Chapter 2: Out to the Wild

She crept through the dungeon on stealthy feet, black armor shimmering around her body. One hand lay on the warm hellstone of her bow, the other hand gently tensing the taut red bowstring. Her green eyes, the same color as the dungeon walls, squinted ahead into the darkness. She had long chocolate-brown hair and bright flaming wings, and as she moved noiselessly through the quiet a voice spoke in her head.

Monavelle? it asked. What are you doing?

"I'm hunting for Angry Bones!" she squeaked in a too-cheerful voice that belied her dark appearance. "That's okay, right?"

I'm worried about you, Mona.

"Trust me, Calythé! I'm not a child. I know what I'm doing!" she growled indignantly.

The last time you said that, you almost lost an eye.

"ALMOST!" Monavelle shouted, dropping her bow.

We must gather soon, sister, said the voice firmly.

"Why?" she inquired, bending to pick up her bow.

I have deciphered last night's scrying vision. You must come immediately. Use your magic mirror.

"Okey-doke, sissy!" chirped Monavelle, extracting an opaque blue mirror from her pouch.

Monavelle? said Calythé's indignant voice. Please don't call me that.

Monavelle held up the mirror and allowed mana power to trickle into it. The mirror's surface cleared and there was a blinding flash - and then she was gone.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

"ORDER!"

Little Saffa sauntered in front of the desk and shouted, "Headmistress Embrea Holt, presiding."

"Thank you, Saffa," said Embrea from her high desk. Before her sat Emi and Ametha. "Now, Ametha Royale, you are accused of spying on Emidawn Rose."

"Emidawn?!" questioned Saffa, standing next to Emi's booth.

"It's just a name," Emi muttered defensively.

"I know I'm guilty, Embrea. Do what you will with me," said Ametha truthfully.

"Then I'm going to go decide your punishment," said Embrea, stepping down from the desk.

Ametha hopped down from her booth and trudged over to the other wall. Topaz was waiting for her. She buried her face in his yellow robes as he stroked her hair with one hand. "It'll be alright, sweetie," he promised.

Ametha shifted position. "I sure hope so," she sighed.

Emi and Saffa were watching Ametha and Topaz talk to each other. Green tears welled up in Emi's eyes. "I feel awful, Saffa," she sniffed. "This is all my fault. Ametha hates me now."

"Aw, c'mon, Emi. It was justified. She spied on you," said Saffa, standing up on tiptoe to stroke her back.

Emi burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. "This is all my fault," she sobbed again. Saffa looked up at her, tears welling up in his own dark blue eyes, not sure what to do.

Embrea returned and glided to Ametha's side, looking very much like some sort of flame effigy with her red hair and robes. "Ametha," she said softly, "I have decided your punishment. You will be banished from the Magicians' Guild for a year and a day, and the gem will be removed from your staff." Ametha hung her head, and Topaz drew her close and held her tight.

"Ametha?" asked Embrea quietly. Ametha opened one violet eye and looked at her. "I didn't want to do this," she continued, "but given your past transgressions and your history of troublemaking, it's the best thing I can do. We love you, but we'll have to let you go. Do you understand?"

In response, Ametha tore away from Topaz and fled in the direction of her quarters. Embrea waited, shocked, in the hall, and was even more shocked when Ametha came back holding the copper staff and laid it in Embrea's hands.

"Give the gem to Topaz," she murmured, her voice breaking with sadness, "to… to remember me by." Then she fled down the hall. Two violet tears splattered onto the floorboards in her wake.

Ametha gathered her belongings and went out into the entrance hall. Everyone was waiting in front of the great doors. All of the magicians were holding their staves, and all of them were crying. Saffa and Emi were holding hands, green and blue tears coursing down their cheeks. Embrea had bloodred tracks running down her face. Two golden drops slid off Topaz's chin as he tenderly put the great amethyst in his pocket. Even Thunder was crying; a single pearly white bead leaked from his remaining eye and left a glowing trail across his cheekbone. Ametha picked up the supplies the magicians had left her: a copper axe and pickaxe; some torches; a few potions; her prized grappling hook. Then she opened the doors and stepped out into the wilderness. She walked a few yards, then she stopped, turned, and looked back at the shining, colorful faces she had known all her life and might not see again. She blinked back a few purple tears, willing herself not to cry.

Then she turned back, proudly set her head high and straight and strode out into the forest.