Part One can be found here

The apprentices got their ten minutes, heads bent together like little boys preparing to jump out on somebody. Scarlet had given up hating people quite a while ago, though with these three, it was sorely tempting. She would, if possible, settle for ignoring them. Once she’d kicked their butts.

She couldn’t ignore this lot though. As she opened the book, and held it in front of her, they were staring, one muttering to himself, the others leering at her. It really was like being back at school. She faltered, glancing over her shoulder at Martin, seeing the blood still dried on his face, the bruises showing through. Not so much like school.

She returned to the spell, trying to pick it up again, and continue the chanting. She was more aware now, and felt it in the back of her head, like someone was shoving their thumbs into the soft bits just above her neck. It made her want to be sick, then it suddenly flowed out, like water from a bottle, and the light burst into life before her.

It wasn’t as strong as the one she’d made in the Underworld, weak enough, in fact, that she could see past it, to the apprentice who had been chanting, and was now holding his hands before him, palms down. Martin had made it quite clear early on, that the use of hands was for showoffs and amateurs only.

Whichever they were, it didn’t matter, because in the air above her ball of light, what looked like a thick, dark blanket appeared, and descended over it. She felt it, a stinging in the front of her head, that made her blink and steady herself. It got worse as the blanket got lower, and she tried to ignore it, to focus on the light.

It worked, for a moment, the blanket stopping, the light growing more powerful, but the pain got worse, and she groaned, putting one hand to her head. The blanket resumed its sinking and she screamed, hands grabbing at her hair.

She’d lost the first one, if she lost this, everything was done, and finished. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t. She gritted her teeth, wincing, staring at the ball. She could do this, she could, she just had to…

She could see the apprentices grinning, the two who weren’t casting, high-fiving one another and shouting typically childish things. How could they be older than her? Weren’t older people supposed to be more mature, and nicer and stuff?

This wasn’t happening. She stared at the light and poured everything into it, all the crap that had happened in the last day and night, all her anger and frustration. It grew and grew, until she had to cover her eyes, peering between fingers as the blanket got smaller, until a more accurate description would have been flannel. Then it vanished.

The crash sounded, the apprentices staring at her with wide eyes. She flashed them a smile, taking a few steps back. Her head throbbed, and her legs were shaky. Her heel struck the steps and she managed to turn her fall into a quick sit down, sighing with relief as she relaxed.

‘Joanna Slater, you have been victorious in the second conflict. The count stands at one victory each. This final fight will decide your fate.’

He was enjoying this. They were all enjoying this. She’d always imagined wizards and stuff had some kind of higher civilisation, or at least, didn’t watch X-factor, or laugh at videos of people falling off things. This was no better than everyone crowded round a fight at school. Worse, actually, cos they were adults.

She shoved herself to her feet, clambering up the steps and over to Martin. She knelt, seeing the different look in his eyes, and liking it. ‘That was pretty good, huh?’
He smiled, nodding. ‘Yes, that was pretty good. You surprised them.’
‘But not you?’
He rocked his head from side to side. ‘You have the power. I wasn’t sure you could access it.’
‘I can’t do it again, I feel pants, completely rubbish.’

He nodded. ‘It is draining. The power surge will not work again, if they are smart. They will counter your final spell in some other way, even assuming you have enough energy to do it again.’
‘But how come they can have three of them? It means they’re fresh and I’m knackered.’
Martin nodded again. ‘That is but one reason this is so unfair. I’m sorry, Joanna, truly.’

She patted his shoulder, pulling her hand away quickly as she felt the heat pouring off him. ‘What did they do to you?’

He looked down, brows coming together, and shook his head. ‘Don’t think about that, think about what is before you, what you have to do.’
She nodded, grunted slightly as she pushed herself to her feet, and walked back down into the circle. The crowd hushed, and she waved her hand in the air. ‘Don’t mind me, please, talk amongst yourselves.’

She stood in front of the three masters, chin held up, trying to look casual, trying to not clasp her hands together and look down. ‘Are you enjoying the show so far? Is it what you wanted?’

She wasn’t sure where the words came from. Her lip was bleeding from where her teeth were worrying at it, but all she felt was anger now. She was probably still scared. Terrified would be closer, but it was buried, the image of Martin tied up and bleeding chasing it away with fire that could only escape through her words.

The master in the centre inclined his head slightly. ‘You are indeed impressive, Miss Slater.’ He hadn’t got the sarcasm, at all. Or maybe he had, and decided to ignore it. Which was actually more annoying.

‘So, are there any other rules you’ve forgotten to tell me? Anything at all?’
All three paused, then shook their heads. ‘There is nothing else.’
She nodded. ‘Good. Well then.’

