Chapter Three
Don't worry, I'll help you get better at your magic, Artiz had said. He must be the biggest liar on the planet right now. His “help” consisted of bludgeoning her on a daily basis while other students watched and whispered. He insisted that the cold would do her good, help clear her mind and strengthen her weak little human body.
He sure said a lot of nonsense like that.
Now forced to move into the school, Seon lived in a dormitory by herself. Instantly, this put her at a disadvantage to the other pupils, because they bunked in twos and threes, regardless of age or magic. It set her out from the rest, made her unique in a place where people’s livelihoods depended on their magic, and everyone was special, one way or another. And because she didn’t demonstrate any latent abilities, people wondered just what exactly she was doing in such a place at all. Especially as Seon was forbidden to reveal what magic she used.
Artiz, of course, chose to make things much more complicated by waking her up first thing in the morning. Before dawn, even. The banging of the door got her out of bed in a foul mood, and as soon as she opened the stupid thing, despite being in a nightgown, Artiz whisked her off outside. In the cold. In a nightgown.
“Since we have no idea how to prepare you for the magic,” he informed her helpfully as she shivered her way through a third push-up, “we’ll train you instead physically and hone your mental concentration. You will learn to endure the elements, the pain. You will become fitter, and your mind will become sharp, like a knife. As long as you stop whining. You humans, always so afraid of us dragons, always thinking you get the worst of it, but truthfully, you can’t even take the cold. Can you?”
“You realize it doesn't take long for me to collapse with hypothermia, right? Do you want me to die?”
“Oh, don't worry. That's another little benefit magic gives you. You're able to regenerate slightly faster than a normal person. And you certainly won't be able to die from something as basic as this.”
Artiz grinned like a demon as Seon collapsed on her fourth push-up, arms trembling, body throbbing in pain. She’d never trained her muscles like this. Never trained, period. Her face squashed into snow, and it bit into her cheeks, freezing her from the inside out. She felt fairly certain that if she stayed out here for much longer, she'd become a statue.
“C-c-can we g-go inside, n-now?” She scowled at Artiz since he appeared smug at her suffering. Two students on the side laughed with each other – a man in his early thirties, a woman a few years younger than him, entwined in a way that suggested they were intimate with one another. And here was Seon, doing exercises in her nightgown.
“Two more push-ups. Then you may crawl inside.”
Seon snarled and got up anyway, and Artiz immediately appeared behind her, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her into the snow.
“Three more push-ups. I’m your trainer. You will not disobey me, or it’ll get worse.”
“Fuck you!” Seon spat.
“Four push-ups. Keep talking, we’ll stay out here until you actually do freeze to death. I mean, you shouldn't, but let's not test that theory, shall we?”
Seon shuddered, her teeth chattering, her arms trembling. Still clutching her hair, Artiz watched as she shivered her way through one push-up, while the couple openly laughed. The laughter came as needles into her skin, spreading a sense of humiliation.
Two. It hurt. She didn’t have the strength for this. Her lungs struggled with bursts of air, her bones felt like they were about to break…
Three. Her body shook violently. She barely managed to push herself up halfway, and Artiz corrected her posture, pushing down on her spine. He released her hair when she finished the fourth one, then left without a word.
Growling, Seon dragged herself indoors where she sat by a fire for about an hour afterwards, warming herself up. Part of her was surprised hypothermia didn't set in. At these temperatures, she shouldn't really be alive right now. Or she should be confined to bed while she shivered her way back to normal temperature.
Guess it's true. We can resist more than we should.
Still, threatening to keep her in the cold infuriated her. She hated Artiz. How was she anything more than a slave in this scenario, subject to his training whims?
Eating inside the canteen proved an ordeal as well. She lined up to get her food alone, and the students were already grouped up, openly staring at her, about eighteen of them altogether. Not having any friends made Seon lonely and resentful.
She couldn’t do the writing studies at all. Her grammar was barely better than a child’s since she’d never been formally taught. Seon was an unknown. A whore’s daughter. Somehow, people had found out and she had no idea how. Zannis had mentioned nothing of this past, and Seon doubted the woman was prone to petty gossip like that. Artiz didn't know anything about it. So how? Were there mind readers amongst the population? Did they skirt her thoughts as she passed them, and snicker behind her back?
Seon ate alone. Her mind brooded over the implications of that, and over Artiz's heavy-handed treatment to empower her magic. She picked at her squashed vegetables, a tendril of dark green hanging from the fork. One girl approached her, and she discreetly examined the newcomer. She looked probably around twenty, so a couple of years younger than Seon. She walked with a confident bounce and slammed her tray down next to Seon.
“Hey, new girl.”
“Hey,” Seon said, surprised that none of the food had leaped out of the tray. The girl herself had dark blonde hair, fish-belly white skin, appearing out of place in her heavy gray robes, which seemed to dwarf the slender figure within. Not exactly pretty, not exactly ugly. A nose that pointed too sharply, a jaw that might have been too square at the wrong angle, and a sharp chin which gave her a witch-like profile from the side. However, her eyes shone a glorious blue, like twin oceans.
