Andrew Ognev - The Chronicles of the Elders Malefisterium. Volume 1. The Ordeal of Freya

He thought he had cut off the stranger’s arrogance. However, the stranger didn’t change his behavior. He stopped circling around and was now looking straight into Vlad’s eyes.

“Introduce myself? Who needs such formalities? What if you fail the trial?” the boy asked in a low voice.

“What trial? I don’t know anything about it!” Vlad’s throat became dry with fear, but his face remained calm.

“You were invited to the Academy not for your good looks,” the boy sneered. “You have to prove that you deserve studying there. For that, you need to be able to survive.”

“To survive?”

“Before I take you to the portal, I need to make sure that you are the kind of person we need,” the boy’s pupils dilated, turning into two black abysses with shining stars at the bottom.

Silence hung in the air.

“What do I have to do?” Vlad asked, without waiting for an explanation.

The stranger’s eyes glistened with excitement. He spread his arms wide to the sides as if he wanted to hug Vlad.

“Nothing difficult! All you have to do is to beat me in a fight.”

Vlad thought Peter was joking, and reflexively took a step back.

“You want me to fight with you?” he couldn’t believe his ears.

“These are the rules,” the stranger shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t invent them! I just have to test you.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Ha-ha-ha! Who cares?”

“Don’t I even get a say in your world?”

“You are not in our world yet,” the stranger said. “And, after all, haven’t you heard the saying ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’? We have our own rules. You must follow them. Otherwise, I will leave and you will miss your only chance.”

The stranger looked as if he did not care at all: He talked about a fight in an unengaging voice, as if Vlad was a plant or a bird. He even turned away, staring at a bush.

“So, I’ll be going now?” he asked without a backward glance.

“No! Wait! I will fight!”

“Oh, thank you!” the stranger took a bow, pretentiously. “To make it less frustrating for you, consider this fight your entrance test.”

“Are you serious?!”

“I’m dead serious. You heard me – I didn’t invent the rules! If you pass, you belong to us. And if you don’t…” the palm of his right hand burst into flame.

The orange glow of fire lit the stranger’s face and eyes.

The next instant, a ball of fire was swooshing toward Vlad. He barely dodged it, but his shirt caught fire. Vlad tore it off, the buttons fell down to the ground. Bare-chested, the boy ran into the forest. Hardly had he reached the trees when a wall of fire rose in front of him. He was taken off the ground and thrown right at the stranger’s feet. The fire was still blazing in the stranger’s hand. Hitting the ground, Vlad got the wind knocked out of him. The stranger leaned over him and smiled wryly.

“It looks like there’s been a mistake at Malefisterium,” he shook his head sorrowfully. “Apparently, you are an ordinary human being. But,” the tone of his voice changed, “I like you. I’d like to teach you something myself, but alas!”

He threw his hand up in the air: Time seemed to slow down. A fiery tail flashed through the air. Vlad snapped his eyes shut and thrust his hand out, protecting himself. He knew he couldn’t stop the ball of fire, but was reflexively trying to keep the fire away from his face.

The fight

A flash of blue light.

The flame in the stranger’s hand burst and threw him off.

Vlad opened his eyes.

His opponent was lying nearby, smoke coming from his hand and the right side of his face. Vlad came up to him, staggering, and knelt down. The skin on the stranger’s hand and face got burnt and was smoking. Some of his hair, the right eyebrow and the sleeve of the shirt were gone.

Vlad realized that the boy was not going to live through such injuries.

The tears came to his eyes.

“So many events on one day, and now a murder,” he lamented. “That’s a fine kettle of fish… It’s a good thing that Father Konstantin is not around. He would never forgive me… What have I done? But I didn’t know! How am I going to get to their world now?”

Vlad bit his lip and passed his hand gently over the healthy hand of the stranger.

The next instant he felt he was suffocating. And immediately he realized he was hanging in the air, and his throat was held by the scorched hand of his opponent. He had sprung to his feet swiftly and now clearly intended to break Vlad’s neck.

“You know, I could have easily burned you to ashes,” the stranger hissed out, though without confidence, “and scatter your ashes to the wind. Then, I would say in the Academy that the crystal responded the wrong way.”

Lilac-colored mist began to flow over the scorched arm of the stranger. It covered the shoulder and the injured half of his face. The boy waggled his head, shaking off the heavy mist.

Vlad opened his eyes wide with astonishment: No trace of injuries could be seen, and the skin didn’t have any burn marks. All the traces of fire vanished from the shirt. The stranger loosened his grip, and Vlad felt the ground under his feet. He fell heavily onto the grass.

“I have to give you credit,” the stranger said in a calm voice. “You managed to surprise me. And it means that you’ve passed.”

Vlad was sitting on the grass and rubbing his neck. He looked at the stranger distrustfully. Though he didn’t seem to attack again, Vlad decided that it would not be wise to provoke him.

The stranger held his hand out, offering help.

Vlad took his hand and felt his feet stand firmly on the ground. The stranger was a boy of uncommon strength, though he clearly didn’t look like an athlete.

“Peter Ravenwood!” the boy introduced himself ceremoniously.

“Vladislav Viggin!” Vlad offered his full name too. “Why couldn’t we have started with this?”

“Because very few people know my name outside the Academy. And those who know it say it with a lot of respect,” there was undisguised arrogance in the voice and gaze of Peter Ravenwood.

“And what is Mister… Ravenwood so famous for?” Vlad asked, with a shade of irony in his voice.

Peter’s eyes flashed.

“Don’t push it,” he patted Vlad’s shoulder. “I was given the order to bring you to the Academy. But masters never specified in what condition. So please, be respectful. I am one of the best students of the Academy, and that is all you need to know for now.”

Vlad bowed his head, hiding a smile. When he raised his head again, there was a serious look on his face.

“Now what?”

“Now,” Peter said with an air of importance, “I need to explain some of our rules to you. You will live on the Academy premises until the end of your education. Of course, if you are lucky to stay alive. Don’t look at me that way! Many of those who were as good as you became crippled or lost their lives. Magic is not about fairies, magic wands, and a happy ending.”

“I already got it,” Vlad mumbled, but Peter turned a deaf ear to him.

“Each newcomer has a mentor from among the senior students,” Peter made a wry face. “Mentors look after their mentees, answer their questions and help them with their studies. But they are neither babysitters nor bodyguards. If you think that your mentor is going to watch every step you take and dance attendance on you, you might want to think twice.”

“So, are you my mentor?”

“I need you like a hole in the head!” Peter brushed the question off. “The Council of Malefisterium will appoint your mentor.”