Chapter Eleven: The Storm that Brews

Warning: Some language will be present in this chapter. Cover your eyes, children!
Gareth looked troubled the next time he and Mara had their practice. He didn't yell so many insults this time nor did he have his usual cocky grin when he dumped her on her rear after a single misstep. After that flat practice, Mara was ready to rip out his hair but his sullen depression seemed to seep into her and hung like a gray cloud over her head, making her languid.

"We're having some complications," he said finally, without her prodding.

She blinked but merely listened.

"Codatorta wants to get rid of you before your midterms."

"Why?" She felt rage start to boil up in her. She didn't regret starting the fight with Gregori; he didn't deserve to be in the hands of the likes of Gabriel. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to be pried from Red Fountain, not without proving herself.

"Some of the deans of the school are also pushing for it," continued Gareth, listlessly. "They got wind of your little stunt with Prince Gregori. They're pouncing on that as an excuse."

"No… We cleared it up! I'm still serving detention for that!"

"I'm fighting it," Gareth said grimly. "And I'm bringing in every damn favor that each of the teachers owe me. They're not throwing you out of Red Fountain for something so small as a yard brawl."

Mara looked at him in awe and no little gratitude. "Gareth… thanks," she said softly.

"You can show gratitude by fixing your forms!" he barked at her but flashed a thin yet sincere smile.

Mara was startled at just how much support she had garnered, especially with the teachers. Professor Hawkins of Linguistics sniffed contemptuously after one class and muttered a few interesting curses that Mara made a note of to properly translate later, murmuring his outrage at possibly losing one of his most promising freshman students. Professor Marguerite shook her head from time to time when she spied Mara, before absorbing herself with some newly hatched wyverns (the more idiotic cousins of dragons and somewhat less dangerous, thus fairly safe for a beginning Creatures class). Tiberius of Geography stroked his beard and scowled, before demanding Mara serve at least part of her remaining detentions with him instead of in the armory, to help him with his newest research on the planet Earth.

Chaucer and Professor Lenore were two interesting cases on the other hand.

"Sit down, my dear," Professor Lenore ordered one afternoon. Mara limply but gracefully sat down, as per her lessons.

Her near semester with the professor so far had been… interesting. First, she had passively pushed back at every attempt of the professor's to make her unconsciously feminine, to absorb all the mannerisms learned. Then she had mutely acquiesced to some things, if only to satisfy her Etiquette professor. Having sword practice with Madame Ruri helped if only that the venerable lady also tutored her in ladylike skills along with dispensing sword philosophy and bouts of fencing.

Mara carefully folded her hands on her lap as the stern, stiff woman regarded her with eagle eyes. The woman considered her for a long moment and said, finally, "Well then… Miss Frey I must say that suddenly- you've improved."

"I have, ma'am?" The question was entirely innocent this time.

"Indeed. Something about your demeanor has… changed, if only in your unconscious movements and gestures." Professor Lenore paused. "Normally I would have you take two Etiquette finals, however… I am willing to… bend the rules, just a touch."

Mara patiently waited.

"I would like you to aid in teaching of the boys in some of the more complex dances, as a female, in return for my cancellation of your exam."

Mara considered this. "I would be delighted to oblige," she said, carefully.

"By and by, Armsmaster Codatorta and the school deans have of late been, most… trying," Professor Lenore said rather dryly. She didn't quite scowl; that wasn't her style, but the lines at the corners of her eyes deepened and her lips tightened. "I will have you know, Miss Frey, that I am not fond of having favorite students. I merely do this for the love of a family member."

"I understand, my lady," Mara murmured demurely but was startled. Madame Lenore… supporting her? What a surreal day.

Chaucer left her equally bewildered.

Though technically, it was Gareth who started the whole thing.

During one of their practices (one which had gotten decidedly more spirited), Gareth tossed back his hair. "It turns out, the charges were dropped."

"What?" Mara nearly dropped her weapons where she stood. She knew better, on the other hand. Madame Ruri had beaten her the last time she dared drop a weapon.

Gareth nodded. "So have most of your detentions, other than some of your study periods with Tiberius."

"Any reason?"

