Chapter One: The Fight

SHANTI struggled out of her practice armor, (which was really just cloth padding,) feeling as limp as a wrung out rag. Her aching muscles screamed in protest as she did her cooling down exercises, shunning any movement that did not include crumpling to the floor in exhaustion. Shanti’s mind knew that if she didn’t stretch after practice she would pull a muscle, but her body told her brain to go stuff it somewhere.

“Hey! Merlin!”

Shanti glanced around the room, although she doubted the voice was referring to her. She was surprised when the voice called out,

“Over here!”

The voice came from one of the adjoining courts. Shanti peered into it, and saw a tall, black haired boy, probably about fifteen years old. She recognized him as Kylian al Merra, one of the Ravens, in his second year at the Academy.

Ky motioned for her to come into the court. Shanti did so warily, for Ky had a reputation for being a troublemaker, and for picking fights.

Strange, she thought to herself, he doesn’t seem that sort to me. Shanti was cautious also because that day in mathematics she had corrected his mistake in front of the class. He had shot her a nasty glance, and, if the rumors were true, would be biding his time to get back at her.

Ky smiled slightly at her as she entered the court.

“I called you over to say that I’d like to apologize for my behavior in mathematics. I acted immaturely, and I would ask your forgiveness?” his voice was sincere.

Shanti smiled back at him, inwardly confused.

“You have it.” That’s strange, she thought, this isn’t at all like he was made out to be.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I noticed that in barehanded fighting you seemed to be… floundering. No offense intended. I could help you. I could give you a lesson right now. If I recall, you ought to have a free class period right now. What do you say?”

Shanti considered. What Ky said was true: her fist fighting needed help. Shanti had seen him in the courts. He was in an advanced class with the Hawks, and could help her. And besides, she thought, I ought to give him a second chance.

“All right,” said Shanti. Ky smiled. He gestured to the cordoned off, sunken square of the floor that was the ring.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” asked Ky, his eyes glinting. He swung himself over the ropes surrounding the pit and jumped down the four feet into the ring.

He’s really good, thought Shanti. They had been going for several minutes, he directing her: ‘kick, step back with your left, thrust shoulder level with your right hand, follow it up with your left, and back again, MOVE YOUR FEET! That’s better’, and so on. Shanti felt her mind digesting the commands, felt her body moving like a well-oiled machine.

And then, suddenly, it changed.

It wasn’t a lesson.

It was a fight!

Unfairly matched from the start, Shanti held out for a moment; but Ky soon gained the upper hand. He smiled, and the glint came back into his eyes. “Fooled you, didn’t I?” He lunged at her. Shanti darted away, and kept moving. She struck out at him. He blocked her blows, but could get none in himself.

Ky reached for something in his pocket with his right hand. The hand emerged, and in it something reflected the light that shone through the window. A knife! Ky came forward.

Shanti backed away from him. His left fist swung out, colliding with her jaw. Sparkling stars flashed in a red haze before Shanti’s eyes. Her head swam. Just as her vision cleared, Shanti saw the hand with the knife swing towards her face. She lurched backwards, right into the grasp of Ky’s other hand. His knifeless hand wrenched Shanti’s head backwards by her long, silky black hair. She cursed that hair in all the languages she knew, which took a fair amount, while struggling to free herself. Shanti froze, as Ky’s right hand brought the knife to her neck, the tip resting against the exposed underside of her chin. “I win!” Ky whispered.

***

Cristoval Sidney, a Raven, was passing by the practice courts when he heard, faintly, a familiar voice.

“Fooled you, didn’t I?”

Uh-oh, he thought, Merra’s got someone in trouble. Looks like it’s gonna be an interesting day after all.

It was a well-known fact that Kylian al Merra and Cristoval Sidney were not friends. They may even have been enemies. Chris hoped so. It made it easier to fight with someone if you were enemies. No time to think of that now, Chris admonished himself, you have a fight to join! He veered towards the practice courts, where the voice had come from.

