Hert, who was as large as Raven but far more muscular, retreated a step, then caught herself. It wouldn't do to show any weakness in front of her cronies. Probably she would punch Raven now, just for good measure.
But luck, finally, was on Raven's side. A monitor came around the corner at that moment, waving one of those paddles they so generously used on students' backsides. Everyone scattered. Raven made straight for her quarters.
RAVEN LEANED BACK on her stool and rubbed her burning eyes. She had no idea what time it was or how long she had been poring over her studies, and she really didn't care. She was determined not to sleep until she had mastered the lesson they'd spent the day studying.
Though there was no test scheduled for tomorrow, that was no guarantee that there wouldn't be one. Unannounced tests were the norm, not the exception for magicians in training. What was more, since the tests were often of a practical rather than a theoretical nature, failing one could be injurious, if not actually fatal.
Rising to her feet, Raven stretched and walked a few steps, all the movement her cramped cubicle would allow. Students' cubicles were designed to be utilitarian, not comfortable. Hers was barely large enough to accommodate a sleeping pallet, her study desk and stool, and a chamber pot.
There was no mirror. The Academy didn't provide one, and Raven had seen no point in purchasing one for herself. She already knew what she looked like.
Her mother had named her Raven in hopes that the girl child would grow to match her own grace and beauty. The truth was, her mother had always been very proud of her own good looks. It was her beauty that once caught the eye of a rich and powerful man of the city of Felk and moved him to relocate her from her small village home into his bed as his mistress.
She had fulfilled that role willingly and with enthusiasm for many years, until she had become pregnant. At that time, her lover 'retired' her, but with a stipend that enabled her to return to her old home and set herself up comfortably without having to work.
As her looks began to fade at last, she had hopes that her daughter would blossom and follow in her footsteps.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. Raven had been a chubby baby, and rather than melting away when she matured, her baby fat solidified and grew. Despite her mother's admonishments to 'stand up straight' and 'arch your back, don't sit there like a lump,' Raven grew from being a plump, awkward girl to being a plump, awkward young woman with stringy dark hair. She had also never grown beyond a very modest height.
Friends might have made her situation bearable, but she didn't have any. Her mother always held herself aloof and apart from the other villagers, feeling her years among the rich made her better than the rustic, rural folk she had grown up with.
The villagers responded to this attitude with undisguised scorn, which their children emulated in their own fashion by taunting, teasing, and socially debasing the young Raven every chance they got.
Denied any affection by those around her, Raven had retreated into her fantasies. Her mother had insisted that she learn to read, believing it was prerequisite for anyone hoping to someday move among the nobler set, and Raven proved to be an eager student. Quickly mastering the basics, she devoured any text or writing that came her way, and took to writing her own when the limited supply of new material was exhausted.
Turning a blind eye to her actual surroundings, Raven fashioned a dream world she could retreat to at will, a world built from bits and pieces she had heard or read about, other lands and the Isthmus's various city-states. The nearest city to her little village was Felk, where her mother had once lived with her father. It was an old city, and a large one, and thus fascinating to the lonesome, homely girl.
There was one fantasy in particular that she cherished and held dear: Someday she would seek out her father, and he would shower on her the affection and approval that her mother never gave her.
That fantasy had particular allure, because, if her mother were to be believed at all, her father was none other than Lord Matokin himself.
As early as Raven could remember, the mage was known as one of the most powerful men in Felk. Now the entire city-state belonged to him. He had risen to power rapidly, promising great things for Felk's future, promising to expand the state's territory.
The people had embraced him, investing him with the power to build up the military. Matokin was a magician and did nothing to hide his prowess at wizardry. In fact, he displayed it boldly, despite the Isthmus's cultural tradition of shunning the art. Magic, he had promised, was the key to Felk's ultimate triumph. The people believed his promises, and look how mighty Felk had grown! The army had gone southward, capturing other cities, swelling Felk's borders.
The very thought of being accepted by this potent man as his daughter was enough to give Raven added determination to see her dream come true.
When she had finally announced her intention to travel to Felk and apply to the school for magicians that Matokin had founded, there was surprisingly little resistance. Her mother had long since given up any hope of her daughter becoming a beauty and was increasingly at a loss to envision a role for her in life.
Raven's idea, though something her mother had never considered herself, had no small merit. Even if her daughter proved to have little or no talent for the magical arts, there was a far greater chance of her meeting someone to take care of her in Felk than if she remained where she was. As such, she sent Raven off with a small but respectable purse of silver that she had been saving, and far more enthusiasm than Raven had ever seen her display in the past.
Folklore had it that natural magical ability tended to appear most often among the nobility. This was supported by the fact that Matokin's closest political underlings were almost entirely picked from Felk's aristocracy. However, hidden talents turned up in odd places, and this seemed particularly true of magic.
Raven rested her head briefly on her arms and smiled at the memory of her own naivete when she had arrived in Felk and first presented herself at the Academy for testing. She recalled being puzzled when
the testers showed surprise at her voluntary effort to enroll.
Of course, at that time, she was unaware of the rumors that were now virtually accepted as fact. Specifically, that those having some capacity for magic, but of insufficient degree to invest training in, had a way of disappearing or suffering fatal accidents shortly after they were rejected.
It seemed that Matokin was disinclined to have unaffiliated magic potential wandering the lands he controlled, however minor that potential was deemed to be. As a result, the number of those willingly submitting to the testing dwindled to a trickle and finally all but ceased entirely, requiring the implementation of roaming testers to find new students for the Academy. These feared individuals traveled the countryside encompassing Felk.
Far from being repelled by these methods, Raven was struck with awe. How powerful a man he must indeed be, how sure of his vision, to act so drastically and decisively.
The Academy itself was a grim affair, a campus more resembling a fortress or prison, than a school. A high stone wall circled it, and the buildings within those walls that held classrooms and living quarters had a dull sameness about them.
The growing empire needed magicians, and students were hurried and badgered through their lessons and tests to fill that need. Felk was growing. The war had begun its southward push to take all of the Isthmus; for that was Matokin's goal. It was a heady thought, an exciting time to be alive ... if one could remain so.
What was more, as they were learning to manage and control the powerful forces of wizardry, they had to also constantly affirm and reaffirm their loyalty to Matokin.
Students were bound to the Academy by blood vows, literal ones, where blood was taken from a deliberately pricked finger, labeled with the student's name, and stored. It was said the blood could be used to bring harm or death to its source from then on, no matter where he or she was. It was a fine means of encouraging loyalty.
Raven, of course, had gladly surrendered her sample. She was already bound to Matokin by blood, she thought secretly, or at least, so she believed. Let her mother have been right about that one thing!
The students were also encouraged to inform on each other and even on their instructors, reporting any comment or action nonsupportive of empire policy, no matter how innocent or jesting. If it was learned that a student had failed to report such a comment, they were judged as or more guilty than the person offering the original offense.