"Chaucer spoke out for you," Gareth said. He had an odd expression on his face. "He wants you as a teacher's assistant."

"What!"

Chaucer kept her behind in Survival class, making her clean up some odds and ends he had in his battered but serviceable classroom (used when they weren't doing actual field study). The craggy faced young man tapped his torn fingernails along a desk as she gathered up selections of dried herbs.

"You're serving the remaining time of your punishment as my teacher's assistant," he said brusquely. "That entails cleanup duty, assistance in demonstrations, and personal study."

"Yes sir."

"I am harsh but I can be reasonable. But the time you have with me with be dedicated to me alone and nothing more."

"Yes sir."

Chaucer had removed a pair of gauntlets from his rough collection of harsh weather gear and armor and was rubbing at his wrists. Mara caught glimpses of scar tissue running up and down the man's naked arms, as she re-categorized the herbs into their respective jars. She quickly averted her eyes.

"Do you have anything to ask?"

"No sir." Mara knew better than to ask the burning question inside her currently.

Chaucer chuckled softly. It was a cynical sound but held a hollow echo of what had undoubtedly been a very, very mellow and soothing voice. "Curiosity is not your weakness I see, like so many of your sex."

"It depends, sir." She knew better than to contradict him on that rather misogynistic compliment.

Chaucer yawned wide without regard for manners, revealing a set of glittering white teeth with slightly pronounced canines. Mara, however, didn't feel any particular fear at seeing the curious fangs. "Those who are known as problem children are of two extremes," he said conversationally. "The rotten and the brilliant. In a land of tales… I wonder how an… unconventional student will do."

Now that made Mara shudder, as she finished stoppering the last ceramic bottle and waited for Chaucer to dismiss her.

At this point, Mara hadn't felt the stirrings of her magic, not yet. Still, tension filled her, as though an invisible avalanche haunted her steps constantly, just waiting to tumble down on her. It was not a pleasant feeling. She had long since bullied Gareth into fixing her clothes, though he could do nothing about shoes ("Too complicated," he shrugged helplessly), but he hadn't taught her the spell itself.

"It's not active yet, but will be very soon," he said, annoyingly calmly.

"Then why was I brought here?" Mara snarled, slamming down a pile of books on her desk. "If that blasted magic isn't even active!"

The lights started flickering and the floor beneath them trembled, just slightly. Gareth looked up in alarm and his eyes grew very cold as they turned to look at Mara. Mara felt something like ice touch the back of her neck as some invisible force started to press at her. She couldn't move, she could barely breathe, and she felt mindless fear further paralyze her joints.

"Don't make me rein you in like that again," Gareth said icily. "As you can see, your magic is subconscious. If you do not have control over your emotions, you can release devastation untold, especially onto yourself."

The steady pressure suddenly released and Mara could breathe again, albeit with some difficulty. She stared at him and could see the power that wreathed him. Cool blue lightning shimmered around him in an intricate lattice, vibrant and dizzying. But the illusion suddenly vanished and Mara quickly sat down, chastened.

"Yes, someday you will grow into your powers," Gareth said softly. "But until then, you must rein in your emotions, lest they destroy you."

He left early that particular time, leaving Mara to finish her homework on her own. Her body still vaguely trembled in remembering the force he had slammed upon her. She shuddered inwardly and tried to focus on her work, even as the hand holding her pencil still shook, lending clumsiness to her usually passable handwriting.

By the end, she had gone through most of the reference books that she had slammed down in her brief tantrum earlier, and out of boredom, she flipped through the superfluous ones. As she flipped through a particularly large one, she found a smaller book between the pages. She pulled it out, examining it with interest.

The book was rather slim, bound in fading black suede that still felt like velvet beneath her calloused fingertips. It had no particular title or inscription, marked only with a curious black spiral design with several prongs. She opened it carefully, feeling the covers rub against her fingers like soft prickles. There was no title page or other niceties, only neat, prim handwriting that filled all the pages top to bottom without a single margin to spare.

"Magic," it read. "Should not be defined by spells and potions. These are mere processes in which the Will is impressed on the environment. It is with the aid of Magic that these processes are able to be effective, for design without means is only in the mind of the creator, unchanging, unable to make its mark upon the world beyond the recesses of the mind."