She showed them her back and walked into the centre. She’d realised, just as she asked them, how she was going to win this. It was ridiculous, but why not? They were acting like children, so…

She stepped into the centre, and cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, really, you’re too kind. For my final performance, I shall be executing the simple, ‘for the creation of fire.’

Next Installment Friday 27th December

Part One can be found here

Scarlet took the three steps down into the arena, keeping her eyes focused on the three masters, and not on the hundreds of people watching. If she did, she’d start sweating, and that would be it, just, completely the end of it. The master’s voice boomed out again.
‘Welcome to the Council. Today, you will fight for the freedom of your master, and yourself. Usual tradition would be for you to create a spell, and your opponent would have the opportunity to counter it. The magician that proves more powerful wins. However, the three apprentices standing before you have all claimed grievance, so you shall battle one after the other. You shall be judged from the best of three.’
The hall was silent for a moment, then conversations burst out all over. She turned, looking up at Martin, who shook his head and held his hands up. The journey here had exhausted him, his eyes barely open. There was no help there. Not that she needed it.
The three apprentices before him were, like, little boys. I mean, not actually, but the way they were acting, it was like the boys at school, only there was no way any of these guys had ever had an actual fight. She bit her lip, telling herself she believed she stood a chance. It was that or run away.
The grand voice filled the room again. ‘Do you have any questions?’
She shook her head, stepping closer, then held her hand up. ‘Sorry, there is one thing.’ She turned to look around the hall. ‘Don’t you lot have anything better to do, you know, homes to go to or anything?’
She was rewarded with a chuckle from the man on the platform, though most of the watchers glared at her.
‘Miss Slater, please, choose your first spell.’
‘Um, what, you want me to tell you what it is?’
‘Indeed. How else could one be expected to create a counter for it?’
‘Well, if this is a fight, then shouldn’t it be harder than that, like, they shouldn’t know?’
The assembled watchers gasped, like she’d walked into church and told them god didn’t exist. This was weird. She shook her head, the master staring at her, waiting. She threw up her hands.
‘Fine, fine, tonight, I shall be performing ‘for the creation of a spirit guide.’
The master nodded, as the three apprentices fell into a huddle, talking furiously amongst themselves. Scarlet took out her book, and found the page. She’d done this one with Martin a few times, and it felt good. Also, her spirit guide was cool, and owlish, and would make her feel good, assuming she got it right.
She spoke the words slowly, carefully, and as soon as she had finished, a cloud slowly coalesced before her. Martin said it coalesced. She thought it appeared, but apparently that was the right word. When she’d asked him what it meant, he pointed at the cloud and said. ‘That’s what it means.’
It began as a white dot, no larger than her thumb nail. Then strands of white and silver emerged from the dot, like threads waving in a breeze. As more and more appeared, they merged, forming a cloud. Once it was as large as her head, it took shape, the head of an owl appearing in the air before her.
The three apprentices noticed what she had done, and began shouting. ‘What, what’s going on, you can’t do that, we aren’t ready.’
She blinked, and jerked her head forward. ‘I’m sorry, you aren’t ready? Really? Well gee, I am sorry, honestly, so sorry.’
Her owl was almost complete. He wasn’t quite normal; his eyes were too big, and he had massive wings, but he looked cool. He was not quite transparent. She could see the vaguest shapes through him, but he felt solid as he perched on her hand. She threw him up and he spread his wings, circling around the hall, and diving toward the apprentices.
They scattered, one tripping over the steps and falling on his arse, the other two running, hands over their heads. She cackled, and she wasn’t the only one. A number of the audience were laughing as well. He circled and came back to land on her hand.
A clash sounded, like cymbals, and the master intoned. ‘Joanna Slater. You have failed the first conflict, due to your failure to follow the rules.’
The owl flickered, and vanished as she stalked across the ring to look up at the master. ‘What bloody rules, you didn’t tell me the rules. I won, fair and square, they didn’t do anything.’
The master shook his head slowly. ‘Once the challenger has declared her spell, the defender will have ten minutes, and no less, to prepare their defence.’
She looked at him, mouth open, shaking her head. ‘So what, one-nil to them then, yeah?’
The master nodded. She thought he maybe was trying not to smile, but whether it was with her or at her, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she cared either. That had been her best spell, the easiest thing she had. She shook her head.
Martin was watching her, brow creased, and he shrugged slowly. She bit her lip. It didn’t matter, she’d win the other two, easy. She had to.
She turned around, staring at the apprentices. They were talking still, throwing glances her way and laughing. Her stomach flipped over and she clenched her fists. Right.
She spoke loudly. ‘For my second trick, I will be performing, ‘for the making of light.’ She paused. ‘How long would you boys like to work out how to beat a sixteen year old girl?’

