He leapt, spun, and twisted, swirling the blades around his body. Lost in the movements, his worries fled to the back of his mind and vanished, at least for a few minutes. A thin sheen of sweat soon covered his chest. Though he’d never be fast enough to stand toe to toe with a warlord, Damien felt pleased that he’d maintained his form for three years without a sparring partner.
After a couple of minutes he stopped and blew out a breath. “Enjoying the show?”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed me.” Ann pushed the door the rest of the way open and sauntered in. She wore one of her typically snug, low-cut dresses. “With everything a sorcerer can do, why do you insist on using those swords?”
Damien reabsorbed the energy in the blades, stripped off his gloves, and dug a towel out of his trunk. Why did he keep using swords? With what he’d learned the last few years he could destroy a small army with a thought, but somehow the sword still called to him.
“I guess it’s the discipline. To be a good swordsman you need perfect focus and balance. When I do forms it drives out all other thoughts.”
He finished drying off and reached for his tunic. It jumped out of his hand. He looked up at Ann, who smiled. “No need to put that back on so soon.”
Damien shook his head. He’d have to introduce Ann to Lizzy, they were a lot alike. With a thought he formed a bubble around his tunic and severed whatever thread of energy she’d attached to it. He pulled it back to his side of the bed and threw it on.
She stuck out her bottom lip. “You never let me have any fun.”
“Staring at your students without their shirts on might get you into trouble.”
She looked around. “There’s no one here but us. Are you going to turn me in?”
Damien grinned. He thought of Ann as an older sister; a somewhat perverted, often inappropriate older sister. He’d never do anything to get her in trouble and would happily cut the throat of anyone that did. “Of course not. Should we head up? Eli’s probably just getting started.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I suppose, if you’re not going to leave your shirt off so I can enjoy the view, we might as well.”
They left Damien’s room and headed for the stairwell. It was fifteen floors up to the testing chamber. Damien could have jogged up easily enough, but Ann wouldn’t appreciate it, especially since she wore her ridiculous four-inch heels. “Want me to handle transportation?”
“Save your strength for the test.”
Damien raised an eyebrow at that. He could replenish any power he used carrying them up in seconds and she had to know that by now. “Is it that bad?”
She turned serious for the first time. “No, it’s not bad, exactly, just challenging. I know you can handle it. You’re the most gifted student I’ve ever trained and your power still terrifies me a little.”
She conjured a little basket around them and it lifted them up one floor after another, until they reached the fifteenth-floor landing. The basket vanished and Damien opened the door for her. Beyond the door waited a short, black-stone hall. No silver broke the dark surface of the tiles. A little shiver ran through him. The atmosphere gave him chills.
At the end of the hall a black door marked with a rune of forbiddance blocked their path. Except on test days no one but the high sorcerers entered the chamber. A few feet from the door, as though to lift some of the foreboding a student must feel on his approach to the testing chamber, rested a pair of perfectly ordinary leather chairs.
Ann sat in one, but Damien was too anxious to sit down. He paced the short hall, eager to get on with it. After his tenth trip back and forth Ann said, “Will you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
He sat beside her and patted her knee. “Sorry. I don’t do well with waiting.”
“I see that. Have you heard from your friend?”
“Not since he left this spring.” John had passed his tests and gone north to apprentice to the master healer in the northern army. He’d also be stationed close to his father, which might be good or bad depending on the general’s mood. “I’m sure he’s fine. John has a knack for getting along with people. So, how does one go about becoming a high sorcerer?”
“It’s simple enough. Every ten years all the sorcerers in the kingdom come to The Tower for the gathering. Any full sorcerer interested in the job can stand for high sorcerer. We then hold a vote and the five with the most votes become high sorcerers for ten years.”
“I thought there were only four high sorcerers?”
“We select five then they chose amongst themselves who to promote to archmage. The archmage heads to the capital to advise the king on supernatural matters and oversee the Crimson Legion, the sorcerers in charge of protecting the king. There’s a lot of politics involved and most sorcerers aren’t interested in the job. That’s why Lidia has held the post of archmage for the past sixteen years.”
The black door creaked and swung open. Damien leapt to his feet a moment before a slumped-over Eli walked through. He looked up at Damien and shook his head. He’d failed. Damien clapped him on the back as he headed for the stairs. Eli was a solid sorcerer, and even if he failed this time he could try again in six months and pass it for sure.
“Damien St. Cloud.” A disembodied voice spoke from inside the testing chamber. “It’s time.”
He glanced at Ann, who shook her head. “You’re on your own. I’ll be here when you finish.”
Damien entered the dark chamber and walked to a circle of light in the center of the room. Looming over him, one at each of
