Out of Time

Becoming a Master Mage on Tris’Hath is, by no means, an easy task. In fact, only five percent of all those who apply would ever see themselves certified by the Council of Mages. The rest would be faced with lower level titles and jobs, always just out of range of earning the respect of their peers throughout the ages. Even with the completion of a second tower and the addition of a third Master colour, the odds of graduation did not improve. Yet, despite all the challenges, hundreds of youths tried each year to become the next Almond the Great, or Everest the Magnificent, or in a few unique cases, the next Mystic Dragon, Master of the Red Robes.

Lucia of House Ylthrx was one such unique case. From the moment of her initiation into the Mage Tower, Lucia had picked out the single most despised and resented mage in all of written history and made her an idol. Lucia imitated the Red Mage herself as much as possible. That was until the day her parents received a notice that any further misbehaviour on her part would be met with expulsion. The aspiring student ceased her mimicry, but not her favouritism. She was also a prime example of students that never made it past silver level.

”Lucia!” A panicked masculine voice called into the drafty bedroom. “Lucia! Lucia! LUCIA!”

With the last bellow, a boulder shape lump on the bed started five inches into the air and collapsed into a tangle of blankets. Red, silken sheets thrashed to and fro, working pillows into the artistic mess and finally expelling one very bedraggled girl onto the floor. The youth landed with a loud smack on the hard stones, then followed up with a yelp as the chill morning air seeped into her very bones.

”It’s about time!” The voice huffed again. “I’ve been calling your name for five minutes now! You know, you’re great-grandmother, Grendlevis of House Ressen would never have shown such bad behaviour. She was always up at the crack of dawn, eager to face the day.”

”Grandma Grendle also lived in a very backwards world.” The bruised and disgruntled girl muttered back. She fought with her green nightgown, finding it had once again twisted itself into a knot during the night. The more she struggled with it, the more it choked her. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that the ornate mirror hanging on the far wall wasn’t the only enchanted object in her room.

”It wasn’t backwards, it was efficient! You could stand to have a few ogres pounding on your door every morning! That, at least, would wake you up!”

”Shut up, Mal!” Lucia snapped, as she had snapped every morning for the past year. She was thankful to her parents for the generous birthday gift, but now she realized they had really been punishing her for her poor grades.

Malatarius van Iricus dana Venalta of House Ylthrx had once been a Black Master Mage of the royal blood line. Long ago, when the North and South both had kings, before the Cataclysm, his family had ruled on high. He had been a cousin to the then king ; most revered and feared mage in all the land. During the Cataclysm, he had been instrumental in the triumph of the hydra over the dragons. Not the smartest of moves he had ever made, he was able to admit now, but he had been a hot-headed youth then. His punishment had been eternal imprisonment in a cherished family heirloom.

At the time, the mirror had hung in his cousin’s room, right over top of the headboard. One could imagine the king’s surprise when he took his queen to bed one night, only to find his cousin criticizing his ‘skills’. The cursed mirror had subsequently been removed to the servant’s quarters.

For years afterwards it had been passed down through the royal line, if reluctantly. As a last tie to their greatness before the fall, Mal had earned grudging respect. Soon it had become his duty to watch over the heirs and heiresses of the Ylthrx name, regaling them with stories of their former glory. Then he had become a nanny of sorts, and finally a familiar to the strong mage blood that filled their line. Lucia and her father, Argothax, were the last of that line.

”You should be grateful to have my help, young lady! I was once-“

”Cousin to the last king of the North. I know, Mal.” Lucia returned in a tired tone. Her hands scrambled over the varnished wood of her dresser blindly, unaided by eyes that were still gummed up with sleep. A knot of unease had settled with annoying familiarity in the pit of her stomach. Despite having a nasal, whiney voice wake her up every morning, she still managed to be perpetually late. As she grabbed her hair brush and began attacking the tangles in her auburn hair, she turned towards the far wall and muttered beneath her breath. “Not that you remember anything from way back then. Senile old-“

”I heard that!” Mal snapped angrily.

An undistinctive shout from downstairs sent the knot of unease in Lucia’s stomach up to her throat. Her father only called when she was really behind schedule. Throwing on her yellow robes and grabbing her books, she hurried out of the small, stone-walled tower room that served as her bedroom and down the winding staircase.

