wagonss thiss very night.  All of my Demonss are ready to be sssummoned at your command, My Lord.”  A low hissing voice stated proudly, the sounds coming from the the dark shadow hovering over the fire.  The hooded figure nodded in satisfaction.

         “I am pleased, dark one.  My plan will soon be put into motion and you will be rewarded.  I will call on you soon, be ready to answer.  Now leave me, and await my summons.”  The robed man commanded, raising a gloved hand.  A bolt of cold darkness leapt from his fist and struck the shifting mist, filling it with unholy power.

         “Ahhhh! Yesss!  Thank you, my Master.  I will be waiting eagerly for your call.”  It hissed in dark pleasure as it faded away into the night.  The fire flared once before tumbling into ashes, leaving the cursed clearing dark except for the faint glow of distant moonlight.

         Dimly the dark figure became somewhat visible in the weak light a gloved hand grasped the deep hood pulling it back.  A young handsome face was revealed, made terrible by the ugly scars that marred its features.  Dark hair tumbled from a high forehead, gleaming in the dim light.  The cruel, heartless look in the young man’s cold dark eyes made a fearful chill awaken all over one’s body.

         “The time is approaching swiftly, and my powers are growing.  Once my plan is put into motion, no one will be able to stop me from taking the glory that should already be mine!”  He crowed to the faint stars over head.

         Far away, on the Eastern side of a powerful nation, a young woman called Kaylent FireBird woke up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding with dread.


Chapter 1


         I stared into the darkness above me, my heart’s rapid pounding echoing in my ears.  Bile filled my mouth, stinging the back of my throat when I swallowed hard.
         Just a Nightmare.  Magic is not real.  I thought desperately to myself.  The sound of my heavy breathing seemed incredibly loud in the enclosed silence of my bed.

         This was the fifth night in a row that I had dreamed this nightmare, though the contents changed every night.  Each time fear fills my heart and somehow I know that if that man succeeded with his plans, darkness would shroud the sun and the world would be filled with suffering and demon fire.

         I sighed heavily and, sitting up, I reached out to par the thick silk curtains that hung around my bed.  Slipping out from under my thick woolen sheets, I lightly stepped down the small stair beside the bed, the carved wood rough and cold beneath my bare feet.

         My father, 4th Earl of Tranlor and FireBird providence, always had to have the finest furniture.  Even for his eldest daughter whom he scorned.  So my large bed was constructed of hand carved mahogany raised on exquisitely detailed legs to waist height off the floor. 

         The mattress was firm and stuffed with the finest feathers available.  The silk hangings were heavily embroidered with real silver and gold thread.  And the thick over-quilt was woven with the finest spun wool in the country.  I had viewed the whole thing as a pointless waste of money that could easily have gone to the indentured servants that were overworked and very underpaid.

         I gasped as my feet hit the ice cold tile that graced the floor around the canopy bed for a stride.  I quickly threw on my dressing gown and slid my chilled feet into fur lined slippers.  Even with a fire going in the huge hearth that filled half of the wall opposite my bed and every window bolted tightly shut, covered with heavy drapes, my room was always cold during the snowtolm or winter months.  Mostly it was because I had the only bedroom on the topmost level of the fortress, which was drafty anyway.

         Aside from the large bed, my room was rather sparsely furnished and quite small.  All I had as furniture was one large chair set near the broad hearth, a tall set of shelves filled to the overflowing with beloved texts and scrolls, a tall wardrobe, and a gilded vanity with a full sized mirror, a fare thing in of itself, and a cushioned chair.

         I hurried across the tile to the slightly warmer carpet that covered the remainder of the floor and sighed when the biting cold stopped nipping at my heels.  Wandering over to the finely carved vanity, I sat upon the cushioned stool set in front of the gilded mirror and gazed deep into the expensive polished glass.

         A lovely young woman stared back at me.  Large, emerald-green eyes were ringed by, lush lashes and the oval face was framed by bronze-red hair that curled untamed past her waist.  Instead of the usual pale complexion that commonly accompanies red hair, her skin was a golden color that spoke of long days out in the sun.  High cheekbones thinned out her face, and a stubborn chin gave her an air of a strong personality.  A full mouth lay under a pert nose, and thin eyebrows arched sassily over her eyes.  Life and a strong spirit sparkled in those eyes, and I sighed as I rubbed a hand over my face tiredly.

         Ever since I had started having these dreams, or rather nightmares, five nights ago, I have been unable to get a full night's rest.  The fear I have felt each time has lingered, and the troubling thought that what I had seen that particular night might be real has kept me awake for hours after the nightmare had faded.

         Since the time I collected eight years my parents had taught me that the legend of magic did not exist, that the fantastic tales about wizards with extraordinary abilities and sorcerers with amazing power were complete fiction, having no basis in fact.  My father had even beat it into me once when he had caught me pretending to do magic.  The thought that such things did not exist had become one of my main beliefs now, and any suggestion otherwise disturbed me.

         But the part of me that drove me to practice weaponry in secret (against my parents severe commands), to help the maids with their chores, to slip money to the servants that truly needed it, whispered magic did exist, told me that the stories were indeed true.

         I shook the troubling thoughts away and pulled open the top drawer of the vanity.  Reaching inside, I picked up the thick, leather-bound book that I stored there.  Opening it to a blank page, I picked up a fresh quill and recorded what I had seen and heard in the chilling nightmare.  Unlike most of my dreams, these stayed fresh and unusually clear in my mind for days afterward.  Only then did they begin to fade and blur.

         My task completed, I replaced the book and returned to my bed, the air rushing into my lungs as I passed over the icy tile.  Shoving my slippers under the bed, I hung my dressing gown on a peg that had been nailed into the wall beside the stair and quickly slid under the thick over-quilt.

         I settled into the firm mattress with a sigh after drawing the silk hangings closed.  Maybe tomorrow it would all finally become clearer.