Mara was fascinated and continued to read, falling asleep on her desk soon after with her mind buzzing with the curious philosophy rife in the little book.

In between her new busy schedule, Mara found herself wrapped in the curious little book. It was heavy stuff; she often had to reread paragraphs from time to time. Yet passages haunted her memory and seemed to stay there. As she set up for a brief lesson on wound stitching in Chaucer's class, she went over a meditation exercise.

"The force that is present within the soul, the mind, and the heart must be tamed before it is released. Stray sparks set aflame the brush around the fireplace, as will magic destroy when carelessly released."

As she went over dance steps, she thought about the movements of magic.

"Magic, like water, trickles through this world from every being. It will follow constant paths and gather into pools. What it meets will influence its affinity, where it comes from will determine its nature."

It was W, of all people, who elucidated some of the trickier passages for her, as well as getting her started in basic spells. He hadn't come into her room for a pleasure visit; on the contrary, he wanted something.

"I don't see why you have to come to me fix your injuries," she complained as he nursed a sizeable cut on his hand. It wasn't a pleasant sight, as it wasn't a clean laceration but a jagged tear across his skin that bled sluggishly despite his attempts to keep it closed.

"Shut up, woman," he growled, shaking back his greasy dark scarlet ringlets of hair. "You're the fix-it-all student here."

Mara glared at him. "Get that blood washed off first," she ordered, pointing to the washroom. He gave her a baleful look and sulkily went to do as she ordered.

Mara sighed as she pulled out her first-aid kit while W was washing. W came to her now and again with bruises and cuts and multiple injuries. She didn't ask where he got them most of the time, one time having caught him with a rather nasty scrape on his forehead from an accident in front of some other classmates, only to see him dismiss it but sneak to her room not long after for treatment.

W came back, having wrapped a towel around his hand. Mara inwardly winced before making him sit down in her desk chair and started swabbing the cut with alcohol. He looked away; he was not particularly fond of blood, despite his cavalier manner. His eyes fell on the slim book of magic Mara had been reading.

"What's this?" He picked it up with his free hand, deftly managing to flip it open.

"Don't!" Mara nearly dropped everything, staring in horror.

W's black-red eyes turned to stare back at her. "It's a Grimoire," he said, voice odd. He turned the book in his hand, looking at the cover. "Huh. It's not of any school that I know of…"

"How did you know what it was?" Mara asked, curious despite herself.

"Research for my great uncle. I destroyed my mother's moonflower trellis so- hey!" W yelped as blood started welling up again. Mara was quick with the towel and started dabbing on some of the healing ointment she had recently gotten from Gareth.

W considered the slim leather book for another moment before putting it down, even as she started bandaging the wound. "What are you doing with this? Unless you've been doing more than fencing lessons when you slip off with Gareth to Magix at midnight."

"I found it," Mara said irritably.

"And reading it. And presumably practicing?" W turned his odd eyes to her.

Mara winced slightly. "Ah… I hadn't gotten a chance."

"Good," he grunted. "Otherwise you could have burned the building down around our ears, Frey."

"Hey-"

W cut off her indignant reply with a thoughtful remark. "Huh. Tell you what… I'll help you."

"What?"

"Are you deaf as well as stupid, woman? I'll help you. Most of the spells in this sort of thing anyone can do. This is a novice's book."

"Oh, and you're a sorcerer?" Mara asked scathingly.

W gave her a shark-like grin. He held up his free hand and a brilliant ruby flame burst into life, hovering above his opened palm. His hand closed and the flame vanished. "I know enough," he said succinctly.

"What do you want from me then?" Mara asked warily. She knew W too well at this point. No matter how much of a good heart he had (deep down inside his grizzled, bastardly shell), everything had a price for him.

"Nothing." He flapped his bandaged hand at her dismissively. "Nothing at all. Just a favor once in a while."

"I'm not doing your homework or dating you," Mara said sternly.

He gave her a dubious look. "I have enough fresh meat to bully into doing my assignments and Frey… The day I date you is the day you grow breasts and shrink half a foot."

