Salamin walked slowly down the steps, his mind whirling. He’d just killed another mage. He leaned against the stone wall, hidden in the shadows. Had he destroyed Aleda’s protections?

  He paused. If the protections were destroyed, he’d need to run. His way into the Order, blocked. There had been no other way. He would have died without the moonpath spell.

  Taking a resolute breath, Salamin walked down the rest of the steps and into the main keep. Soon, he would know everything.

  A single mage was at the end of the hall, sweeping the main corridor.

  With feigned urgency, Salamin waved to him. “Please, there’s been a terrible accident. It’s Mage Saban, outside. Hurry, he’s been injured!”

  The mage inclined his head, both quizzical and suspicious. “Something with Saban?” He set his broom aside, and called ahead.

  Another mage ran down the hall, hearing the commotion.

  Salamin followed the two mages outside, his pulse racing. Saban’s neck lay awkwardly twisted from the fall, his gray eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking. Dead.

  The mage ran over to Saban and checked his pulse, looking up towards the roof. His eyes bore into Salamin’s. “How did he fall?” He asked, eyes narrowing.

  Salamin shook his head, hugging himself and feigning deep fear. “We…we were training, and he was teaching me. I don’t know.” He backed away from the body, eyes wide. “It happened so fast.”

  The mage knelt, saying a silent prayer, and closed Saban’s eyes. “Bad omens,” he muttered, and clutched the pendant around his neck.

  “Get Paxton,” the other mage said sharply. “He needs to see this.”

  Salamin was told to stand beside the stone wall and keep silent.

  Paxton arrived and surveyed the scene, his eyes landing on Salamin. “I need to know exactly what happened,” he said to the mage.

  The mage relayed what Salamin had said, and Paxton nodded gravely. “Initiate Sedwick, come.” He motioned Salamin forward. “We need to speak once again.”

  This would be the true test. Salamin inclined his head respectfully and followed the elder mage. Paxton led him back into the Keep, and up the stairs to his chambers. He sat down at his desk, clasped his hands and leveled Salamin with a steely gaze. “What happened. From the beginning.”

  Starting with the training, and going up on the roof, Salamin kept his features relaxed as he lied, and that the sword play had been his weakness and Saban was teaching him the skills he needed to survive.

  Paxton nodded, frowning, and drew in a deep breath. “I know that Saban held a grudge for his brother.” He gazed at Salamin, a finger tapping his chin. “Either you are very good at lying, or…” he broke off. “Two brothers dead, and both times you have been very calm. Centered, even.” He rose from his chair, and moved closer.

  Salamin remained standing, keeping his mind focused and ready. So far, it appeared Aleda’s spell still held true.

  “Sedwick Draken. I’ve done more checking on you. The Draken family is of high blood, and well regarded in the Farlands.” His eyes squinted at Salamin. “What brought you to Parmouth?”

  “I want to learn the ways of the Order, and protect Argor as my father did before me.,” Salamin lied.

  Paxton nodded, then sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “You have no potential, no powers and yet you are still standing. The Catacombs root people like you out, Initiate Sedwick. I want to offer again to have you leave the Keep, and find your fortune elsewhere.”

  “No, I’d like to stay, sir.” Salamin said with a bow of his head. “I’m truly sorry for for Mage Saban. He was a great teacher.”

  Clearing his throat, Paxton inclined his head. “We head out in two days. Your group will have to be trained with the others for the remaining days. This unfortunate accident cannot interfere with our contribution to the Initiation. Go, and join the others, and we will notify everyone of the tragedy.”

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  Salamin turned to leave when Paxton called after him.

  “Watch your step, Initiate Sedwick.”

  With those words, Salamin left the chamber, and realized his heart was still thudding. He regulated his breathing and leaned against the wall, centering himself. So far, Aleda’s spell still held despite his lapse. Two days until the Catacombs. I can do it, he told himself. Just two days.

  Paxton gathered them all in the Grand Hall, and Caden gave Salamin a questioning look. They didn’t know about Saban. Not yet.

  “I have sad news to relate to all the Initiates,” Paxton began. “Mage Saban has been involved in a tragic accident.”

  Murmurs rose up in the hall, and Paxton raised a hand to quiet them. “We will have Mage Farak complete all of your trainings, while the Keep prepares to honor our fallen mage. Remember, your victory at the Catacombs honors the fallen who gave their lives for the Order.”

