Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins

Malcolm was a hopeless case when it came to practising magic, or so Methyn had decided. The two of them had been awake for over an hour and he had still not yet grasped the basic concept of boiling water through applied magic. It was not a vital skill to learn but Malcolm had refused to give up and was currently commandeering the small kettle to practice, which would have been all well and good, Methyn conceded, if the boy was actually getting anywhere. Instead, they were without boiling water and Methyn could feel himself going into withdrawal. At this stage he would even have been satisfied with a cold cup of tea.

Methyn watched the young boy as he stared intently at the little metal pot. His eyes were focused and unblinking. He had the willpower, that was certain, but he seemed unable to release his flow of magical energy.

The kettle made a small “blop” noise.

“YES!” Malcolm let out an exclamation of joy, but there was no further action from inside the kettle.

“You broke your concentration.” Methyn stated, and without so much as glancing at the kettle he called it towards him through the air. The water was boiling by the time it reached him. “You must keep concentrating.” He held out his cup and the kettle poured the hot water as if held aloft by an invisible waiter.

“I've been staring at it for ages now and, well, nothing.”

“That's because you haven't developed adequate control of your internal energy- it's not so much about concentrating on what you want the object to do, but what you want your energy to do.” Methyn's teaspoon stirred his tea as he spoke.

“You don't look like you're concentrating at all.”

“I don't have to think about it too much. I've had a lot of practice, and it's not exactly difficult.” He sipped at his tea, across from him Malcolm looked crestfallen. “Besides,” he added between sips, “I really wanted this cup of tea.” He smiled, “Practise, I promise that's all it takes.”

Methyn couldn't remember ever struggling with energy control, he had always been able to visualise it with ease. He imagined that being so effortlessly clever, yet being unable to do this one simple thing must be extremely frustrating; especially when someone like Kaylaer constantly rubbed it in your face. Yet despite that Malcolm remained enthusiastic and eager; Methyn admired him for it.

“Can I try a little longer? Please?” Malcolm reached for the kettle.

“Okay, just until it's time to pack up.” He admired him for it now that he had his cup of tea at least.

***

Inside the girls' tent Kaylaer began to stir. Problems with shoddy tent construction had led to the three girls having to share a tent. For the usually anti-social Kaylaer this was an issue, it would probably have been more of an issue; however, if she hadn't feared being eaten alive by Sibbrats while she slept. Despite having realised that Juney was an assassin within a few hours of meeting her, she felt safer when she was around. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. So when she turned over and opened her eyes to find an empty spot where Juney should have been, she felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Alaina was sleeping soundly on the other side of the tent, but Kaylaer reasoned that she would be about as much protection against a Sibbrat as a crash helmet made of jelly. She sighed angrily to herself, she still didn't understand why they'd had bring Alaina along in the first place. So far she was shaping up to be a mockery of everything her mother had stood for. It was insulting. To make matters worse it seemed that it was only she who seemed to realise it; as if the others were blinded by the novelty of travelling with a pseudo-celebrity. Celebrity that, in Kaylaer's mind, she had no right to claim.

Kaylaer remained lying on the floor- unsure of whether or not she should venture out of the relative safety of the tent. Listening for any suspicious rustling sounds outside, she could hear Malcolm chattering away- she assumed that their professor was with him. Of all the people she mused. Malcolm was the smartest kid in the whole school- everyone knew it, but he was useless. Kaylaer didn't get it. She never really tried hard at anything but it was all so easy, well doing magic was anyway. She didn't understand the ins and outs of it, had no interest in the history, all she knew was that if she wanted to give someone a wedgie from across the room- she could. With her eyes closed. While eating a sandwich. It wasn't difficult, but from what she could gather from their conversation, Malcolm was having problems boiling water. Hadn't they learnt that in first year? Mother alive.

As she was shaking her head in disbelief a thud came from outside as something soft and heavy hit the ground.

“Argh! What the hell?” Kaylaer smirked at her teacher's reaction and climbed out of the tent.

