14 – Fiery Reception

The boy approaching them had a discordant face. He had a hooked nose, thin lips, and eyes that looked slightly sunken in. Yet, he walked with an air of importance, the fine cloudsilk of his robes announcing him as Noble born. The robes didn’t look like the standard-issue ones Arielle had been given. Yes, they were black with a white trim and a single golden braided cord at the left sleeve, authenticating him as a first-year. However, the material was different, and the hems had dark brown detailing on it, like tiny shaved rocks stamped onto the fabric.

His uniform isn’t the same as mine or Lyra’s, Arielle thought. Noble-born students must have a different uniform, or they might be allowed to alter their uniform to better indicate their clan.

Ari could tell immediately that the boy had a Massa lean, simply from the color of the orbs dancing around the tip of his drawn wand. Massa-Calor to be specific. As he walked, he ticked his wand from side to side, and tiny sparks set off on the end.

Lyra moved quickly, standing beside Ari as she faced the other boy. She executed a quick bow. “Good afternoon, Faulkey.”

“Lyra. Who’s your friend?”

Lyra was slow to answer, so Arielle responded in her stead.

“I’m Arielle Blacksoil,” she said distractedly, while observing Lyra. Why had the other girl bowed? Was Faulkey a Master? He didn’t seem like one, and he was only a first-year.

She wished she had activated her EPUQ so she could pull up his preliminary screen to know for sure.

“Arielle Blacksoil.” Faulkey tested the name on his tongue. “You’re a new student?”

“Yes. I arrived today.”

“Where are you from?”

“Fenway Basin.”

He made a face. “You’re a swamp rat? A bog blood?”

“Technically, yes, but those words are slurs for Mossbornes. You shouldn’t use them, and I won’t answer to them again.”

His lips twitched with humor, but it didn’t seem to be the pleasant type. Or perhaps he simply didn’t have a pleasant face.

Most distractingly, Lyra shifted to stand in front of her as though using her body to shield Arielle.

Strange.

“Well, Arielle,” Faulkey said. “Did they not teach you to greet your superiors at the swamp?”

“They did. We greet our superiors with a firm handshake, a hand over the chest, or a bow, depending on their station. The bow must also have the right hand over the chest as a sign of utmost respect.”

“Well?” He gestured lazily with his wand. “Go ahead.”

She blinked. “There are no superiors here.”

His nose flared, eyebrows cutting down over his eyes like harsh bushy slopes.

“You’re looking at a superior,” he said.

“No,” Ari said. “I’m looking at you.”

That got a cough out of one of Faulkey’s companions, which caused Faulkey to glare at the boy.

The boy grinned and put two hands up, and Faulkey turned his glare back to Arielle.

“My father is Elias Stonewarden. Do you know who that is?”

She refreshed her memory of social studies at the school yard. The Stonewardens were an important noble clan in a place called Stonehold, a race of wealthy merchants who controlled much of the commerce in the city and protected the periphery, controlling the flow of goods in and out.

She didn’t know who Elias Stonewarden was precisely, but if he was a member of such a wealthy clan, then it made sense for Faulkey’s robes to be made of such expensive material.

The boy seemed to be waiting for her answer, so she offered a lucky guess. “Is he the Patriarch of the Stonewarden clan of Stonehold?”

“Precisely.”

Ari nodded. She was happy she’d gotten it right.

“I’m his second son,” Faulkey said. “And third in line to take over the High Seat.”

“Okay,” Arielle said.

Faulkey raised his eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

“So…”

“So what?”

“Just bow.” Lyra suddenly bit out.

“Why? He’s not a Master or an Archmage.”

“Not yet,” Faulkey said. “But I’m going to be.”

Ari assessed him from head to toe, trying to sense his power. She couldn’t really detect his core capacity and refinement just from looking at him, but nothing about him signified Archmage potential, and since there were such stringent limits on the number of Archmages, the odds were certainly not in his favor.