“I’m going to the courts,” he called to his friends.

Chris heard the sounds of a fight. He walked faster. Probably the unused court by the Merlin ones, he thought.

The sounds suddenly ceased. Chris peered through a crack in the door.

***

Shanti’s mind was whirling. I should have listened to the rumors, she thought furiously. Why did I trust him? Look at where it got me! Trapped in an unused practice court by some psychotic jerk who’s more than a match for me in fist fighting most probably about to get my throat slit! At first she was enraged by her stupidity, but her anger soon turned to fear. What will he do to me?

“You’ve lost,” said Ky abruptly. “The phrase is, I yield. Say it.”

“What are you-” the knife pressed against Shanti’s throat.

“Say it!”

“I yield,” Shanti gasped out.

“Louder!” the knife pressed harder.

“I yield!” Shanti carefully began to shift her feet, readying herself for an escape. The knifepoint pricked the underside of her chin. A drop of blood formed. She froze.

“None of that! Can’t have you running off and spreading rumors about this, telling people things better left unsaid. Come to think of it, can’t risk you telling anyone anything.”

The drop of blood became a trickle, as the knife pressed harder. Shanti flinched, closing her eyes.

***

Chris had been listening and looking at the scene so far in a kind of incredulous trance, unsure of what sort of action to take, and not quite believing the whole thing. Suddenly, his eyes caught a glint on the girl’s neck. Chris squinted. Blood! Ky wasn’t joking! He opened the door and stepped into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing, Merra?”

***

Shanti’s eyes flew open. She recognized that voice. Everyone did: Cristoval Sidney! Ky’s sworn enemy (sworn to everyone but Chris himself). Hope flared briefly, and was extinguished.

“Don’t come any nearer, Sidney; the consequences would be… unpleasant.” A spasm of fear flitted across Shanti’s face, and she closed her eyes.

Chris swore. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Suddenly, he heard voices! His friends had come looking for him!

***

Ky also heard the voices. Pocketing the knife, he vaulted out of the ring, and fled out the far doors.

Shanti staggered to the edge of the ring, and rather fell down onto a bench with Chris’s assistance. The cut on her neck bled freely.

“You’ll have to have that seen to,” said Chris. The girl nodded.

“I’ll say my hand slipped cutting my hair.” Chris stared at her.

“What about Merra?”

“What about Kylian? I have no proof that he had anything to do with this!” she gestured to the cut.

“He would’ve murdered you, for some insane reason I don’t even want to know! He’ll try to again! He always does!”

“Always does… What are you not telling me?” Shanti eyed Chris, gazing searchingly into his bight green eyes. Chris swore silently, a different and longer oath than before.

“Nothing. Just-”

“I’ll be careful,” Shanti assured him. Chris ran his fingers through his golden blond hair, somewhat relieved.

Shanti touched the still-bleeding cut and winced.

“By the way, Cristoval Sydney,” Shanti murmured, “you saved my life today. Thanks.”

“Think nothing of it. And the name’s Chris.”

“And I am Shanti Soraya Sabrinae Elsara Karina …” Shanti’s voice was silenced as she fainted. With a sigh, Chris carefully and awkwardly lifted her in his arms, heading for the healers.

His friends entered the court.

“What’s going on?” asked redheaded George Calhoun. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Chris rolled his eyes.

“She had a nasty fall, and I’m taking her to the healers.”

“Is that all you’re doing?” asked Brian Rosingel, eyeing Shanti’s bronze skin and flowing black tresses appreciatively through his own inky black hair.

“Yes, that’s all I’m doing!” cried Chris. “Honestly!”

“Who is she?” asked Jacques de Cristof, smoothing back his sleek brown mane.

“Shanti Soraya Sabrinae Elsara Karina yada yada yada…” Chris broke off. “That’s all I can remember of her name. She’s a Merlin.” Brian paused for a moment, thinking. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.