"Tell you what, try washing your hair and I'll see what I can do," Mara retorted dryly. He growled and aimed a punch at her. She squeezed lightly near his bandaged hand and he yelped out an inventive curse.

So that was the start of her magical education. W was an astonishingly good tutor and patient when he put his mind to it, though he had a tendency to be more arrogant than ever with her. She got him to quit after she nearly set his hair on fire during their first "official" spell lesson.

However, even as Mara sailed past the most rudimentary of magic, namely meditation to gather her personal power closer to her, shields and wards to protect herself and her awakening powers, and basic spells, such as fire starting, she started encountering difficulties. As W started going onto more complex spells, she hit a metaphorical wall.

"Why isn't this working?" Mara demanded, failing to enchant a mirror with a scrying spell for the third time. She was sweating, her muscles trembling. The plain mirror sat innocently before her on the dusty surface of a spare storage room W had managed to find for them to practice in.

W looked pensive. "It isn't for lack of power," he said finally. "You've got plenty of it. But… I think at this point, your powers are locked from you."

"What does that mean?"

W sighed, running a hand through his oily hair. "You have limits, Frey. You just hit them. That's all you're going to be able to do for a while."

"Damn."

"Don't worry about it. Your potential should come through sometime."

Mara sighed, hardly mollified despite W's rare and odd reassurance. She picked up a can of ice coffee (now fairly warm from long term exposure outside a refrigerator) and absently (though not without shielding) used one of the very small spells to chill it again. Her hand grew very hot, an unfortunate side effect, but when she used her other hand to open the can and lift it to her lips, the drink was as cold as she liked. It was a fairly useful spell, she admitted. A sudden question rose in her mind.

"I wonder if this would work on Earth," she thought aloud.

W, who had been drinking from a suspicious looking flask, turned to her. "No clue," he said succinctly.

"Oh, thank you, that's of such use." She eyed the flask. "By the way, drinking too much is bad for you."

She received a dismissive, scornful gesture from W as he took another swallow.

Beyond the magic lessons, Mara had to study at double-time by this point as mid-terms loomed closer and closer. It was nearly Christmas but she wouldn't be getting a break anytime soon, as she went over maps of galaxies, giant books of runes and hieroglyphics, diagrams of ancient battles, and lists of medicinal herbs.

She didn't bother ruminating on Christmas, though there was a lingering thought in the back of her mind about going to her grandmother's house for supper (a sensation that sent the mind and the taste buds reeling) and how she needed to find something for her older brothers that wouldn't break her limited bank account. But that was insignificant for the moment, as she forced herself to go over yet another family tree, yet another battle formation…

"Gah…" Nathanial was sprawled over a giant armchair like a discarded doll, staring up at his parlor's ceiling as if held the secrets to the universe. His hair was disheveled, half of it roughly leaning in the opposite direction, like the nap on a velvet cushion, though his ponytail was as secure as ever.

Marcus and Thorne looked equally exhausted, flopping over each other like kittens on a sofa. Their hair veiled parts of their faces. Mara leaned against Nathanial's armchair, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples.

"We made it," Nathanial croaked dramatically. Mara was too drained to hurl so much as an insult at him.

Exams had just finished, at least for their academics, held one right after the other in their lecture halls. It was enough to drive anyone completely out of his or her head (Mara had spotted one or two boys trembling and pale who were on the verge of nervous breakdowns). Mara didn't bother even thinking about exams at this point, too exhausted by nerves, lack of sleep, and thinking to even fall into a coma-like sleep.

The rest of her classmates would agree, or at least her closer friends. Mara looked the worst of all of them, by popular consensus. Her hair was limp and oily, her normally tawny complexion more like ashen gray, and giant black circles resided under her heavy-lidded eyes. She had a pounding headache between her temples but she was too tired to even think of making the trek to her room, which was some distance away from Nathanial's.

She would have to take a bath later, she thought dimly, as long as she didn't fall asleep in the tub.

Gregori all but crawled in a little later, looking ashen. He had hesitantly joined their group, despite Nathanial's initial contempt. However, they had hit it off not long afterward, having similar irreverent senses of humor though Gregori was a close relative of Marcus', which explained the two's remarkably similar cherubic appearance.