***

I awoke that morning to bright sunlight and what smelt like rancid wet dog. I sat up and heaved, luckily nothing came up- Juney would probably kill me if I got throw up all over her tent. Taking a moment to come around properly I noticed that I was alone in the tent; everyone was already wide awake outside- and there seemed to be a bit of a commotion.

“What's going on?” I rubbed my eyes and stumbled out into the morning sunlight. I still hadn't quite gotten used to the light here. It was brighter than at home, but not so much that I couldn't see, it almost felt... thicker? Which in any normal circumstance would be a ridiculous way to describe it, but that's how it was. Sunrises were a marvel, the light was like honey dripping down over the mountains in the distance, before pooling in the valley where we currently were. I could almost swear that the shadows were shorter- as if the light had somehow seeped into them.

“You expect us to eat that?” I looked to where Methyn was pointing and almost heaved again.

“Haha, cool.” Kaylaer wasn't the least bit phased.

“I'm not having my students eat that! They could catch all sorts.”

“Are you saying that the preferred dish of my people isn't good enough for you?” Juney was standing over the animal that she had caught that morning, though it smelt to me like it had been dead a lot longer.

“I-I-I-Er well...”

“Oh Lighten up would you? I wouldn't have suggested this unless it was necessary... as if I'd eat this if I had a choice.” Juney crouched; a big smile on her face as she began to cut into the animal. It made me uneasy. Kaylaer watched her intently while Malcolm squirmed and picked at an invisible thread on his sleeve.

“What is that anyway?” I asked, since nobody else had bothered. To my eyes the creature looked to be the size of a large dog, but had the teeth and body structure of a rodent. It smelt like a bad mix of both. Juney pulled at it's jaw to reveal two long teeth.

“This, folks, is a Sibbrat,”

Methyn fainted.

“he really is gullible.”

It was mid-morning by the time we had managed to pack up camp. With Methyn spending most of the morning out cold and in a state of shock it was left to us to pack up the camp manually. I was shocked to find that Kaylaer was actually quite adept at using magic- but she was more concerned with teasing Malcolm, and waving dead Sibbrat limbs in his face to actually be of any use to us.

Juney explained to us that while the animal she had caught was actually a Sibbrat, they were harmless, docile creatures that fed mainly on long dry grasses. They were rare in most parts of Glakyrie but they seemed to thrive best in the mountainous regions between the two kingdoms. She hadn't expected Methyn to be such a wuss about it. Go figure. All members of the expedition now awake and mobile; if not a little embarrassed, we were headed for a town called Vallaylii. It marked the mid-point of our journey, and was, so Juney said, an ideal place to pick up some supplies. I was all for it if it meant we wouldn't have to eat Sibbrat for breakfast again.

***

The small town was a bustling hive of activity by the time we reached it at midday, and as I was gently jostled by the crowd it occurred to me that this was the most amount of people I'd seen since I had first arrived. Having left Corthus at some Godforsaken hour; there had been barely anyone around. Just as well; I had thought, as the buildings were all so close together that it had given me flashbacks to the corridors in my secondary school. People pushing past you to get where they were going, standing on your feet, having your face smooshed against a wall by a smelly girl called Tracy from the year above. Not that that had happened to me; being taller than everyone else, but it had happened to a girl I knew. She swore that her nose was permanently on a slant afterwards. Personally, I think it was always that way, but who am I to argue?

Vallaylii didn't feel cramped at all; despite the number of people walking about. Everyone wore brightly coloured clothes, in a style that wouldn't have looked out of place in years gone by. Smiling men behind market stalls wore tunics and what I could only assume were pantaloons; there were people trotting by on horses in full riding gear and capes; and women in full length dresses and bonnets stood gossiping in little clusters. But it was not the style of dress that interested me most. No, what was more amazing to me was that not one person appeared to be shorter than me, well, aside from Juney. In a place where I should have been different- an oddity even, I fit in perfectly, and no one glanced at me twice. My surroundings may have been pulled directly from a children's fairytale; even down to the seemingly gingerbread houses that sat snugly side by side, but I couldn't have felt more at home.

The four of us followed Juney through to the centre of town where a large Oak tree stood proudly in the middle of a large cobbled square.