“I know! She’s that new entry from Ashava. Shanti Soraya Sabrinae Elsara Karina Lamaya Yasmina Rozia Melrina fa Jasiklan.” He took a deep breath. “That’s one heck of a name for someone so small.” Brian peered closely at Shanti, then drew in a sharp breath. “She’s bleeding!” He looked from Chris’s face to the girl’s face, then back to Chris's. He nodded, exhaling slowly. “You know something you’re not telling us, Chris.” He looked to the other two for affirmation. George folded his arms over his chest.

“Spill it, Sidney.”

“Tell all, Cristoval,” Jacques commanded. Chris’s succinct summary of the events banished all traces of former merriment.

“Merra. I might have known,” growled Brian. “It fits the coward perfectly to bully someone smaller than him; although I never thought he would try this sort of thing again, after last time.”

“Goes to show that there’s more to him than as meets the eye,” commented Jacques philosophically. He looked at Shanti oddly. “Or her,” he added.

George’s large hands were clenched into fists.

“Somebody’s got to teach Merra a lesson,” he ground out through clenched teeth. Chris shook his head.

“Not so fast, friends, I doubt the young Merlin would be grateful if we fought her battle.”

“But he’ll cut her to ribbons!” protested George. “Or worse!” Chris held up his hand.

“Not if she learns her lessons well.”

“And who’ll teach her?”

“Who else but us?” As the genius of the plan slowly dawned on George, he began to grin.

“Brilliant!” He glanced down at the unconscious Shanti. “Now let’s get her to the healers!”

***

Shanti opened her eyes drowsily. She started to lift her head, and winced as she felt a sharp sting of pain.

“Better lie still for a while, youngling, lest you wish to reopen that cut.”

The voice came from behind her. Shanti looked around, her eyes roving the stark white walls. She realized with a jolt that she was in the infirmary.

“How did I get here?” she asked. The speaker came into view. It was a woman: graying hair in a long braid down her back, tall, probably around forty years old, wearing a green robe belted at the waist with a woven hemp cord.

“Well, dear, a young man carried you to my door, and said he’d found you in the unused practice courts. Said his name was Chris. Anyone you know?”

“Yes. Cristoval Sidney, a friend of mine.”

“Sidney, eh? Hmm, Sidney, Sidney…” the woman trailed off, lost in thought. Then she snapped her fingers suddenly. “Ah! I remember him! He enrolled last year…” The woman gazed at her shrewdly. “So, how did you come by that knife wound, dear?”

“Well, it’s rather embarrassing,” Shanti began hesitantly. The woman smiled encouragingly. “I was cutting off a few stands of my hair to send to my mother for her to put in her locket. I cut it in the unused court because I didn’t want to go all the way to my room, since I planned to meet someone in the opposite direction. I was cutting a strand off at my chin, being careless, and pulling the knife towards myself, instead of away, and my hand slipped. I’m lucky the knife was dull; I could have beheaded myself.” The woman tsked reproachfully, and Shanti thanked Taram the White that she had believed her story. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be more careful next time,” admonished the woman.

“I will,” promised Shanti, thinking, you don’t know how careful! “By the way, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself.” The woman smiled.

“Well, I am Sofiya de Teranmis, and that boy told me your name: Shanti Soraya Sabrinae Elsara Karina Lamaya Yasmina Rozia Melrina fa Jasiklan- have I got it right?”

Shanti nodded. “Although I don’t remember telling him all of that. I think I lost consciousness part of the way through.” She grimaced. “I can’t believe I fainted in front of him! Like some delicate air-headed noblewoman!” The woman chuckled dryly.

“I hardly imagine he would think of you in those terms, dear. I doubt a girl who manages to cut herself while cutting her hair can be deemed ‘delicate.’”

“Don’t remind me,” Shanti groaned, closing her eyes.

“How are you feeling, dear?” asked Sofiya. Shanti experimentally raised her head from the pillow, and felt, to her delight, only the slightest twinge of pain.

