Maybe I did pull Josef astray with me. Perhaps, if not for me, he would been a better student; a better Sourcerer. I certainly have a history of pulling people along on capers they would rather choose to leave well alone.
We slipped through the academy corridors like a summer breeze, ducking into alcoves or open doors twice when we heard nearby footsteps. Josef was scared of getting caught, I remember the fear plain on his face, but I was not. To my young mind we were on an adventure and adventures were always exciting, not scary. These days I know that they are usually both; and I still can't resist them.
I knew exactly which door we were going to explore. It was on the second floor of the Academy Archives building. The Archives were full of old treasures and priceless artefacts, or so all the other students said. I believed the older students without question at the time. It wasn't until later on I learned the Archives had a much more sinister purpose.
The door was polished brass with no handle and no keyhole. The hinges were on the room side and there was a not enough gap between it and the floor for a breath of air. I had no idea how the door might open. My imagination ran wild with the possibility of what we might find inside.
Josef followed along, always on the lookout for any tutors we might stumble upon, or any who might stumble upon us. It was against the rules for students of our age to be out of our dorms at night, and even more against the rules for us to be in the Archives building without supervision. Josef never wanted to come on my adventures, but he always enjoyed them once I dragged him along.
We had a short conversation about the door itself. It is possible to enchant items, and nothing holds an enchantment quite like metal, but I got no feeling from the door, no tingling sensation or otherwise. I have travelled the world and I have never found an enchantment that is undetectable. Some leave shimmers in the air, while others make the hairs on my arms stand on end. Some magical traps are almost undetectable, especially to the unwary, but there is always a tell. My sensitivity to enchantments has saved my life on more than one occasion.
Eventually I focused on the Source in my stomach and tapped into its power. I was young and inexperienced, and it took a lot of concentration to summon a portal, even more to sustain it while Josef reached through and fumbled against the other side of the door. Through the portal I caught glimpses of the treasures that lay inside and I felt my heart quicken. I had to calm myself to keep my concentration. I have seen portals snap shut on people before and I did not want to have to explain Josef's severed arm to our tutors.
The door was bolted from the inside and Josef was panting by the time he managed to pull them back. In his defence, he was only eight years old and small for his age. After Josef withdrew his arm, I let the portal snap shut with a sigh of relief. I was quite sweaty and exhausted. Magic wasn't so easy for me in those days. Just carrying a Source in my stomach was uncomfortable enough, but drawing upon the power within left me feeling leaden inside. All thoughts of discomfort left me when we pushed open that door.
The room inside was large and open without a window and no lanterns hanging from the walls. Yet there was light, bright and powerful. Josef hesitated but I stepped quickly over the threshold and gawked in wonder. In the centre of the room, in a glass case on top of a plinth was a crown made of fire. It sat on top of a red cushion, yet the flames did not set its cushion alight. I squinted as I stared at it, longing to reach out and touch it, to see if the flames were hot. I am as fascinated now as I was then by the Crown of Vainfold, and these days I know that the flames are hot as a forge fire but they do not burn. I have worn it only the once, and only then to save my daughter.
To our left, secured to the wall by four steel staples, was a sword almost as long as I was tall. The pummel was a yellow jewel, but as I looked closer I realised it was a small Source, glowing with the power contained within. The blade drew the eye, it bubbled as though the metal were boiling yet also kept its shape. I remember staring at the patterns moving and changing on that blade for a long time. I might still be there now, but for Josef pulling me away, breaking the trance.
Josef dragged me towards the final treasure in the room. From a distance it looked just like any other kite shield polished to a shine, the flames from the crown dancing across its polished surface. But when I stopped in front of it I realised the shield's surface was mirrored. Instead of seeing myself in the reflection, I saw an older woman, scarred and grim, a snarl on her face. She stood in front of rift formed of darkness and terror, and tears of sadness fell from eyes that flashed with the fury of a storm. At the time I thought it was my mother; I wondered what could have happened in the year since I had seen her last to turn her from basket weaver to the hardened warrior I saw before me. The truth, had I realised it then, would have scared me far more. I watched her lips move but could not hear the words. If only I had heard her warning.
I returned to that shield twice more in the years before the academy fell to the Terrelans. In its polished shine I saw many things. I saw myself die at the hands of ruthless killers, beaten to death for the insult I had given. I saw myself leading a great army of monsters and men against a foe that could not be killed. I saw myself standing in a desert, staring up at a great portal, through which a God stared back. The glimpses it gave me of my future saved my life at least once, and may yet do so again, one day.
Tutor Olholm found us. When we finally turned away from the shield the old man was standing in the doorway, watching us. Olholm was never one to get angry, but even young as I was, I could see the disappointment on his face. The other tutors were not nearly so passive.
That fat fuck, Prig had survived and was waiting for me outside the garrison and he wasn't alone. As the soldiers escorted me back into the tunnels, I could see three figures loitering, lit by the flickering of a nearby lantern. The first I recognised as Prig, though he had a swathe of bandages wrapped around his neck. Even from a distance I could see the red that had seeped through. The bastard might have survived, but at least I'd repaid him for the wound on my cheek. I recognised another of the figures as Prig's friend who operated the wooden lifts. I didn't know the final man, though I guessed he had a similar intent to the others. They were waiting for me and I doubted it was to celebrate my defiant stupidity. No, without the overseer's protection they were going to fucking kill me.
There are two options open when confronted with overwhelming odds. The first is to meet those odds head-on with blade, magic, or guile. The second is to show the odds your arse and hope you can run faster and for longer than them. I had no idea how to use a blade. I hadn't so much as tasted a Source in almost half a year. And I was fairly certain no amount of guile would get me out of the beating I had coming. So, I turned and ran.
It has to be said that sprinting down a twisting staircase is not a wise decision under any circumstance, but fear has a way of making people stupid and I am no exception. I ran as though my death were chasing me, snapping at my heels. And it was. Without the protection of the overseer, Prig would kill me for stabbing him. It was a challenge to his authority, far beyond my casual defiance.
I heard shouting coming from behind and up the stairwell. Heavy boots slapping against stone. Curses drifted after me and I heard Prig, already sounding out of breath, threaten me with violence unless I stopped. I laughed at that, shrill and wild. There is nothing quite so liberating as laughter. So, when the axe is falling, you might as well giggle at the executioner. Of course, laughing with broken ribs quickly turns into hissing in pain.