In the kitchen her parents sat at the dining table, Argothax only recently have resumed his seat. A spread of bacon, eggs and toast decorated the simple, round table, each separated to its own plate. Argothax held a leather-backed book in one hand as he piled more bacon onto his plate, his bespeckled face pressed to the cryptic words on the page. His wife, Arianna, was sipping calmly at a mug of grogg. Shimmering silver robes curved around her frame, dancing beneath the sun’s early rays. As their unkempt daughter whipped past, a piece of toast was whipped off the plate faster then the eye could see. Only the clatter of the plate and the two remaining pieces of disturbed toast told of her harried passing.

”Don’t forget your note, honey.” Arianna called calmly seconds before the door slammed shut. A smile touched the corner of her mouth when she heard the latch click again and sandaled feet pattered quickly ‘round the table.

”Thanks mom.” Lucia planted a swift kiss on her mother’s cheek, her free hand curling tightly around the small slip of paper left out on the table. It was an excuse for the last time she had been late.

”Bye mom! Bye dad!” She called as she disappeared out the door a second time. The heavy oak slammed home, echoing down the stone corridor with an eerie clarity. A spattering of students wandered the torch-lit halls, but not quite as much as there would have been had she been on time. A few cast rueful smiles her way as she zipped past, her yellow robes making her stand out like a sore thumb.

There were seven levels of magehood before one could even consider becoming a Master. The lowest of the low were green robes. Lucia believed that whomever had decided the colour order must have been a comedian, because she couldn’t think of the green robes as anything but a play on their newness. Next came the blue robes, then the yellow like herself, after that was purple, brown, silver, and finally gold. Many mages stopped once they reached the metallic colours, seeing as the test to become a Master had killed more then a few. The handful of Masters who aspired to the most exalted class, Arkan’ai, came in no more than two or three each generation. To sit the Godsthrone was to invoke the wrath of the gods.

Lucia reached the stairwell within thirty seconds. Impressive given that her parents’ apartment was at the other end of the hall. Slapping her palm against the cold, smooth stone, she began to trip her way down the tightly spiralling steps with only as much care as she could afford. Several times she nearly stepped on her robes and went tumbling head over heels. Yet, after so many months of practice, she had learned how to avoid such accidents in the nick of time.

Reaching the main level, Lucia fought back the urge to drop to the ground and cut off her aching legs. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen and her heart was lodged somewhere in her throat, just under her tonsils. She made it to her designated classroom just as the teacher was shutting the door.

”Late again, Lucia.” The aging woman clipped off in a disapproving tone. She looked down her nose at the note the out of breath girl gave her, nodded, then waved her towards her seat. Gratefully Lucia readied herself to drop onto the stiff, wooden chair behind her desk, only to find that everyone else was still standing. Out of respect, and a desire not to be the odd one out, she put down her books and stood with the rest of her classmates.

”Now as I was saying,” Lucia turned her head to put an attentive eye on her teacher, but was sidetracked by an unusual flash of red seated in the corner. She stared, mouth slightly agape, as the white-robed Master continued. “We have a special guest with us today. Her Grace of Lanutha has asked to sit in on this lesson out of curiosity’s sake. Many of her own classes were regretfully not within the Tower. Class, say hello to Princess Mystic Dragon of the Red Robes.”

A chorus of humble greetings rose from the room full of yellow-robed students. Lucia heard herself squeak something incoherent, but by the time she realized what she’d done, the room had again fallen silent. Not one eye strayed from the mage seated in the corner, her hands calmly stroking the long neck of a draca in her lap. There was no mistaking her distinctive golden aura and staff, or the pastel coloured creature that had become her familiar. This was the Red Mage herself, in Lucia’s classroom. Thankfully the teacher requested that they sit in the next instance, else the slack-jawed girl thought she might have fainted.

The lesson passed in a haze for Lucia. She remembered bits and pieces that she knew were important, such as the list of potions that would be included on the exam. However, the struggle to get her to pay attention was a losing one, for she was wholly focused on the presence of her idol. Why was she here? How long would she be staying? Would she even notice a lack-luster student like herself? Lucia dreamed and hoped throughout the hour-long period, knowing at once that it was all futile. She knew other students spent their time dreaming and hoping for the attention of a boy or a girl usually, but what she desired above all else was to be known by someone she revered.