“I can barely feel a thing!” she exclaimed. Sofiya frowned. She gently removed the bandage from Shanti’s throat and looked at the wound, a barely visible scoring of red. She tsked again.

“It ought to be healed by now,” she murmured worriedly. Shanti looked at her curiously.

“What’s the matter? It barely hurts at all.” Sofiya shook her head.

“That’s just it- you shouldn’t feel anything by now. I’ll just give it a hand.” Shanti watched with interest as the woman traced sigils in the air with her hands, and gasped when she saw faint lines of green light form a complex design. Sofiya drew a circle around the rune, and pressed her fingers against Shanti’s wound. The faint tingling sensation of pain ceased, and the scar disappeared. Sofiya looked at Shanti oddly.

“When I did that just now, did you see anything?’ Shanti nodded, feeling the new skin beneath her chin with hesitant fingers. “Tell me what you saw.”

“When you traced that shape in the air, I saw bits of green light flowing from your fingers,” Shanti said softly. Sofiya’s eyes widened. “I know I must sound crazy, but-” the woman cut her off.

“No, dear, I was simply surprised. Rarely do I come across someone in his or her first year at the academy with so strong a Talent. Magic has a tendency to surface around the third or fourth year.” Shanti raised her eyebrows.

“Oh,” she said faintly.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Sofia walked over to it, and inquired, “Who is it?” Shanti started as she recognized the voice.

“It’s Cristoval Sidney. May I see Shanti?” Sofiya glanced at the girl. Shanti looked at Sofiya helplessly with pleading eyes. Sofiya got the message.

“I’m sorry, Master Sidney, but she’s resting.”

“Well, give her my best wishes when she awakens.”

“All right.”

“Thanks, Sofiya.”

“You’re welcome, Master Sidney.” Footsteps receded from the door and faded into silence. Sofiya raised her eyebrows.

“Care to tell me what that was about? Oh, don’t worry, dear,” she assured Shanti as the girl groped for words, “I won’t pry.” She smiled.

“Thanks, Hadarim¹ de Teranmis,” said Shanti, extremely relieved; if she couldn’t explain her feelings to herself, how could she possibly explain them to someone else?

***

Shanti emerged from the infirmary about thirty minutes after Chris had been there. Looking at a clock that had been mounted on the cold stone wall of the corridor, she saw that she was just about to be late for history. Quickening her pace, Shanti slid into her desk just as the great bell in the castle bell tower tolled its knell, signaling the start of classes. Professor Belmonte looked up, coolly observing her flushed face and heavy breathing.

“Ah, I see that miss Jasiklan will be joining us today,” he commented dryly, raising his eyebrows and pinning her with the piercing gaze of the green eyes beneath them.

“Yes, sir,” Shanti said.

“All right, now that we have addressed that subject, let us proceed to the one intended for this class: history. If you will all please take out your copy of Rulers of Svilia and Their Lives…” the class reached into various bags, and set the heavy tome on their desks. All but Shanti, who raised her hand.

“Yes, miss Jasiklan?” queried Belmonte.

“Fa Jasiklan, and I seem to have left my book in my room, sir. Might I be permitted to retrieve it?” Belmonte looked at her with disdain.

“You came unprepared for class, miss fa Jasiklan?” he asked ominously.

“Yes sir,” Shanti answered, figuring a direct response was best. Belmonte sighed, leaning back in his chair, making a steeple with his fingers and looking at the ceiling as if seeking patience from some exalted source.

“Master Derran!” he barked suddenly. The class jumped. A boy with wavy blond hair and a vague sneering expression answered, his voice slightly nasal and very pious,

“Yes, Professor Belmonte?” Several students glared at his back. Der was a good student, but his goody-goody-two-shoes, ‘I’m-superior-to-you’ attitude earned him few friends, and many enemies.

