Dark Light of Day (25 page)

We were in an area that was roughly two hundred feet square and at least twenty feet high. On the far wall were chains, enough for at least a half-dozen prisoners. On the wall closest to us were weapons: swords, knives, daggers, maces, pickaxes, and hammers. It looked like an old dungeon but I couldn’t—or didn’t want to—imagine why St. Lucifer’s Law School would have a dungeon in the basement of its administrative building.

As ominous as the room was though, I had to admit it was the perfect place to practice waning magic. No fire would burn uncontrollably for long down here. And no Hyrke would accidentally walk in on a training session and get himself killed.

Whether I was equally at risk for accidentally getting myself killed was a question I didn’t dare dwell on.

“A brief review,” Rochester said, clearing his throat, “for those who added this class late.”

The groans I would have expected from Sasha or Brunus upstairs were conspicuously absent. Instead, they stood tensely, expectantly. I felt the uptick in everyone’s signature, like a cat’s ears twitching at the first sound of movement. My body and magic followed the others’ lead.

“A Mederi’s oath is ‘First do no harm.’ With Maegesters, it’s the opposite. You must learn how to harm a demon if you’re going to be able to control them.
Rogare
demons, and even some
regulare
demons, will never respect you, listen to you, or be controlled by you, if you can’t harm them.

“The type of cases you will be assigned when you graduate—
ahem
, if you graduate,” Rochester looked straight at me, “will depend on many things. Among them are how strong your magic is, how well you can manipulate it, how well you can use it to control demons, and how strong the demons are that you can control.”

Okay… all that seemed pretty straightforward, except for the part that I didn’t want to do any of it.

“Ms. Onyx,” Rochester called. I snapped to attention.

“What is one of the easiest ways to control something?”

“Overpower it,” I said without hesitation. Every kid knew that one. Might makes right and all that. I didn’t believe it, but it was the answer Rochester was looking for.

“And how exactly do you overpower a demon?”

I had no idea. Wasn’t this class supposed to teach me that?

“Use a weapon?” I said, taking inspiration from the completely unsubtle array of weapons on the wall closest to us.

“And which weapon would you choose?” Rochester motioned to the wall behind him.

Beside me, Ari stiffened. Was the question a trap? I considered the weapons on the wall carefully.

I’d never studied Apocalypse-era weapons before. I had no idea what sort of damage they could do, how to wield them, or which one I would choose if I were to go up against a demon. In fact, as bad as I was at controlling it, there was only one thing I’d use.

“My magic,” I said.

Rochester’s mouth quirked. “Perhaps… Mr. Olivine, choose your weapon and take the south position.”

I felt Brunus’ signature swell. He turned to me and smiled. It was the most chilling smile I’d ever seen. Suddenly I knew he’d pay me back for the bloody nose—and more.

“A reminder to the rest of the class…” This time Rochester looked directly at Ari, “No interference during a sparring match.”

Brunus selected something that looked like a cross between a hammer and a pick. Rochester called it a nadziak. When Brunus pulled it off the wall, Ari’s signature ticked up a notch. Why was Rochester having us pick out actual weapons if our magic was the best weapon we had? How would using real weapons help us to learn how to control our magic? But class wasn’t optional. I couldn’t just sit out or pass.

Again I studied the weapons debating which to choose.

“Go for the bullwhip and for Luck’s sake, Noon,” Ari said, “don’t let him get near you.”

“Mr. Carmine,” Rochester’s voice boomed in the cavernous space. “There will be no more warnings. Any further tips for Ms. Onyx and you will be asked to wait outside.”

Ari didn’t even acknowledge Rochester. He squeezed my arm as I walked past, his face tight, his body tense. I pulled the bullwhip off the wall (thank Luck I knew what it looked like… if Ari had suggested I choose the nadziak before I’d heard Rochester call it that, I would have had no idea what he was talking about). I placed the handle in my right hand and turned toward Rochester.

“Begin,” he said.