“There's someone I need to go and see about supplies, and some information too while I'm at it.” She said, “Why don't you all have a look around? I'll meet you back here in an hour or so.” and with that she took off, moving swiftly through the crowd leaving us no time to protest.

“Sounds good to me,” Methyn rubbed his hands together, “there must be somewhere around here that I can get my hands on some Cortharen teabags.” I sighed; the man clearly had a problem.

“And this couldn't possibly wait until we get there?” I asked.

“We've a few days travelling left and I'm down to my last ten bags.” strike that; he had a serious problem.

“Shouldn't be too hard to find,” Malcolm chipped in, “Vallaylii is Glakyrie's trading capital; you can get almost anything you can possibly think of here, and the place is steeped in culture too. Galleries, museums, libraries; the works.”

“Really? Now that might be useful.” It would give me a chance to learn a little bit more about where I was- get a better feel for the place. I knew very little about Corthus and I knew even less about Cortharen. Forewarned is forearmed as they say. Besides, I got the feeling that Malcolm wanted to have a little nose around himself. Kaylaer, on the other hand, couldn't think of anything worse, and she said as much;

“Urgh, I couldn't think of a worse way to spend my afternoon.”

“In that case Malcolm and I will go get some culture, you can go with Methyn and get some teabags. Sound like a plan?” I beamed at her.

Malcolm nodded, while Kaylaer shot me a stinking look that only a teenage girl can pull off- my father had been well acquainted with that look.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass. I'm outta here.” and with that she stalked off. Methyn was visibly flustered.

“Get back here young lady!”

“Ah leave her.” I put my hand on his shoulder, “she'll be back.”

“Not if she doesn't want to she wont. You don't know what she's like when she gets an idea in her head.” I could feel his shoulders tensing.

“I know her well enough to know that she's going to want her purse back.” I smiled and tapped my pocket. A headstrong teenager let loose in the trade capital; where you can buy anything you can possibly think off? I knew what I would have spent my money on at her age, and I also knew that it wasn't a good idea. Malcolm smiled but Methyn didn't seem quite sure about what to do with his face:

“You're not really setting a good example are you?”

“You're the teacher, not me.” I smiled, “I'm protecting her from herself, how about we look at it like that?”

***

Methyn did not like places that he was unaccustomed to. Having not stopped off in Vallaylii on any of his other visits to Cortharen it was safe to say that he was out of his comfort zone. Though it would generally be safe to say that anywhere outside of the Corthus Institution for the Study of Magic and Wonderment was outside of his comfort zone. On his rare trips out of the institution he would usually only venture North to the city of Cortharen, taking refuge in the order and cleanliness of the place. These trips were usually taken alone and in the safety of a carriage provided by a tried and tested cab service. Methyn would spend these holidays walking through the city, admiring the well planned architecture, the neat rows of foliage and relishing the fact that he could sit alone in a café, drinking Cortharen tea- at source- only making polite conversation when absolutely necessary. Even the cab service he used knew not to bother him with small talk on the journey. His trips were quiet and pleasant. In fact, that was something he had had difficulty trying to get his head around; having to travel by foot. Juney had said that it was for the purpose of stealth. He had argued that surely if they were expected then there was no need for stealth, but Juney had insisted that this would give them the upper hand and any advantage would be a welcome one, and with that she had shot him a look which put an end to any further debate on the matter.

So, despite his preference for familiar places, he was quite happy to spend the afternoon exploring the Vallaylii marketplace by himself. Having to participate in so much conversation was probably even more exhausting to him than the journey itself. Methyn let his mind wander happily as he examined various stalls; it appeared he had found his way to the food section. Every stall that he passed tempted him with a new delicious smell that invited him to come and buy. There were stalls with fresh fruit and vegetables, stalls with all kinds of meats; one of which was roasting what looked like a pig, on a spit. The smell of which was particularly inviting. Another place sold freshly baked bread, the warm homely smell coaxed him into buying a loaf. He picked at the soft, still warm bread as he walked, stopping only as he passed a fish monger – his stomach lurching at the smell of the fish in the hot afternoon air.