“If you would please instruct miss fa Jasiklan on the value of preparedness?” asked Belmonte. Der smiled his patronizing smile, stood, and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Quote: ‘if one is to succeed at any endeavor, one must first address the concept of preparedness. One must be ready for all activities. One must not stammer excuses to justify one’s lack of vigilance. One who is prepared is on time, organized, and has in his possession all materials needed.’ Close quote. As said by Artemis Julian Evanston III.” He sat down.

“Very good, master Derran,” Belmonte said with a rare smile at the boy.

“Thank you, Professor Belmonte,” Der said maddeningly. The other students looked at him with disgust.

“I trust you have found the answer to your question, miss fa Jasiklan?” Belmonte inquired.

“Yes, sir,” Shanti said. Suddenly, the boy sitting in the desk at her right raised his hand.

“Yes, master O’Connoly?” Belmonte addressed the dark-haired boy.

“I wondered, sir, if I might be permitted to share my book with miss fa Jasiklan, so she will not get behind in her studies?” asked Terrence O’Connoly; innocent brown eyes open wide. Shanti looked at him with surprise, as did Belmonte. He soon recovered.

“A commendable idea, master O’Connoly. Yes, you may share your book with miss fa Jasiklan, as long as you do not disrupt the class.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Terry. He shoved his desk so it was against Shanti’s, and opened the book.

“Now, class, if you would all please turn to page three-hundred-seventeen…”

***

The class passed without further interruption, save when Dean Adams ran out of ink. Der made a caustic remark about preparedness, and Dean emptied Oliver Hammond’s inkwell over Der’s head. Dean was sent to the disciplinary ward, accompanied by discreet applause. Der was excused to wash himself off, and came back with his clothes and hair, however clean, slightly mussed, and with a slowly purpling bruise under one eye. Belmonte made no comment on this, but continued discussing the hereditary ascendancy of the royal family of the time.

The bell finally rang, and the students gratefully escaped Professor Belmonte’s droning monotone by rushing out the door in a tightly compacted mass. As the room emptied, Shanti approached Terry.

“Thanks for letting me share your book, O’Connoly.” Terry grinned.

“No problem, fa Jasiklan. And call me Terry.” He extended his hand, which Shanti shook.

“All right, Terry. And I’m Shanti.”

“Then until next time, Shanti.” He sauntered off, chattering animatedly with Oliver.

Shanti looked after him, a little lonely. Oh well, she thought, until next time. She walked around the corner- and straight into Chris!

“Oh! Sorry, Chris! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Chris smiled good-naturedly.

“That’s all right, youngling.” Shanti winced at the nickname; then she, too, smiled.

“So, you just had history, huh? Whaddaya think of ol’ Belmonte?” Shanti rolled her eyes. She made a steeple with her hands, rocked back and forth on her heels, and adopted Belmonte’s droning monotone.

“And so, during the thirteenth century of the first age, Svilia was ruled by the type of government known as a monarchy. Can anyone define the term ‘monarchy’? Anyone?” Shanti changed her voice to match Der’s pompous tenor, placing her hands behind her back. “Monarchy: a government ruled by one central figure, who in turn is backed by a series of advisors. The crown is passed hereditarily, or down through the ruling family or the closest relative.” Chris laughed.

“Well, I recognize Belmonte, but who’s the know-it-all?”

“Gerald Derran.” Chris nodded sagely.

“I should have guessed. Another Derran. We ravens have to put up with Derran senior: Chauncey Maximilian IV, esquire.” He grinned evilly. “The term ‘put up with’ is used loosely. We usually use him as a mop.” Shanti laughed, and told him about the inkwell. Chris snorted.

“Serves him right. Good old Dean Adams! We’ve got his older brother, too. Richard. Great guy, and very creative when it comes to pranks and such.” A bell tolled. “Well, we’d best get to class. See ya later, Shon.” He ran down the hall.

“Later!” Shanti called back, and hurried to her room for books. Her next class was navigation and map reading, and she was determined to be prepared, regardless of Der’s speech, or maybe in spite of it.