Wha—? Really? I looked down at the bullwhip in my hand and almost laughed. I couldn’t even
imagine
using this thing. But when I looked up and saw Brunus’ face, I knew he suffered from no such qualms. A second later his magic hit me. A blast that seemed hard enough to string my teeth and tie them around my neck. It knocked me off of my feet and onto the floor. I shook my head and felt my jaw to make sure it was still attached. Toward my left, someone laughed. Sasha
probably, but my ears seemed clogged so I couldn’t be sure. I raised my torso and leaned on my elbows, looking for Brunus. His blast had blurred my eyesight as well.

I felt Brunus’ next blast before it hit me. I realized he was shaping his magic like the weapon he’d chosen. His last blast must have hit me with the hammer end. This time, his nadziak-shaped magic came slashing through the air toward me pick end first. The impact would have been scarily effective—if my magic wasn’t naturally stronger than his. Instinctively, I threw up a shield. It kept his magic from reaching me, but not him. He towered over me, the real nadziak raised in one hand. I scurried back across the floor like a crab beetle. I would have thought it belittling but for the fact that I was starting to think Rochester really would just let this play out. And one look at Brunus told me he really wanted to use that nadziak on me. Suddenly, a sliver of bright shiny fear pierced through me. Until now, I’d been thinking of this practice session as I’d had all my other classes. But it couldn’t be more different. I realized then that Maegesters-in-Training had likely died in this room. Maybe many of them.

If I couldn’t prove I could hold my own against Brunus, who had less waning magic than me, then how would I fare against a demon?

I blasted Brunus with a magic jolt that was about as shaped as a mushy ball of pie dough. He crashed to the floor, hitting his head and losing his hold on the nadziak. It clattered to the ground a few feet away from where he fell. I had to resist the urge to run over to him. I truly despised him, but I hadn’t wanted to hurt him. I’d just wanted to stop him from hurting me. He picked himself up off the floor and stood up. His badly cropped, matte brown hair stood on end. He rubbed the back of his head and when he removed his hand, it was covered in blood.

This was way worse than the bloody nose.
Way worse.
Because everyone in the room had sensed how little effort it had taken me to press Brunus back. It was only my lack of desire to harm him that saved him from me. It dawned on me
that, if I wished it, Rochester might also let this sparring match play out the other way.

It was dawning on Brunus too. He realized that he might be in real danger from me, and he
hated
it—hated
me
—hated my very existence. He walked over to the nadziak and picked it up. He was going to charge. I saw it in his eyes.

“Stop!” Rochester bellowed. Brunus lowered his weapon. He looked neither defeated nor relieved. Instead, he looked
expectant
, as he had when he’d first entered the room. He glared malevolently at me and swung the nadziak around in an arc. He brought the hammer end down in the bloody palm of his other fist and then pointed it straight at me and grinned. He knew Rochester’s teaching methods. He must know what was coming next. That sliver of bright shiny fear inside me multiplied. My limbs felt cold and my fingers stiff.

“Ms. Onyx, you said you would control demons by overpowering them and that your weapon of choice was your magic, yes?”

I nodded warily.

“You certainly overpowered Mr. Olivine, didn’t you?”

This time Brunus didn’t grin. His look of hatred nearly gnawed a hole through my stomach. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said Rochester was provoking Brunus. But why? Why torture us? Why have us even spar in the first place? We all knew how this fight would end if it continued.

But it soon became clear that I had no idea how it would end.

“Most demons you encounter in the field cannot be overpowered. The strength of their magic will either be greater than yours or, if you throw a large uncontrolled blast at them, they will simply absorb it and add it to their own.”

Curiosity won out over the wisdom of silence. “So how do you control them?”

“By throwing something that’s controlled. Something that is shaped like a weapon. Something that is shaped like the weapon that is most likely to hurt them.”

It sounded repulsive to me. I had to remind myself he was
talking about controlling demons who had broken laws and hurt others. Demons like the ones who were attacking and abducting Mederies. What if Night were the one being attacked? Wouldn’t I want to know how to defend him?

“I’ve taught this course for many, many years,” Rochester said. “I’ve found the most effective way for students to learn how to shape their magic like weapons… is to have them fight with actual weapons. So for this round, magic use is not permitted.

“Begin.”