Next Installment Monday 23rd December

Part One can be found here

She could give up. The thought was mighty tempting. It would be easy. She could find a quiet corner of the room, curl up, and refuse to talk to anyone. They’d drag her into the main room, or arena, or wherever it was she was going to fight, and she could just be curled up and someone would do something horrible and it would all be over.
Scarlet moaned, and pushed herself to her feet, walking slowly back to Martin. ‘Can I give up now please?’

He tipped his head to one side, the ghost of a smile playing across his swollen lips. ‘Of course you may. You have already done more than I could ever have expected.’
She blushed, looking at her feet. Her shoes were a state, soggy and covered in dirt. She got to buy converse maybe once every couple of years, tops, and these were like, her favourite pair. That was all it took. ‘What do I have to do. I mean, I can’t fight.’
Martin shook his head slowly. ‘You will not be fighting, not how you imagine it. The Council has grown ‘civilised’ in recent decades. It will be a power show, nothing more.’

‘So what will I do?’
‘You will choose a spell, and cast it, and your opponent will have the chance to counter it. Whoever comes out on top will win.’
‘What if I do a ‘get me the hell out of here’ spell?’
Martin chuckled, wrapping his arms around his chest and wincing. ‘There are wards on this place, powerful wards. You will not be leaving until they decide you may. Why do you think I am still here?’
‘Well, you were, you know, tied up…’

He looked at her and she gave him a sheepish grin. He nodded uncomfortably and went on. ‘What you must focus on is putting yourself into the spell. When we are practicing, in a safe place, it is easy, but when you are surrounded by people watching, and it is a matter of life or death, it will be quite different.’

He paused, coughing. She moved closer, putting her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her, moving so he could sit properly. ‘The power you have, the inate power, is as much a part of you as your personality, the things you love and hate, then beliefs you hold. You must put all of that into your casting. We have spoken before about opening yourself, letting the magic come from within. This is where it must happen. Do you understand?’

She nodded, and shrugged. ‘Um, yeah, I think so?’

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded in return. She pulled the spell book out, thumbing through it to find the things they had worked on. ‘What about ingredients?’
‘They will have them, everything you could need. Like I say, they are ‘civilised’.’
She nodded, not sure why he was putting emphasis on the civilised, but maybe she should, so she kept quiet. He was breathing hard still, gasping against whatever was hurting him and she watched, frustrated at there being nothing she could do. She spoke softly.
‘Martin, about why you’re here. Is it to do with your wife?’

When he looked up, she recoiled. The pain she had seen before in his eyes was nothing compared to this. It was like he was carrying something, some huge weight she couldn’t see, that bore down on him, threatening to crush him into the ground. He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

Martin cast his eyes around the room, and gestured slowly with one hand. ‘We shall talk about that after we leave here. There are ears in here, Joanna, and they will hear everything.’
She nodded, and they fell into silence.
‘I thought you said I needed to prepare.’

He laughed quietly. ‘I did, but in truth, there is little we can do. Look through your spells, choose one you feel good about using. Revise it, ensure you can speak it properly. That is all I can tell you now…’

He looked back down at the floor and her heart lurched, becoming heavy. They had to get out of here, just so she could see him feeling something other than sadness. Her world was shifting and coming apart and she wasn’t sure she could handle it. Like when mum and dad started shouting. She’d been young enough to not know what was happening, but everything else had gotten so much harder.

They sat in silence, until the door cracked open and one of the younger men came through. He spoke in the same, affected and silly voice. ‘You will follow me, now, both of you.’
She almost said something, but cut herself off. What was the point? If she came here to study, would they make her do the voice? There was no way she was even attempting it. Then again, the robes were pretty lame as well. What good’s a robe that only comes to your knees?

She helped Martin stand and together they walked slowly from the chamber and out into the corridor. The lights were brighter here, and she squinted as they made slow progress toward wherever it was she was going to fight.

Eventually, the man stopped before a door, holding the handle and muttering quietly. The door clicked open and he pushed it, gesturing for them to precede him into the room beyond. They hobbled through together and paused, just inside, looking around.
There were four chairs again, but they were higher up, and bathed in shadow. Three of them were full. So three of the four had decided to come and watch her. That was nice.
Around the edge of the room, chairs sat on a series of steps, three deep. They were filled with men and women, of various ages, all wearing robes or the black outfits her first captors had worn.

The conversations petered out as the audience noticed them, until the room was silent, and hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on Scarlet and Martin.

The middle of the room was empty, a large circle, maybe as big as a large classroom. Standing across from her, in front of the three masters, were the three men who had first found her when she came into the Council. They wore identical, smug, smiles, all staring straight at her.

So, being stared at was up there with having a knife held to her eye, and physics lessons. Being stared at by a bunch of people who didn’t like her was, like, a hundred times worse. She jumped when one of the masters spoke, his voice booming and grand.
‘Miss Joanna Slater, please, step forward into the circle.’