Seon also sensed the personality underneath with a quick probe. Harder to sense humans compared to non-living objects, but she caught a glimmer of hardness, of an ice that didn’t go away. It reminded her a little of Artiz, except his was protected by a mental fort, so she kept running into walls when trying to suss him out.
“I’m Isera,” the girl said, and they shook hands. More mutterings erupted from the others around them. Did they not approve of Isera doing this? Isera turned narrowed eyes on the nearest group of people. “You can ignore them. They’re mostly wondering what’s so special about you that you get a room to yourself. When you’ve shown no talent at all and can barely read the first sentence in a book.”
The insult slapped Seon, and she clenched her jaw.
Isera appeared not to care, however, about the people watching them, and gave a little smirk. “Me – I reckon you’ve got something special. Or you wouldn’t have Artiz working you to the bone right now. They want to get the magic out of you. They crave it.”
Those blue fixated on her, generating a sense of unease. Did Isera expect Seon to talk about the type of magic she had? “I’m under instructions to not tell you anything about what I can do.”
“Oh, I know. You’ll need to watch out for that one there,” Isera said, jabbing a finger at a dark-haired, brown-eyed man with a square jaw and dark gray robes. He picked at his soup and bread, chatting to a plump woman. “He’s got the same power as Zannis. He’ll likely want to get the juicy secrets out of your brain.”
Seon gulped. Could he be the one who found out about some of my past? “Why are you telling me this? You have no reason to.”
Isera shrugged. Her blue eyes darkened for a moment. “You could use a friend, I think. Whether that friend will be me is another matter. Though I suspect you’re important to know, one way or another.”
Seon furrowed her brow. Was Isera a spy? Someone who wanted to gauge the information out of her for another purpose?
Why would I even think that? What's even the point in her being a spy?
Still, a part of Seon didn't think that everyone in this school would get along with the cause. There must be some here considering selling out this entire school to the wyrms. Unless Zannis’ mind-reading dug deeper than she admitted.
Regardless of what Isera might be, Seon would be a fool to push her away now. Not when Isera braved sitting next to her, getting the stares and judgment of the others who looked down upon Seon. She was willing to rid herself of all ties to them, just for associating with Seon. That merited some kind of trust.
Let’s see how long it’ll be before she regrets this decision. Or if I will.
“What’s your magic, Isera?” Seon leaned on her elbow, figuring she wasn’t in a position to refuse any potential hands of friendship. May as well start off with Isera. Personal training with Artiz might take years, especially with the methods he employed – and with the fact that Seon's access to her powers seemed erratic. What fun. Years and years upon a lonely mountain, freezing in robes as she went through gruelling exercises, all in a half-baked attempt to strengthen her mind and body for the magic it contained.
Not exactly an appealing thought.
“Oh, I’m a fire mage,” Isera replied. She clicked her fingers, frowning, and a puff of flame appeared, before winnowing out. “I’m pretty good at kindling fires, and throwing tiny fireballs.” She then grimaced. “Though that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Still not good for fighting wyrms, who are immune to fire. Mostly.”
“Wait. Fighting wyrms?” Seon instantly became alert.
“Something most of us here will end up doing,” Isera said, her lips thin. “Someone needs to stamp that scum off the planet.”
Again, Seon caught a glimpse of that cold place and vengeance. It displayed in Isera’s eyes. It frosted over her heart.
For whatever reason, Isera hated the wyrms even more than Seon. It made Seon think for a moment. She didn’t normally sense others’ human essence. She sensed tables being proud of being tables, swords thirsting for blood, and shields worrying after their masters. Uncomplicated souls, fragments of something as complex as a human, always humming the same set of thoughts in their creation. Molded by the ones who made and observed them.
Yet, with Isera, if was as if all her thoughts and emotions were locked up in an icy fort. For protection? Or a disguise?
Probably best not to pry too deeply.
They continued chatting for longer, picking at their soup and bread. Seon gave a watered-down account of her life, talking about the whorehouse she grew up in.
“A whore’s daughter, knowing magic? How despicable,” one of the humans spat, finally interrupting the conversation. A blonde-haired girl, lighter than Isera, who had a pretty face, but a hard, ugly set to her expression. It marred what might have been impeccable beauty. Nothing beautiful about a woman who showed envy and spite upon her features. Her drake companion, a man fifteen years her senior, merely avoided eye contact, not wanting to get into any disputes. He didn't seem particularly interested in helping his friend, either.
“That would be Edith,” Isera said, flashing a venomous smile at Edith. “Hey, pond scum. Got that broom out your ass yet? Because it’s been wedged in there the entire time you’ve been in this place.”
“Look at you, toadying up to a whore,” Edith spat, fingers digging into the table like claws, food forgotten. “But I suppose she’s your type, isn’t she? Maybe you should both go off and fuck each other.”