  They were dismissed and Lane caught up with Salamin. “What happened? Her brow raised. “Another mage dead?”

  Salamin shook his head. “A terrible accident.”

  Elian and Caden whispered to the others, glancing at Salamin with sidelong looks. They suspected Salamin knew, but they had no proof.

  Lane’s mouth opened and then shut again. “This place gives me the creeps. These next two days can’t come fast enough. Farak is not a good person.” Lane rolled up her sleeve where black and blue marks lined her arm.

  Salamin’s jaw tightened, as he looked at the fresh bruise marks.

  She nodded. “Yeah, he is brutal. Watch yourself. One mistake and he takes it out on you.” Her face tightened. “Plus, the rules keep changing.”

  “Bastard,” Salamin murmured, still gazing at her bruise. He’d made a promise to Aleda to protect her.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ve had worse. I’ll get through it, and then the Catacombs.”

  “Attention!” a low voice boomed in the grand hall. “All Initiates gather round. Playtime is over.”

  Lane gave Salamin a knowing look and moved away towards the mage.

  Salamin was slower, regarding this other mage. Bald head and close set eyes regarded the new students. His height was formidable, and his sinewy muscles revealed under a short sleeve tunic. He didn’t bother with the formal robes.

  “We have three new Initiates to join us,” Farak began. “For the next hour, in honor of the death of a great man, Mage Saban, we will have our final lesson.” Salamin’s eyes met his, and instantly he was struck with a surge of energy. This mage had more potential than the others and appeared to be of a higher tier than most here in the Keep. Why was he still here?

  The other two initiates, Parric and Staya had their eyes cast down at their feet. Salamin saw a glimpse of bruising on each of their faces.

  “Come and introduce yourself to me,” Farak said. “Each will approach individually.”

  Elian came first. “Sir, I am Elian Crest. I’m honored to be your pupil,” he said with a bow of his head.

  “Good, good,” he said and waved Elian away.

  Caden came up next, his voice trembling. He knew something was wrong. “Caden Mitras, sir. Thank you for taking us in.” He followed suit and bowed his head reverently.

  The mage raised a brow as Salamin hesitated. He didn’t want to kiss up to this bastard. He took a slow, calming breath and moved forward. “Sedwick Draken,” he said, looking Farak in the eye. Up close, he saw something, a scar on his cheek, and a mark of his heritage that had been removed. Farak was of the Devold heritage, and had hidden it.

  Salamin stepped away, and a hand clasped down on his shoulder roughly. “You will address me as sir, and bow. That is the proper respect for your teachers.”

  Closing his eyes, Salamin knew he could not do this. He was not worthy of respect.

  “Are you deaf?” Farak asked, and circled Salamin.

  For the final goal, he had to go along with this bastard. “I’m not deaf,,” Salamin said at last.

  Farak shoved him roughly back before he could bring his head up. “You will be the first to demonstrate our last lesson. Today we will learn the Blood Oath Spell.”

  Salamin turned to face him. What did the bastard want now? Blood oaths had never been a part of the Order in his day. This line of magic was forbidden, and only talked about in the shadows, and dark circles.

  “Blood can be a powerful tool you can use against your enemy. I will begin the demonstration with Initiate Sedwick. Kneel before me,” he commanded.

  Salamin glanced back at Lane. She nodded to him, her eyes wide.

  “Are you mentally challenged, Initiate?” Farak’s eyes narrowed.

  Coming closer, Salamin glared, and knelt before the mage.

  “Give me your hand.” Farak took out a spelled blade similar to the one used at the front of the Keep, and a small chalice, the size of his palm.

  Slowly, Salamin held out his right hand, and took out the needle he’d taken from Aleda from his pocket with the other hand. Two could play at this game.

  “Behold, a spelled dagger,” Farak said, holding it up to show the other Initiates. “You will learn much more about blood magic when you enter the Order. For now,” he paused, looking down at Salamin. “There is only one thing you need to learn for the Catacombs.”

  The knife sliced across Salamin’s palm, and as the mage brought his wrist down, Salamin pierced the mage’s wrist with the needle, then slipped it inside his sleeve. Farak did not seem to notice the small prick.

  The mage positioned Salamin’s palm to let his blood drip into the chalice, and Salamin breathed a sigh of relief when a drop of Farak’s blood dropped in as well.

  Salamin did not have much experience with dark magic, but he knew enough. This next spell would be interesting indeed.