Page 43 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

‘Oswald and Pingot are far better than me at magic. And Cal is better with any weapon,’ Solar said, looking down at her hands twisting together with furtive delight.

This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go , said a small voice inside her head.

And you are meant to be mind raiding him by now.

But Loveday’s words warmed her in a way that praise from Binns or her classmates never could.

His voice was so sincere, and his words so flattering, that she could not help but believe him.

Why had she ever doubted that he had taken her on for any motive but her talent?

He wasn’t hiding anything; there was no need to steal inside his mind to uncover the truth.

He was her mentor, her champion, and had been ever since the day he had saved her from Captain Grubber before Falcontop’s walls.

‘There’s more to being a wizard or witch than magic and swordplay.

And it is thanks to that fact that you have earned a pendant for your performance in Wolfport.

I will be giving the others pendants too, but it is clear to me that, on this occasion, you are the most deserving.

You now have just two more pendants left to win until you can carve a staff and search for your father. ’

Solar’s jaw dropped. She had never told Loveday about her ambitions to find her father. ‘How—’

‘Some things you can deduce without mind raiding,’ said Loveday, rising and walking behind Solar. ‘Besides rescuing your father, have you given much thought to what you will do after qualifying?’

‘ I want to be a rover, like you!’ said Solar without a moment’s hesitation, as Loveday unclasped her necklace and added a black pendant to it, an emerald-green light at its centre. ‘Why, are there other things that a witch can do?’

‘Well, the best students do tend to become rovers and, for a short while at least, also take on students of their own,’ said Loveday, fastening the clasp again and walking back to his chair. ‘With such a role comes honour, prestige and a salary worthy of the nobility, but most of all adventure.

‘If this is your goal, then you need two things. First, you will have to return to your training once you have found your father. You will assume the rank of forester, the final step in the training ladder before rover. Second, you will need a combat staff like my own, made of ash.’

‘Staffs can be made from other materials?’

‘Certainly. Healers tend to favour mahogany staffs, whilst a beech staff will allow the wielder to transform into any animal at will.

It is an unusual path for a wizard, but not unheard of.

An elm staff lets the wielder communicate with the gods …

and the dead. An iron staff functions in almost the same way as an ash combat staff.

A crucial difference is that one blow from the iron staff will kill your opponent as surely as a sword through the heart, no matter where you strike them.

For this reason they have long been banned from Ashwood.

‘Iron and ash. Alike, and yet so different. Those who fashion an iron staff do so knowing they are taking a path considered by many to be the darkest a wizard can choose, a path that resounds with the knell of death. And those who bear the noble ash must live with the knowledge that one day they may well find themselves the last bastion barring the path of their metal-wielding comrades, the last defence of the weak and cowardly. So it has always been throughout the Ages, and so it will be again.’

Solar looked at her instructor curiously.

He almost sounded as if he was quoting something, like a history book.

Or a story perhaps, one of the ones told throughout the country’s taprooms, only one she hadn’t heard before.

‘And what other paths could I choose with an ash staff, besides a rover’s? ’ she asked.

Loveday paused for a moment, expressionless.

Then he gave an approving nod, deliberate and measured, full of a solemnity that acknowledged the weight of Solar’s words.

‘Any number of things. You might serve the king in the capital, if you have a taste for politics or academia, though other staffs could serve you equally well in such a role. You could serve in his army or, if undergoing further training as a forester is not to your taste, earn a fortune as a mercenary abroad. You could become a treasure hunter, looting the hoards of trolls and dragons, although it is dangerous work, and a looter’s life expectancy is even shorter than a rover’s. The possibilities are endless.

‘Should you wish to climb the official ladder, rising from apprentice to forester to rover, you will have both my wholehearted endorsement and a warm welcome back to my encampment. Indeed, I encourage you to choose this road. One day you may even be appointed head of the Magic Circle. You would be the first witch in the history of Ashwood to receive the honour. Just imagine that!’

The Magic Circle! Solar felt herself flush with pride.