***

Shanti walked out of navigation and map reading with her head full of lines and angles and degrees, squiggles and dots flashing before her eyes and making strange patterns. She blinked them away, shaking her head. How was anyone supposed to make sense of any of it? Parallel lines meant this, a small black dot meant that, a small triangle signified this, a small square signified that, and on, and on! It was enough to spin anyone’s head around.

“Hey, Shanti!” a voice called. Shanti turned to see Terry coming towards her.

“Hi, Terry,” Shanti called back.

“What’re you doing during free time?” he asked.

“Nothing so far.”

“Great! Want to help me and Ollie?” He indicated Oliver with a jab of his finger. “We’re locking Derran in a supply closet.”

“Lead me to it!” said Shanti fervently.

“Brilliant! So, Ollie has the keys, and Cory (that’s Corindon Engales,) has him delayed in the library. See, you ask him to get a book from the closet, he goes in, we lock the door, and scram!” He grinned at her. “You game to do the askin’?”

“But he’d see me, so wouldn’t I get in trouble?” Shanti asked dubiously.

“Nah. We’ll say you weren’t in on it if we get caught. Right, Ollie?” he asked the round-faced, rosy-cheeked, curly-haired boy. Oliver nodded vigorously.

“All right, then,” said Shanti.

“Good! Now, here’s the closet.” Terry pointed to a door bearing a brass plate engraved with the words Reference Books: Botany and Related Subjects. “Derran’s library assistant, so he won’t be suspicious. You ask him to get you this book.” He pulled a piece of folded paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Shanti. The paper read: The Obscure Dictionairre of Rare Herbes and Plantes, Volume Three. “It’s not on the shelves, so he’ll go into the closet to get it. When he does, you signal me and Ollie, and we shut the door and lock it.” Oliver pulled a ring of heavy iron keys out of his pocket, and grinned mischievously, as did the other two. Then Terry and Oliver ducked out of sight around the corner. Shanti took a deep breath, looked at the paper once more, and entered the library. She spotted Der standing behind a counter talking to a tall, red haired boy, supposedly Cory, and went over to him.

“Hi, Gerald, is it? Gerald Derran?” Der nodded. “I was wondering if you could retrieve a book for me?” He nodded again. “It’s called ‘The Obscure Dictionairre of Rare Herbes and Plantes, Volume Three.”

“Sure I could,” said Der. Then Shanti thought of something else. She continued.

“And would it be possible for you to leave it at the front desk for me under my name? I need to go do something right now.” Der considered this, then nodded.

“I suppose I could do that. And your name is fa Jasiklan, right?” Shanti nodded. “All right, then. And you’ll come by later to retrieve it?” She nodded again. “Okay.” He headed out of the library, grabbing a ring of keys like the one Oliver had acquired. Der then went up to the door of the supply closet, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Shanti looked at the doorknob, noticed that there was no keyhole on the inside handle, then sneaked around the corner. Terry and Oliver looked at her in surprise. She gestured towards the closet. Terry gave her a thumbs-up, and Oliver grinned, while silently removing the ring of keys from his pocket. He carefully selected one, and went up to the door. He ever so gently shut it, then silently slid the key into the keyhole, and turned it. There was a click, and then the sound of Der’s voice.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” The doorknob rattled. “Hey! You can’t keep me in here! Hello? HELLO?” The door shook, as did Terry, Oliver, and Shanti as they held in their laughter. They tiptoed down the hall, and listened to the ever-fainter protests issuing from behind the locked door.

“You won’t get away with this, whoever you are! I’ll find you! I’ll get you expelled! I’ll…” the threesome turned its second corner and the sounds faded into silence. Eventually Terry got sufficient breath to speak.

“Man! How’d you convince him so quickly?”

Shanti grinned, and replied,

“Well the truth of it is… I have absolutely no idea!” And all three of them collapsed to the floor in helpless mirth.

***