Brunus wasted no time advancing on me. A part of my brain couldn’t believe this was happening. We lived in a civilized society. How could a classmate be advancing on me with a pickax? Would my professor really allow him to use it? But a quick glance around the room told me all I needed to know: Halja was only civilized because its peacekeepers were not.

Brunus was halfway to me by the time I decided to use the bullwhip. Ari had said I shouldn’t let Brunus get near me. Rochester had said I couldn’t use my magic.

I snapped the bullwhip. But there was no snap. It uncoiled in a lazy, limp extension and then fell to the floor again. Brunus was taking his time. The metal tipped point of the nadziak gleamed in the torchlight.

I snapped the bullwhip again. This time, at least, there was a snap. The sound was about as threatening as the snap of a clean sheet being readied for the laundry line.

I wielded it with more force, trying to learn the feel of its length and recoil. Each time, my efforts to convincingly and threateningly use the bullwhip were as ineffective as the last. My right arm ached and I hadn’t even managed to hit Brunus yet. His laugh echoed off the stone walls and made it sound as if there were an army of Brunuses advancing on me.

And then he was in front of me. His mud-colored eyes met mine and I knew he wanted to kill me. For what? Just because I was stronger than him? Rochester had made it clear during this round that I was weaker too. Couldn’t we just call it a draw and go have a beer?

Brunus smashed the hammer end of the nadziak into my nose.

The entire room seemed to light up and my face felt instantly hot. I fell backward and looked up at Brunus with blood dripping down my face. My eyes watered from pain but I refused to give Brunus the satisfaction of seeing me whimper. I also refused to crawl backward.

Pride or suicide?

Brunus brought the nadziak down toward me slowly. I didn’t want a repeat of the nose smashing so I jumped to my feet, landing an arm’s length away from him. He lunged and raked the pick part of the nadziak across my torso, shredding the front of my sweater and tunic and nicking the right side of my chest. Bright red blood bloomed on my now exposed white cotton camisole like some obscene red flower pin.

My signature expanded. I couldn’t help it. Rochester called my name as a warning reminder. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold back… Magical control—as we all knew—was not a strength of mine.

“Get away, Brunus,” I said.

“Or what? You’re going to make me? With what? Your magic? You may be strong, but you don’t know how to throw anything that works.” Spittle was flying from his lips as he said it and a blackness far more poisonous than mold was growing in his rotten stink patch of a signature. He slashed the left strap of my camisole with the point of his pickax and squinted at my bared demon mark.

“Disgusting.” He spit the word out like it was venom he’d just sucked from a cut.

I looked down at my ruined clothes. What did he want from me?

“I don’t like it either!” I shouted, finally losing it. “I
hate
this mark, I
hate
this class, and I hate…” Luckily, I stopped myself before I said anything truly unretractable.

“Then this will be a relief,” Brunus said.

He stepped forward and swung the nadziak in an arc behind him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ari push his way
toward me and Mercator hold him back. Ari’s signature expanded as Serafina’s had the moment before she attacked Ivy. I knew Ari was going to throw something deadly at Brunus despite Rochester’s warning. I didn’t want him fighting my battles for me. I hated using my magic, but I wasn’t about to let Ari break the rules for me when I could do it for myself.

I threw a blast at Brunus hoping to knock him off his feet as I had earlier, but whether it was nerves or just inconsistency, the blast missed Brunus and exploded at the far end of the room in a shower of sparks. Brunus looked incredulously at me. He glanced at Rochester, who was looking at me with narrowed eyes.

The nadziak swung toward me. This time, I
blasted
the damned thing, hoping I’d used enough power to completely obliterate it. But no fireball appeared, not even a spark. Instead, the blast knocked the nadziak out of Brunus’ hands and sent it flipping, end over end, toward the rest of my classmates. They ducked and the nadziak clattered to the floor behind them.

Rochester did not look pleased.
Would he really have let Brunus kill me?

“Enough,” Rochester said to Brunus, waving a flat palm through the air. He turned to me, scrutinizing me for a few seconds before speaking.

“You hate waning magic, Ms. Onyx, and
that
is the reason you have trouble manipulating it.”

My nose ran and I swiped at it with my hand. Bright red gobs of blood dripped off my knuckles.