She hadn’t been so happy and pleased with herself, in fact, since she had last stood in her father’s workshop, the carpenter praising her for her work on an oak door that they had made together.

Unbidden, she remembered vividly the smell of the room, the combination of scents travelling over miles and years to Loveday’s tent, filling her nostrils: the fresh sawdust, the earthen floor and her father’s sweat-stained shirt after a long day’s work.

‘Thank you, Sir, I mean, Lord Gaderian,’ she said. ‘Being a rover is all I ever wanted.’

*

With the goblins possibly still tracking them Loveday ordered they maintain their relentless pace, all lessons and training suspended, until they reached the safety of Riverhawk, which at the rate they were travelling was only a week away.

Eamon left soon after Solar had been dismissed from Loveday’s tent, a sealed scroll from the wizard stowed in a cloak pocket.

Loveday handed the other trainees their first pendants as they mounted up, with words of warm praise for their performance, and the four boys now wore them on necklaces with staff-shaped clasps that were identical to Solar’s.

The sun followed them further north, but the temperature dropped steadily each day. Solar loved the freshness of the mornings: the way her breath steamed in front of her, the crunch of frost beneath her boots and the clear-headedness that came from the combination of cold and sunshine.

They had previously only left the sprawling, tangled forests of Ashwood to enter settlements and their hinterlands.

Now they were riding through a landscape of gently rolling hills, prosperous farms and chuckling brooks and streams. The young children of hamlets and villages often stopped at their games and ran to the road to watch them pass.

Few of the countryfolk had ever seen so many fine clothes, horses and weapons in one place, and they did not need the clue of Loveday’s staff to know that the passers-by made up one of the famed magic encampments which roamed the land.

They continued to camp on high ground, though after the first night Loveday had reduced the watch from three to two.

On the sixth evening of their flight from Wolfport they pitched their tents on a hill with commanding views of the surrounding countryside.

The River Sildu wound its way past farms and villages and into the mountains just visible on the northern horizon.

Somewhere, nestled amongst those mountains, lay the capital, Riverhawk.

Solar and Cal had been assigned second watch that night.

Solar was woken from sleep by Bear shaking her tent flap.

She rose bleary-eyed and stumbled outside.

Cal was already by the fire. He’d taken off his winter outer layers, so that all he wore was a loose-fitting linen shirt.

Before him on a log were herbs, bandages and a number of Sorcery!

pieces that he was working on. The board now very nearly had a complete set of figures.

Sharing the warmth of the flames were dozens of snoring imps, all tucked up in tiny blankets.

‘Your wounds still hurt?’ asked Solar in a hushed voice, seating herself next to him on a pile of rugs.

The two of them had barely spoken since the events at Wolfport.

This was due to a number of reasons: the relentless pace that Loveday and Binns had enforced, the fatigue caused by the introduction of a double watch and because Solar was unsure of where they stood after they had fought side by side against the slavers.

Had they become friends, or, now that they were out of immediate danger, would he go back to hating her?

‘Not particularly,’ he replied. ‘Loveday patched me up well. But Pingot said that the cuts to my arms may get infected if I don’t apply fresh herbs and bandages every couple of nights, and the cut on my right cheek aches every time I smile.’

‘Every time you smile?’ asked Solar incredulously. ‘I didn’t know you knew how!’

He smiled for her then, and Solar was shocked at the transformation of his features. His sullen eyes lit up with humour, his scowl lifted and his face radiated compassion and energy.

Solar couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You're like a different person! Who are you and what have you done with Cal Roundtower?’ she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

‘Ow!’ yelped Cal, wincing at the impact.

A few of the imps started at the noise, and one of them sat up in her sleep and reached for a toasting fork, mumbling, ‘Lemme at ’em.’

‘Sorry!’ said Solar hurriedly, appalled at what she had done. ‘Here, let me help you apply those herbs. Pingot prepared some for me once – they really work.’

‘He certainly knows what he’s doing,’ agreed Cal, rolling up his sleeve so that Solar could tend to him. He gasped as the bunched-up fabric rubbed against his bandages.