Next Installment Friday 20th December

Part One can be found here

Scarlet had a tissue, crumpled up in one of the pockets, and she tried to wipe the blood off his face, but it was dried and hard and every time she touched him, he moaned and pulled away. Martin was unconscious, or at least, trying to be, and she sat back on her haunches, looking up at him.

He was a mess, and she grabbed at her jeans, clenching her fists to stop the tears from coming. Her lip was wobbling and she reached out, touching his shoulder as gently as she could, and whispering. ‘Martin, wake up, it’s me, it’s Scarlet.’

He hissed, pulling at the bonds, which she saw now were bands of leather, dark brown and smooth. ‘Don’t say your name.’ His voice was different, lower and rough and slow. She nodded, although he still had his eyes closed. ‘It’s me, Joanna, your apprentice.’
Now his eyes did crack open. ‘Joanna?’
She shrugged. ‘First thing that came to mind. Lots of people asking me who I am tonight.’
‘They’ll do that.’ He coughed, his shoulders bulging as he strained against the bonds. ‘Well done. Why are you here?’
‘Um, you’ve missed my last two lessons.’

His eyes were dull, lifeless, but now they opened wider, and he chuckled, shaking his head at the obvious pain. She sat back again, laughing also. ‘Yeah, I was wondering if you could, you know, maybe give me a catch-up sometime.’
‘Well, I’ve not much on my plate right now. What would you like to learn?’
‘Who are the ladies?’
His head snapped up, eyes burning into her. She’d spent the last six weeks seeing him as a slightly odd, sort of hunky but old sort of person. But he wasn’t that anymore. His eyes were haunted. He was, she realised, actually alive and doing things when she wasn’t there. He had a life, and stuff. Weird.

‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Well, um, I sort of met them.’
His head dropped and he sagged in his bonds. He shook his head again, slowly this time, before looking back up at her. ‘Why, uh, Joanna. Why did you meet them?’
‘I was looking for you.’
There was silence for a moment, and he nodded. ‘As did I. My first time. I would be happy to not do so again.’

The effort seemed to exhaust him, and he slumped, his head resting on his chest. She stood, picking at the leather on his wrists. It was tied tightly, but she could pick at it. She bent, talking quietly into his ear. ‘Can you stand, and take the pressure off these, please?’

He looked into her eyes and she winced, looking away before she could see the pain in them any more than she had to. She put her shoulder in his armpit and tried to heave him up. He helped and stood, swaying slowly. She pulled at the bonds, loosening them bit by bit. The leather was wet with sweat and blood and almost glued together, but she got it apart, losing only one nail in the process.

When his right arm dropped, he staggered forward, and spun slowly round, his weight centred on the other bond. She put herself in the way and he bumped into her. She almost fell over. He was far heavier than he looked. And almost naked. And pressed against her.
She bent to the task of the other bond, finally pulling it clear, only just managing to stay on her feet and take his weight. When the leather fell away, he collapsed, taking her down as well, so they lay in a heap. The smell of blood and sweat was strong, tickling her nose and making it itch.

She shoved him as gently as she could until she could crawl free, and sit up, peering down at him. His eyes were closed. The blood was coming from tiny holes, where the skin had been ripped open and still hung, little tags of flesh. There were burns also, the skin tight and discoloured. She stroked his hair, peering around them into the dark.

She started when the door opened, lifting her head off his shoulder. Her eyes were gritty and her mouth like she’d drunk loads of coke and not cleaned her teeth. How long had she been sleeping? What would mum be thinking? Was she supposed to be at school? She was, yes, it was Thursday, how cool is that?

The man she had spoken to earlier stalked into the room. He was one of the four, part of the Council, but he still couldn’t quite get his robe tied properly, one hand fiddling with it as he strode in.

‘We called a meeting.’
Did he want a response to that, round of applause maybe?
‘It has been decided that you may fight for your Master’s freedom. It is an old tradition, but one you may be worthy of. You have an hour to decide and prepare.’
He turned to leave and she tried to put her thoughts into some sort of order. ‘Wait, hold on. What happens if I don’t fight?’
He stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘When I say you may fight, what I mean is, you will.’

She scrambled up, her knees cracking. She flew at him, hands outstretched to do what, she had no idea. He spun, his own hand raising and she stopped, completely. She was trying to move, but nothing was working. What had he done?

She sagged, her body going limp. He stepped closer, staring into her eyes. ‘What you should have asked, is what will happen if you lose.’

She didn’t have the chance to ask, as he strode from the room. When the door slammed behind him, the spell stopped and she staggered and fell on her face, swearing as her head struck the stone. She sat up, rubbing it and groaning.

Martin was watching her, eyes open completely now. ‘We must prepare.’

Next Installment Wednesday 18th December