He came bearing gifts, which explained his pace, mostly consisting of junk food, soda, and coffee. Everybody stared blankly at it, all of them unable to move. Mara then sighed, getting herself up slowly as she toddled over to the hoard and picked out some ice coffee. That single act seemed to instigate the rest of them. Nathanial levered himself out of his chair; Thorne and Marcus started unwinding from each other gingerly.

The cold caffeine revived her and made her feel a little more human. The headache started fading once she started to walk a little bit around the room.

"Damn… I need to go to the armory later," Nathanial complained aloud.

"Detention?" Thorne asked.

"No… I need to pick up some equipment because of our practical exams…"

Everyone else froze in place and stared at the prince of Popularus. Then panic ensued.

"Dammit!"

"Oh, shit!"

"Nat, you freakin' moron!" The inhabitants of the room started hurling cushions at the hapless student.

Mara was lucky in having Gareth to be an obliging source of information for her last test, a practical exam of Survival and battle skills in a virtual simulation chamber, which would be the sole determining factor in her stay at Red Fountain.

"Of course, it's no excuse for you to have done badly on your academic midterms," Gareth had said matter-of-factly and shot her such a ferocious look that if she hadn't studied her brains out, she would have considered moving to Alfea, fairy or not.

He went over the process with her as she sipped tea after taking a shower, which had done wonders for her mood.

"All you're allowed is what you can carry on your belt and in your hands," Gareth said. "You're allowed most kinds of equipment… except for the obviously unacceptable, including magical destabilizers, even if they would work on the simulation chamber you're tested in."

Mara picked up a notepad and started to make a list. "Well… I suppose I won't need my medical pack, or at least a full one."

"Don't be too sure," Gareth warned. "One year a boy got poisoned. He figured since it was virtual reality it wouldn't harm him. Unfortunately, the psychosomatic effects knocked him unconscious for two weeks… It's best to treat everything in the simulation chamber as real."

Mara rolled her eyes and they bickered amicably for the rest of the evening until they had come to an agreement and Gareth left the room after getting her the equipment she needed for her exam, which was the first one of testing day. She couldn't sleep, however, and found herself going to a stack of spellbooks on her desk.

W had recommended them to her to read as theory and one or two of them were part of her Languages class. She went over the elegant words, trying to understand them. Mara wasn't so stupid as to do spells in her room but she sought to see them, just as she saw the simplest spells in the slim book she had first found and did them without any problem after reading them. But the search was fruitless so she turned to the original grimoire.

By now, many of the passages were familiar and she glossed over them in the manner of one reading a cherished but long memorized poem. She got to the pages she couldn't understand, the spells that W couldn't teach her. But they didn't make any more sense. She frowned. Then she got to the very end of the book. There was no conclusion at all to it, just one last potion recipe for fertility. She picked at the edge, noticing that the paper inside of the leather volume was peeling from the covers. It slickly peeled back, revealing three more pages, filled from top to bottom in neat, miniscule writing.

She scanned it as quickly as she dared. But the new addition was merely made up of more spells. There was an odd stanza of writing she could not decipher before the last paragraph.

"Magic is not merely in the air, the earth, or the water, but all around, existing in all plains of reality and unreality. It is at once surrounding and penetrating. It is not for a book or even a mentor to tell of its nature, however, so I wish you well in all your endeavors…

Mara Frey."

Mara stared at the last words, disbelieving. She looked up and down the page, utterly bewildered. Her eyes then fell upon the stanza of once undecipherable writing. They burned on the page and soon into her mind, words that made no sense at all to her conscious brain but irrevocably in her memory, even as she fell into deep, deep slumber before her eyelids even closed.

Gratuitous Author Babble (GAB):

Thank you very much, the three of you who were so good to review! I've had a nice little vacation and now have more ideas and initiative to write. I'm starting to wrap up Under Shadowed Wings and the first story arc of the adventures of Mara Frey.

In the future:

A short Christmas story for Mara

A summer vacation story (probably a short)

Mara's sophomore year at Red Fountain