Salamin let the memories wash over him, each seeming to be more painful than the last. He braced himself for the next.

  A memory came like a sharp knife twisting in his gut. Haldar’s dark eyes glittered at him in the darkness. His mentor and friend had turned on him. He lunged forward at the image, wanting to destroy it.

  He had to get out of here. Get out, and then what? Haldar would destroy him with the flick of a finger. Salamin cowered into himself. Moonpath. He was powerless. He was nothing. There was no hope.

  A faint noise came from the door. A scratch. For a moment, Salamin panicked. Had he screamed to be let out? His own mind was his enemy.

  The door opened, and a shaft of light from a torch lit the chamber. His eyes adjusted, and for a moment he didn’t believe what he was seeing. It was Lane.

  She knelt beside him. “Sal?”

  Salamin couldn’t answer for a moment. There were no words for the relief he felt. A hand came down on his shoulder. “Sal?”

  He nodded and tried to say something, but his mouth was too parched.

  “Here, I brought you something.” Lane took a wrapped cloth out of her pocket. “Take this.”

  She held out a piece of bread and meat in her palm. Salamin focused his eyes, then wiped them. He looked up into Lane’s face. Her horribly chopped and ratty hair falling across her face, and her black eyes unreadable.

  “Thank you,” he rasped, and took them in his hand. Feeling the soft texture of the bread healed something inside him and silenced the vicious whispers in his mind.

  Taking a large bite, he savored the taste and then took another. Strength was returning.

  Lane handed him a flask to drink. “What did they do to you?” She picked up the dead oil lamp. “A curse?”

  Sal nodded.

  “Tomorrow, they are going to fight with spelled weapons. The others have already chosen theirs.” She hesitated. “You’ll need to be careful.”

  Salamin let this sink in. “Spelled weapons?” Salamin swallowed and took this in, as he got up from the floor. This was different than the spell Elian had cast during battle. These weapons had their own mind, their own will, and could easily usurp the user’s will. “That is advanced magic.”

  He shook his head. These were all children, novices, and had no business using spelled weapons. Not until a much higher tier. It took a high level of training before manipulating such power. Unless that was the point. The weapon would manipulate the user. “Did you choose?” Salamin asked.

  Lane nodded and unsheathed her weapon from her belt. The silver blade shone in the dim light of the corridor. “It called to me,” she said, caressing the hilt. “It has the markings of the Devold.”

  Salamin touched it as a trace of energy flowed into his finger tips, then grew stronger. The Devold had their own armies, and perhaps this was from a vanquished foe. “Be careful, Lane. This is ancient magic.”

  She nodded and returned it to her belt. “The mages are meeting someone important tonight. I was going to listen in. There was talk of one of the initiates dying tomorrow.” She glanced at the floor. “I want to know what we’re walking into. Do you want to come with me?”

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  Eyes widening, Salamin weighed the potential for discovery. If he stayed here, he could fight another day. If they were caught, they would lose everything. An advantage was an advantage, and they needed it now. “Which way were they headed?”

  Following Lane, Salamin latched the door behind him and headed down the stone corridor. Small traces of light came in through the upper windows and illuminated the strange, armored statues. The dark energy of the chamber left him when he stepped out.

  Low chanting coming from down the corridor, growing louder as they approached the Grand Hall, then turned to a deafening praise. “Hail Kaldon!” the mages roared in unison. “Hail Haldor! Hail Argor!”

  Silence fell over the room, and a low voice resonated from the hall out into the corridor. “My fellow Mages, we are at a perilous time. Our Lord Haldar has almost what he needs to open the gateway to the shadowlands. It is almost time. Our armies must strengthen, and the new Initiates must be ready. Do you have good candidates? We need two by the full moon. Mage Paxton?”

  There were footfalls. “Gracious High Archmage Kaldon, we thank you for your presence here tonight. Tomorrow the initiates will learn the true lesson.”

  “Excellent,” Kaldon replied. “Most excellent.”

  “The true lesson?” Lane whispered.

  There was more talk of skirmishes south of the Farlands. Salamin tensed. They had won that battle turns ago. “Let’s get out of here,” Salamin said. “Where did you get that sword?”

  Lane nodded and looked down that hall. “This way,” she motioned, and Salamin followed.

  The armory door was open, and the high windows allowed light to fall on the room. Salamin sensed the power around him. He’d seen these weapon used on the battlefield. But not for mere initiates.

  “Where did you find your weapon?” Salamin asked.

  Lane led him through the rows of swords, maces and spears, to the back. “It was right here,” Lane said. “It couldn’t have disappeared.” She searched the rows, and finally returned, baffled. “Could they have taken it out?”

  Salamin shook his head. He looked at the swords and focused. “They said they would have me choose tomorrow?”

  Nodding, Lane came up to his side. “Some of them are cursed.”

  How to tell them apart? Salamin no longer had the common spells at his fingertips. He held his hand out to each, assessing the power emanating from them. Some were stronger than others. One sword caught his eye, bronze metal at the hilt and strong iron at the tip. It was a two handed weapon, yet lighter than the one he’d fought with yesterday.

  He reached out a burnt finger to it, and a spark lit. It was not painful, and he carefully took it into his good left hand. The energy was strong and soaring, and he felt for just that moment that he could conquer anything, or anyone. Visions of conquests, and victories filled his mind. Euphoria. He let it drop from his hand. It was just as he suspected. Without his higher levels, the weapon could control the user.

  The mages were playing with fire.

  He set it back down gently on its holder and glanced back at the corridor. “Let’s go.”

  Lane led him back to his chamber, and closed and locked the door behind her. The darkness closed in, but his reserves of strength kept it at bay. He didn’t want to think about the battle tomorrow would bring. Only the moment.

  He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

  ***

  It seemed he had just closed his eyes when the door opened. Igar stood over him, arms folded, and his face in a permanent scowl. “Get up, Initiate Sedwick. It’s time for the next challenge. Another one left last night, and there’s only two of you.”

  Salamin shook his head and blinked at the bright light shining into the chamber from the hall. Had he slept in?

  Paxton waited impatiently while Salamin gathered up his robe and shoes. The orb was still securely in place.

  “Follow me,” Igar said. “The others are waiting for you.”

  Salamin entered the hall and saw the other boy, Caden looking pale and shaken. His short brown hair matted on the side. Bloodshot eyes met Salamin’s and held a haunted look.

  Of the four that were defeated, Caden and he were the only ones left. They both walked behind Igar towards the Great Hall. Salamin had slept after Lane gave him food and drink and had regained his strength. Caden looked unsteady on his feet, and sickly pale.

  Paxton opened the door, and they stepped into the Great Hall. The other initiates were practicing with their new weapons. Their spelled weapons. Unease settled through Salamin. What had the mage meant last night by ‘the true lesson?’

  Lane turned to him and gave him a slight nod of her chin.

  Salamin had a feeling they were all about to find out.