Finally, the teacher called an end to the day’s lesson and the students were excused. Lucia took her time gathering up the books she had so hastily grabbed little more then an hour before. She adjusted her yellow robes, trying to make them look as presentable as a walking yield sign could be. Sweeping back a length of stray hair over her shoulder, she stood up straight and marched towards the door, doing her best to not look like she was praying every second for the attention of the Red Mage.

Her wish was fulfilled, but not as she had hoped.

As she was strutting proudly for the door, portraying the image of an indignant cat with its nose held high, her shoulder collided with that of another and her pose was immediately thrown off. She stumbled backwards, clutching her unsettled books in a panic to keep them from falling. When she looked up through a veil of disheveled auburn hair it was to see the red-robed figure of her daydreams.

”Careful, child.” The Red Mage spoke in a low, calming tone. Her voice was warm, but not friendly. It held an edge that hinted at her underlying irritation, just enough to put the fear of the gods into Lucia.

”I- I- I’m s- sorry, Your Grace. I- it-“ Instead of finishing her mangled sentence, Lucia quickly turned and high-tailed it out of the room. She didn’t stop running until she had reached her parent’s apartment.

Meanwhile, Mystic turned to Aelis of House Vendesh, who had taken up teaching in her old age. A smirk quirked the edge of her mouth, adding a crease to her golden complexion. She mirrored the expression Aelis wore.

”She certainly is an interesting child.” The Red Mage remarked.

”Special, would be an appropriate word. She’s bright beyond compare, but so disorganized!” Aelis sighed heavily and draped herself across one of the student’s chairs. “Honestly, if her head weren’t attached to her shoulders then I’m sure she’d lose that too.”

Mystic chuckled, her golden eyes slipping towards the closed door. Her voice dropped to a low, thoughtful murmur as she thought of the person who had just passed that way. “Regardless, she is exactly what I need.”

* * *

Lucia flopped backwards onto her bed, half bent with her feet still on the floor. Her books scattered across the ground. Her robe bunched up and curled around her like a thread caught in the wind. One arm fell dramatically across her eyes, the closed fist sitting atop her tangled mass of hair. She released a long, loud, agonized groan.

”What happened?! Who died?!” Mal cried anxiously from across the room. Had he the ability, he would have been hovering over Lucia like a gnat.

”I did.” The grief-stricken girl wailed. “I ran into her!”

”You did what? Ran into who? Usually first meetings don’t warrant such dramatics.” The mirror retorted.

”No, I literally ran into her! Mystic! The Princess of Lanutha was here, in my class, and I hit her!”

”You did WHAT?!” Mal’s horrified shriek was nearly high enough to break glass, but just an octave too low to actually achieve that feat. Lucia winced anyways.

”It’s not like I meant to!” Sitting up, she swept her hair back from her face and stared earnestly into the mirror. “I was picking up my books and heading for the door. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going, but then I hit her! I bumped her shoulder and would’ve fallen if I hadn’t been so on edge.”

”Well, what did she say?! Was she angry? Back in my day, you would’ve lost your head for touching royalty!”

Lucia scowled, her lower lip jutting forward to show the fleshy underside. Grabbing a pillow from behind her, she lobed it at the three foot tall mirror. Mal shrieked again, his frame shuddering dangerously when the projectile smacked into the wall beside him.

“YOU COULD’VE KILLED ME!” His deafening roar was only just overshadowed by Lucia’s angry reply.

”THAT’S NOT WHAT I NEED TO HEAR!”

”I don’t care what you need, you little brat!” The last word was cut off in a squeak as Lucia threatened him with another pillow. When both combatants were calm again, if a bit irritated, Mal repeated his question. “What did she say?”

”She just told me to be careful. After that I ran away.” The yellow-robed mage replied sulkily. Her eyes were focused on her sandalled feet, which were kicking at the thick, billowy comforter as if it could be blamed for her misfortune.

”And right you should have! Take it from me, Lucia, you don’t want angry royals coming after you. They’re a vicious lot.” Mal’s voice was laden with elderly wisdom and gave the hint of a nod. Over the years, Lucia had learned to add actions to the mirror’s words. When he had hung in her parent’s room, he’d often threatened her with vividly detailed promises if she ever tried playing with him. As such, it had been easy for her to pick up on his more subtle gestures.