“She doesn’t like me,” Isera explained airily to Seon, “because I don’t take her shit and I’m a little… honest about some things. You could say she’s a prude. Comes from a well-bred family and all that. Or, as well bred as you can be for a human.”
Seon smiled for the first time, a genuine one that spread across her lips and heart. “Oh, she doesn't like you? That’s a shame.” She deliberately leaned forward, brushed Isera’s hair and nipped at her ear, before winking to maximize the performance. “If you do want to learn any techniques, I’m sure a whore like me will be up for it.”
“Oh, really?” Isera began grinning, too. “That’s good, because I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to bed a woman. Is it soft? Boring, since you don’t have dangly bits?”
“Easier. We don’t need the dangly bits to come. Just a good tongue and a few fingers,” Seon said, and Edith rolled her eyes, disgusted. Some people stared at them in revulsion, others in amusement, and others still with curiosity.
“Foul creatures! Come, Sigmund. We’re going.” Edith began pulling the drake with her. Seon and Isera burst into laughter.
“Are you really going to do that stuff with each other?” The man who spoke appeared slightly too interested. He had that nervous jitter to his chin which denoted a lack of confidence. Seon saw those types in the brothel all the time. They came sneaking in, eyes darting around, unsure if they could be here or do what they came to do. Her mother always sent those first-timers to the women who knew what to do with their bodies, and could command to make others do what they wanted. It gave them an experience they’d never forget, and got them hooked on coming back again.
“Oh, yeah,” Seon said, giving him a lecherous wink. “Of course we are. We're gonna do all the things.”
“Ehem.” Artiz slunk into the hall, hands behind his back. “If you have time to waste on frivolities like this, then you’ll have time to waste with me in training in five minutes.” He fixed his gaze upon Seon, who gave a nervous smile, mood instantly dropping. The other women in the place discreetly dedicated some of their attention to him. Apparently, Artiz had that ability to turn heads and to make a room fall silent with little effort. A gift, perhaps.
“Yes, sir.”
Artiz nodded and left. Isera clamped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I might have gotten you into trouble.”
“Nah, you did nothing wrong. Tell me more about yourself.”
Isera smiled. “I'll tell you a little. But there's some things I'd like to keep for myself, if you don't mind.” Seon nodded, expecting Isera to maintain that lock upon her mind. “The place I come from is a mining village, overlooked by a big estate. Most humans mined precious ores in horrible conditions. I'm talking of lung-destroying conditions. There's a noxious gas in the mines that corrodes a person's lungs over time.”
“Oh...” Seon stared in horror. “That's awful! You worked there?”
Isera shook her head. “No, actually. I was born in the estate, so I grew up as a house servant. Slightly cosier life, but still... unpleasant. Just not as unpleasant. I had a friend in the mines, actually. I used to go and visit her. Wonderful singing voice. Sometimes I wonder how she's doing. If she's still around, you know. Or...” Isera's voice trailed off. She gave a helpless shrug, betraying tight anxiety within.
“You didn't want to leave her behind?”
“No. But I also knew I'd be found out soon. The wyrm of the estate entertains a lot of guests every lastday, running fights and musicians and so on. People connected to this school went there as well, and a Sniffer took me aside to say they'd get me out the next lastday. I agreed... though I do wish I could have taken my friend.”
Seon nodded. She suspected Isera wouldn't give the exact details of her life, all the shit she'd gone through. The idea of the mines loitered in her mind as a dark, evil place, with people slamming pickaxes into rock, their bones jarring with each hit. Coughing from whatever disease invaded their lungs.
“These mines... how do they replace their slaves when they lose them?”
Isera tapped her fingers on the edges of her tray. “It takes a long time, I believe, for the gas to completely destroy their lungs.”
Seon thought about the place she came from, the trials she went through. She didn't have to worry about her lungs giving up on her. She did have to take care with the kinds of customers she received, back when she attempted to scrounge enough money to leave that life forever and start anew, with something more respectable.
People never wanted her to forget what she used to be, though. Despite the fact that everyone's bodies were breaking down, one way or another, or doing things they hated. Somehow, they considered someone like Seon the lowest of the low. Some didn't even consider it a hard-working job. Just lying there and allowing people to do whatever they wanted.
They didn't know that it twisted Seon's heart to be in such a situation. To be treated like filth, to have all dignity stripped from her, to risk her life each time for that one vile individual who had given up everything.
“Well, I'd love to talk more, but I think someone's late for their daily abuse by Artiz,” Isera said, grinning.
“Oh, don't remind me...” Seon slumped her head into her arms on the table. “I swear, he's not helping me at all. Just hurting me.”
“Oh, don't worry, he's helping. It doesn't seem like it now. And he's a bastard for sure, but it really does help to train your mind and body. The magic becomes more accessible. Well, you go. I'll finish eating your tray...”
Seon laughed, and they made a quick promise to meet up again. If Seon survived Artiz's training, of course.
With a heavy heart, Seon headed to her next lesson, hoping her body wouldn’t break down. Hoping as well he'd never drag her out in her nightgown again.