“Probably not,” she said. “Adept seems like a more likely goal for you.”

Suddenly, his face reddened in fury. “How dare you?” His words exploded out of his chest, and Ari flinched.

She glanced from his flaming face to that of his wide-eyed companions and finally to Lyra’s slack jaw.

Ari felt like she was missing some important context.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“You insult me and ask if you said anything wrong?” Faulkey’s voice echoed, and Ari cocked her head.

Strange. She hadn’t insulted him. She had merely shared her assessment of a situation.

Was he upset by her stating facts? But the facts weren’t wrong.

Although Celie often told her that it didn’t matter if something was wrong or right, as even the right thing could hurt feelings.

But she hadn’t even said anything hurtful. There was no insult, no name-calling in any single statement she’d made.

So what had set him off?

This is so frustrating. I wish I could read minds.

She should probably just stop talking and leave the scene for everyone’s good.

But when she tried to walk away, he grabbed her arm and spun her back.

“Faulkey,” Lyra extended a hand. “She…she didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it?” His dark eyes blazed brighter with his obvious fury. “You think I’m just going to let that go?”

“She’s all arrogant because she’s a mid-year admit.” The words were drawled by the same boy who’d laughed at Faulkey. “She thinks she’s special.”

“I am special,” Ari clarified. Elric had told her extensively, by definition, how special she was.

Faulkey scoffed. “Oh, you’re special, alright. I’ll show you something special.”

He swung his wand to her face and said the words, “[Emberstrike].”

There was a two-second hold before the sigil sluggishly formed in the air.

The orbs danced into a pattern, a star surrounded by a Massa-ring stabilizer, incorporated with another Luxa ring for targeting.

This level of complexity indicated it was probably a Tier 4 spell, which was impressive for an initiate. Or whatever he was.

“Duck!” Lyra screamed and grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the way.

Right as she did, Ari visually tugged one of the Massa particles from the spell form.

Thwack!

The backlash knocked Faulkey off his feet, and he landed in a sprawl on the ground.

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“Faulkey!” His companions shouted as they surrounded him.

Ari was worried for a second that she’d injured him grievously, but then he groaned, and she gave a sigh of relief.

She would need to adjust her methods when it came to spell disruption. Backlash could be very harmful not only to the casting mage but also to the people around them. Obviously, Faulkey’s spell wasn’t powerful enough to harm anyone except himself, but the backlash from the Phasewalker’s spell, for example, could have injured quite a few people in the market if they’d been present.

Ari could disrupt the spell while holding the essences in place, or if there were too many, she could otherwise shield innocent bystanders from the effects.

“Blast it!” Faulkey exclaimed as he got to his feet, pushing off his friends.

“Did you just mess up the spell?” one of them laughed.

“No, I didn’t.” He glared at Ari. “You must have done something.”

“How? She didn’t even have her wand out.”

“She was staring at me.”

“Yeah, staring at you being an idiot and messing up your spell.”

The third boy laughed, and as they bickered, the air between them shimmered and rippled.

A tall woman in an exceptionally fitted white robe appeared out of nowhere, causing all of them to jump back.

“Children…” The stern-faced woman walked forward as she assessed them. “Did I just happen upon an unsanctioned duel?”

“No,” Faulkey answered quickly. “I was just…”

“You were what? Attempting to bully the new student.” Her tone was soft, but her grey eyes were cold, and her features severe enough that she was incredibly intimidating to look at. “That kind of behavior is unacceptable, Young Lord Stonewarden. Not to mention utterly disgusting to any rational mage’s moral code.”

“She insulted me first!”

“Did she?”

“She called me an untalented hack.”

“And you decided to prove her right by failing at a spell that’s merely an extension of your bloodline trait.”

His face flushed.

“You will receive four demerit points for your actions today,” she said.

“What?” Fauilky exploded again. “All that for a bog blood who probably won’t make it past the next severance trials anyway?”