”Kettle calling the pot black.” She retorted. In the moment Mal used to voice his indignance with a series of non-verbal huffs, Lucia gathered up her hair and began plying it into a braid. She hadn’t had time that morning to tend to it, or the night before after spending several hours working out an arithmancy problem.

In fact, Lucia had next to no time for anything but classes and homework. She had no social life, only a few fair-weather friends, and couldn’t understand her classmates’ obsession with the opposite sex. Of course, she knew what having a boyfriend meant. She simply saw it as an unnecessary complication. Relationships took time and effort, and all of hers was dedicated to her studies.

The front door open and closed downstairs, followed by her parents’ voices raised in warm greeting. Lucia hadn’t been expecting guests, but at that point in time she didn’t care who it was. She’d just tell them she was studying if they called her down, as they often did when they had friends over. Lucia was apparently a common topic of conversation for adults.

”Well, now that you’ve ruined your social reputation for the rest of your life, don’t you have some homework to do, young lady?” Mal’s tenor voice always seemed to hold a note of disdain behind the layers of seeming good will. He no longer resented his lot in life, but he felt no more enamoured to his distant kin then he had over a thousand years ago. Lucia, however, had managed to garner in him a small kernel of intrigue. Out of all the descendants he had been passed to, the eldest sons and most promising daughters, the last remaining heir and the one sibling out of twenty that showed magical talent, she stuck in his mind as being the most challenging and the most interesting. Her work habits were atrocious, but her mind was developed far beyond her years. Mal hoped that through his tutoring, she might mature into that knowledge someday. It would also mean a modicum of regained honour for himself to claim a part in her upbringing should that event come to pass.

Lucia fixed him with a withering glare before dropping to the ground to pick up her books. Although her look was always reflected back at her, she believed that Mal ‘saw’ at least some of it. He could certainly see well enough when his own life was on the line.

An hour into her study, Lucia received the call she had been dreading. Her mother came to the bottom of the stairs and looked up to her daughter’s open door. Her voice had always been a source of comfort to the studious girl, but now it made her heart sink. Unless the gold-robed matriarch had a hole for Lucia to crawl into, she really didn’t want to respond.

”I’m doing homework.” She called back.

”Well you can put it down for a few minutes to come meet our guest.” Arianna returned, maintaining her cheery tone of voice. Normally such a response would have deterred her from asking again, but this happened to be a very special guest.

Lucia let out a frustrated sigh that seemed to be the trademark noise of all rebellious teenagers. However, her idea of rebellion was to take an extra few seconds to do what her parents asked, just to show that she was under duress. As of yet, they hadn’t noticed.

A few minutes later, Lucia hopped lightly down the stone stairwell that lead to the main room. The apartment was built on three levels; main floor, master bedroom, and then her room. There were other, larger apartments in the Towers, but Argothax had wanted something cozy and neat. Being the sole male heir of a considerable fortune in antiques, he could have bought the Grand Master’s own suite. Yet it was Argothax’s thriftiness that had kept their blood line alive and well up to this point. All others had been wiped out due to petty conflicts or debts owed.

Lucia had prepared herself for another long, boring sit down with her parents’ friends. What she walked into, however, was as far from her expectations as a dragon squeezing in through the window. There, at the dining table, sat the Red Mage herself. She held a cup of tea in her hands while her staff rested against the far wall. The aging princess smiled and chatted with her parents as if she had been there hundreds of times before. Lucia felt her heart give one violent jump, then lodge in her throat somewhere just below her tonsils.

”Good evening, Lucia. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” The red robed woman spoke when her eyes at last found the dumbstruck girl. Argothax and Arianna beamed proudly at their daughter, their hands clasped lovingly on top of the table. Were it not for the fact that she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was wide awake, Lucia might have laughed herself silly then gone back to bed. This was more then she could handle.

”Ah-“ She must have been gaping, because no other sound could be uttered by her unresponsive throat.

”Her Grace has offered us a place in the Drakmor Tower.” Argothax butted in quickly to save his only child the trouble of speaking and breathing at once. “Your mother’s going to try again for her Master robes. The people over there seem to be more... uh... tolerant of red robes.” He and Arianna exchanged a look, bright promise mirrored in their eyes. They had long planned to move out of the Towers, but life on the outside was difficult for a mage. Even one of Argothax’s standing.

