Spellslinger (Spellslinger #1)(2)

I once read that other cultures use the word ‘oasis’ to describe a patch of fertile terrain in a desert, but a Jan’Tep oasis is something completely different. Seven marble columns towered above us, one for each of the seven forms of true magic. Inside the enclosed thirty-foot circle there were no trees or greenery, but instead a glimmering carpet of silver sand that, even when stirred by the wind, never left the boundary set by the columns. At the centre was a low stone pool filled with something that was neither liquid nor air, but which shimmered as it rose and fell in waves. This was the true magic. The Jan.

The word ‘tep’ means ‘people’, so it should tell you how important magic is to us that when my ancestors came here, like other peoples before them, they left their old names behind and became known as the Jan’Tep, the ‘People of True Magic’.

Well, in theory, anyway.

I knelt down and drew a protective circle around myself in the sand. Actually, ‘circle’ might have been a bit generous.

Tennat chuckled. ‘Well, now I’m really scared.’

For all his bluster, Tennat wasn’t nearly as imposing a figure as he imagined. True, he was all wiry muscle and meanness, but he wasn’t very big. In fact, he was as thin as I was and half a head shorter. Somehow that just made him meaner.

‘Are you both still determined to go through with this duel?’ Master Osia’phest asked, rising from a stone bench at the edge of the oasis. The old spellmaster was looking at me, not at Tennat, so it was pretty clear who was supposed to back out.

‘Kellen won’t withdraw,’ my sister declared, stepping out from behind our teacher. Shalla was only thirteen, younger than the rest of us, but already taking her trials. She was a better mage than anyone present except for Panahsi, as evidenced by the fact that she’d already sparked the bands for breath, iron, blood and ember magic. There were mages who went their whole lives without ever being able to wield four disciplines, but my little sister fully planned on mastering all of them.

So how many bands had I sparked? How many of the tattooed symbols under my shirtsleeves would glow and swirl when I called on the high magics that defined my people?

Zero.

Oh, inside the oasis I could perform the practice spells that all initiates learn. My fingers knew the somatic shapes as well or better than any of my fellow initiates. I could intone every syllable perfectly, envision the most esoteric geometry with perfect clarity. I was skilled at every aspect of spellcasting – except for the actual magic part.

‘Forfeit the duel, Kellen,’ Nephenia said. ‘You’ll find some other way to pass your tests.’

That, of course, was the real problem. I was about to turn sixteen and this was my last chance to prove that I had the calibre of magic worthy of earning my mage name. That meant I had to pass all four of the mage’s trials, starting with the duel. If I failed, I’d be forced to join the Sha’Tep and spend the rest of my life cooking, cleaning or clerking for the household of one of my former classmates. It would be a humiliating fate for any initiate, but for a member of my family, for the son of Ke’heops himself? Failure was inconceivable.

Of course, none of that was the reason why I’d chosen to challenge Tennat in particular.

‘Be warned, the protection of the law is suspended for those who undertake the trials,’ Osia’phest reminded us, his tone both weary and resigned. ‘Only those whose calibre gives them the strength to face our enemies in combat can lay claim to a mage’s name.’

Silence gripped the oasis. We’d all seen the list of past initiates who’d attempted the trials before they were ready. We all knew the stories of how they’d died. Osia’phest looked to me again. ‘Are you truly prepared?’

‘Sure,’ I said. It wasn’t an appropriate way to speak to our teacher, but my strategy required that I project a certain confidence.

‘“Sure”,’ Tennat repeated in a mocking whine. He took up a basic guard position, legs shoulder width apart and hands loose at his sides, ready to cast the spells he’d use for our duel. ‘Last chance to walk away, Kellen. Once this starts, I don’t stop until you fall.’ He chuckled, his eyes on Shalla. ‘I wouldn’t want the tremendous pain I’m about to inflict on you to bring any needless suffering to your sister.’

If Shalla had noticed Tennat’s childish imitation of gallantry she gave no sign of it. Instead she stood there, hands on her hips, bright yellow hair billowing gracefully in the wind. Hers was straighter and smoother than the dirt-coloured mop I struggled to keep out of my eyes. We shared our mother’s pale complexion, but mine was exacerbated by a lifetime of intermittent illnesses. Shalla’s accentuated the fine-boned features that drew the attention of just about every initiate in our clan. None of them interested her, of course. She knew she had more potential than the rest of us and fully intended doing whatever it took to become a lord magus like our father. Boys simply weren’t part of that equation.

‘I’m sure she’ll weather my screams of agony just fine,’ I said.

Shalla caught my glance and returned a look that was equal parts bemusement and suspicion. She knew I’d do anything to pass my trials. That was why she was keeping such close watch on me.

Whatever you think you know, Shalla, keep your mouth shut. I’m begging you.

‘As the student who has sparked the fewest bands,’ Osia’phest said, ‘you may select the discipline of magic for the duel, Kellen. What is your weapon?’