So preoccupied was he that he did not notice the market growing more and more sparse, it was only when the loud voices of stall holders melted away behind him completely the he realised that he'd stumbled into a much more sinister part of Vallaylii. He'd heard tell of it before, through word of mouth, from others who had stumbled upon it on their travels. It was where you might go if you were desperate; at the end of your tether and needed something done without getting your hands dirty. Or if you had a death-wish. It wasn't ever advertised in the Vallaylii travel guides, but it probably brought in the most trade. Vallaylii's seedy underbelly; the Assassin quarter.

***

Who on Acclayne did she think she was? No one got away with ordering Kaylaer Bloomard around like that. No one except her teachers, and she didn't listen to them half of the time anyway. The only person that she never questioned was her father. No one did. Not even her mother; Kaylaer had grown to hate her for it.

Everyone was so bloody cheery in Vallaylii. Where'd they get off being so damn happy? She shot a dirty look at a pleasant looking woman who tried to sell her flowers. Her look didn't so much as falter when the kindly lady gave her a long stemmed daisy for free;

“A pretty young lady should always have flowers.” she had said, a broad smile on her face unperturbed by Kaylaer's outwardly surly demeanour.

She walked on after throwing a muttered 'thanks' in the flower sellers direction. Everywhere she looked people were smiling and joking with one another- it was unnerving. It wasn't even like this back at the school; where everybody knew everybody else. For the most part there was pushing and shoving and taking the piss; and that was just in her group of friends.

Her friends. The thought suddenly made her feel incredibly homesick- or rather school sick. Her home-life hadn't been the best, and although she'd missed her friends from her town at first she'd soon made new ones at the school and all longing to return had subsided. This new home-sickness was something else entirely and the more she dwelled on it the more it settled inside her; determined not to budge. To try and distract herself she resolved to go in search of weaponry. As a minor she was not technically allowed anything which could be used as a weapon and so she'd settled with using her fists instead; reasoning that, while fist-fighting was frowned upon, they could hardly confiscate her hands. At any rate, she wasn't in school right now; she was travelling the length of the country to rescue a princess from certain peril. Surely that warranted a weapon? You'd hardly send a soldier into battle without a sword.

She searched the market until she found a series of stalls selling all manner of swords and knives. Stocky men perused the various wares paying her little or no attention. She liked it best that way. In her experience male attention had hardly ever been a good thing.

Apart from her rescuer. Not that she could remember very much about him at all; and the more she though the less she remembered. She stopped before she gave herself a headache.

Kaylaer played with her long blonde hair as she browsed; acting as nonchalant as possible. She was aware that she looked older than her years- having lost her 'baby-face' a long time ago. She hoped that this would work to her advantage; she only needed to find the right man. She studied the stalls and their vendors until she came across the perfect one; he was no more than ten years older than her; still young enough to be ruled by impulse even without a drink inside him. He eyed her appreciatively and she pretended not to notice. In front of her a small dagger caught her eye; it was thin with a long, elegant looking blade. The hilt was plain and short; ideal for her small hands. It was discreet. Exactly what she was looking for.

“How much?” she asked without looking up.

“One Hundred and Eighty Dravli.”

“That's extortionate!” the word felt unfamiliar in her mouth; she hoped he didn't notice.

“One Hundred and Forty Dravli and your name then.”

She giggled politely and twirled her hair around her finger. He smiled at her in return. She may have hated the attention under normal circumstances but right now she had the upper hand and she was happy to use it to her advantage: this was business. She placed a dainty hand on her hip and stuck it out to the side- feigning thought while giving him a chance to appreciate her long, slender frame.

“How about Ninety Dravli, my name and a kiss?”

“Ha Ha! Now that is extortion.” He laughed.

“You wouldn't be saying that afterwards.” She winked at him. The poor boy was practically drooling. She loved the feeling of power it gave her; in a situation where she was completely in control and safe- despite the array of weapons around them.

Although utterly helpless now the boy pulled himself together enough to say; “How about One Hundred Dravli? Or my father will kill me, no matter how pretty I tell him you are.”

“Or how about I kill you anyway for even thinking about selling a dagger to a minor!?”