”I will do all that I can for your family. It’s always nice to have new faces around the Tower. However, my purpose here was to speak to you.” Mystic’s voice took on a serious note as she came to the point. Cold, golden eyes fixed on the girl’s rigid stance and her fish-bowl eyes. She seemed almost to bore through Lucia in a matter of seconds while still remaining friendly and apart.

”Muh- me?” Lucia stuttered again. Later she would curse herself for always losing her voice around the Red Mage.

”Indeed. You see, I am short one rider in my Lead Wing. There are countless people eager to try for the position, but sadly no mages. I would like to have another Magi around for strategic purposes, and am more than willing to train them in all the necessary fields. This will, of course, mean that you’d have to stand for a dragon. That part is already arranged however.”

When the yellow-robed girl failed to respond coherently for a third time, or make so much as a peep, Argothax prompted her again.

“What do you say, Lucia?”

She fainted.

* * *

Her head felt as if someone had sat a dwarf on it and told them to hammer away at her skull with a pushpin for as long as it took to make a crack. In other words, it hurt. She groaned loudly and blocked out what little light seeped in through her lids by pressing one hand over her face. The other came up shortly afterwards to put pressure on her skull in a vain attempt to drive away her headache. There were birds chirping through an open window beside her head, which was odd since her window was on the opposite wall. Sunlight warmed her stomach and shoulders, leaving her legs slightly less warm due to the light’s cant. She was nevertheless very warm. Almost too warm. The Towers grew damp at times, but never so muggy.

”Morning, sunshine.” Her father’s sing-song tone pulled her fully out of her musings. She parted her fingers to make a slit for her eyes to peer through and found his smiling face. The square, clipped beard with its two white streaks was present in all of her memories. Argothax had never changed his style, even though the corners of his eyes had wrinkled a bit more and his short, wiry brown hair had thinned out at the temples. Despite the common saying that a beard made one look older, he always managed to look half his age.

”Where’m’I?” She mumbled through dry lips. Her tongue flicked out to moisten the cracked flesh, catching the edge of her robe at the same time. She grimaced from the faint taste of sulfur; a leftover of last week’s lab accident. Entirely not her fault. However, that was enough to get her moving at last.

”Our new apartment. We got a North-facing wall, I hope you don’t mind. Your mother wanted to see the gardens, I wanted to see the ocean, so we compromised.” He spoke as Lucia sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

”It’s about time you got up!” The familiar voice of her favoured enchanted mirror spoke up in a snappish tone. “I nearly got dropped in the move!”

”That was your fault for startling that poor rider.” Argothax retorted to the irate object.

”Well it wouldn’t have happened if Lucia had been conscious enough to take care of me!”

”Wait, we’re moved already?!” Lucia cut in before her father could respond. He turned away from the mirror, studying her surprised expression.

”We are.” He affirmed. “Your mother and I have been discussing the arrangements for a while now. We were intending to leave that day anyway, but we hadn’t counted on you fainting. The dragon riders helped us move in and get settled. It took no more than an hour with your mother and I enchanting things to pack themselves and the dragons teleporting back and forth.”

Lucia slouched back against her headboard, thankful to at least find out that they’d put her in her own bed.

”I’m sorry for the suddenness of this, darling, but Mystic wanted to get you placed right away.” Argothax soothed. He put a gentle hand over his daughter’s lax one and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If you really don’t like it then we’ll go back.”

”No!” The yellow robed girl was quick to respond. “No, I love it! It’s just... very sudden. How long was I out? Where am I going? Do I have to go now?”

”A full night, the Abstract Destiny, and yes.” Mal replied succinctly. He hung in the same spot he had in her last room, only this time the door was about a foot away from his frame. It was the perfect spot to catch sunlight in the early morning and reflect it back onto his lake waking charge.

”The what?”

”Don’t ask questions!” The mirror snapped. “Grab your things and lets go! You’re already late!”

There was a moment’s pause into which Lucia groaned and Argothax chuckled. He patted a brown leather satchel at the foot of her bed and grinned impishly at the disheveled girl.

”Don’t forget to say goodbye to your mother on the way out. We’ll come visit as soon as we can.”

Lucia sprang forward, catching her father in a hug and the satchel’s strap around one arm at the same time. She bid him goodbye, gave him an extra hug for thanks, then bolted for the door.

“LU-C-IA!” Mal screamed, at the end of which he was hastily torn off the wall, tucked under her arm, and born down the stairs at break neck speeds.