Of all the luck! The boy's father; a large, angry looking man had taken his place beside him. His moustache twitched in a way that Kaylaer would have found amusing under other circumstances.

“Father, I can explain!”

“I don't need an explanation; I can see for myself that you are thinking with your trousers again you stupid boy!” with that he hit him smartly over the head. Kaylaer let slip a small laugh. “And you! Get out of here Missy, now; before I call the guards.”

Kaylaer needed no further encouragement; she returned her blade reluctantly and sauntered off the way she came. She had been so close.

She walked around the market place a while longer until she eventually stopped in front of a quaint little tavern. It was an unusually short building with hanging baskets and plant pots covering every available space. Despite it's pleasant appearance the familiar smell of stale alcohol wafted out through the doorway and onto the street. Kaylaer shuddered as she remembered that first night in Corthus. How dare those drunken idiots come near her? She had hated herself for being so weak and vowed never to be that helpless again. As an act of defiance she walked straight into the building.

It was dimly lit inside and her eyes took a minute to adjust to the change. It was very quiet with only a few people sitting at the bar; it being mid-afternoon most people would still be working. She hauled herself up onto a well-worn bar stool and ordered herself half a pint of beer. The barman was old and doddering and; Kaylaer suspected, half blind as he didn't even question her age as he put the glass down in front of her. With a grunt he turned to serve one of his other patrons.

Kaylaer sipped at her drink; it wasn't as appetising as people made it out to be and it left a horrible dry taste in her mouth. Still, she persevered and began to feel the effects half-way through her glass. A warm feeling washed over her; she was perfectly content even though she was sat alone in an unfamiliar town. It was a strange feeling that compelled her to drink more and as she did the room seemed to lose a bit of focus. She had almost forgotten that sick feeling that had nestled in the pit of her stomach. She drained the last of her drink and ordered another when someone sat down beside her.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” It was her 'friend' from the market.

“Oh. Hi.”

“You got me into a lot of trouble you know.”

“No. You got you into a lot of trouble.” she sipped at her drink and to her surprise he laughed.

“You're a piece of work you are!” She ignored him. “I like it though.”

She rolled her eyes; “Well, good for you.”

“Good for me when you pay me what you owe me.”

“Ha! I owe you nothing.”

“So you wont be wanting this then?” She turned to look at him now as he slid the small dagger she had been looking at toward her across the bar.

“Now why did you do that?” She couldn't help but smile; for which she would later blame the beer. Even so she felt a surge of panic; there was no stall between them now, she could practically feel the heat radiating from him he was sitting that close. She wasn't in control anymore.

“Like I said; I like you. Besides, who else could handle a dagger that small?” He laughed again and she found herself blushing.

“One Hundred and Eighty wasn't it?”

“I seem to remember One Hundred, a name and a kiss.” His smile was broad now and confident. She fumbled for her purse. She didn't have it; it was gone,and so was the buzz from the alcohol. Trying not to let her panic show on her face she slowly picked up the dagger and made to examine it before looking at him. She met his gaze and held it. His eyes were a friendly deep green; she almost felt bad for him.

“How about a kiss-” She leant forward and slid of the stool; kissing him gently on the cheek before quickly shifting herself behind him. She held the dagger to his neck. “- and you get the hint and stop stalking me.” She snarled half-heartedly in his ear. He smelt of freshly cut grass and leather; it was disturbingly comforting; she could feel the dagger shaking in her hand and hoped he didn't notice.

“W-What?”

“Hmm, sounds fair to me.” She moved quickly to the door, her dagger still unsheathed. “I'll pay you back for the beer one day.” she smiled; half outside now. “And don't worry, I wont tell anyone you've been supplying a minor. Now that would be terrible.” She winked at him. “I owe you one.”

Out on the bright street Kaylaer felt a pang of guilt for leaving him- not that she'd asked him to follow her there in the first place. If anything it was his own fault; and she'd have paid if she hadn't lost her purse. Her purse. She thought back to the morning; the confident look on Alaina's face when she'd refused to go with her; the fact that no one had chased after her. Anger bubbled up inside of her and she became acutely aware of the weight of the dagger in her pocket. That bitch had her purse.