The armory room was a vast display of weapons and armor. Some hung on the wall, while others were laid out on elaborate shelves. Lane stood in awe, gazing up at a mace dangling from the ceiling.

  “The stakes will be higher,” Paxton said as they entered a room filled with armor and weapons. “Tomorrow, your weapons will be more dangerous, and you will need to learn to channel their energy.”

  Lane reached out and touched some chain mail and felt a wave of pain course through her arm.

  “Do not touch,” Paxton chided her directly. “These are spelled and will cause damage to your opponent, and yourself if not handled correctly.”

  Lane wrapped her arms around herself and took in the spears and the deadly spikes of the mace.

  “Your swords tomorrow will have different capabilities, depending upon the one you choose. Some will have no abilities. Your discernment is part of the challenge and your sensitivity to the voidcraft.”

  Lane frowned. She doubted she had any sensitivities, and she gazed past Paxton to the other initiates. They were watching in rapt silence.

  “I am giving you an extra edge over your defeated comrades.”

  Murmurs broke out among the initiates, and Paxton silenced them with a wave of his hand. “You will have time to choose your weapon and seek out the one that suits you best. But choose the wrong one, and the consequences could be deadly.”

  Hands clammy, Lane stood still, not daring to touch another thing in this room.

  Lane thought of Sal, and the great disadvantage he’d have come sun up.

  “When I return,” Mage Paxton continued, “you must have chosen your weapon, or one will be chosen for you.”

  It would be a great disadvantage, Lane knew, and drew in a deep, calming breath.

  She gazed at the chain mail that had hurt her and backed away. The other initiates were over by the weapons, gazing up at them and hesitating.

  “I overheard one of the Mages,” Stara said in a low voice. “They said one of us will die tomorrow.”

  A silence hung over the room, and no one moved. “You’re sure you heard right, Stara?” Parric asked.

  She nodded and swallowed. “We just need to make sure it isn’t one of us.” Her hand went down to her waist pocket, and Lane wondered what she had.

  “For now,” Elian said, “we need to choose. Can either of you sense anything with these weapons?”

  They spoke to each other while Lane moved away down an aisle of dusty shelves. She didn’t trust any of them. Not at all. She passed a group of chests and glanced back to see if anyone was watching.

  Carefully, she released the latch and opened the lid with a creak. She let out a gasp when she saw the silver plated swords inside. They were smaller than she was used to sparring with her brother.

  The plate had a faint etching on it, and she moved closer, her hand hovering. She could feel the faint energy surging upward towards her hand. There was power in this weapon.

  Would it hurt like the chain mail? Carefully, she reached down with one finger and touched the tip. A surge of energy poured through her arm, but it didn’t hurt. She welcomed it.

  A blood curdling scream filled the room. Lane jumped. It was Stara’s voice. Lane left the chest and hurried over. Stara was curled up in a ball with a sword lying beside her, glowing hot red. Elian and Parric tended to her and spoke in low tones.

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  “It was supposed to protect me. What happened?” Stara cried.

  What was supposed to protect her? Lane wondered, and Parric raised his eyes to hers. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’ll be alright.”

  Lane nodded and turned the corner just out of sight. What was the secret they shared?

  “The mages didn’t leave us a clue?” Elian asked. “There has to be something. They don’t want us hurt.”

  “Here,” Parric called, “I see something. A mark of Argor, do you think that could be it?”

  Lane turned away and went back to the chest. The sword was calling to her, as if she could sense some faint trace of power beckoning her back. The chest was still open, and she knelt beside it. This time, she touched her fingers to the hilt. The surge of power was gone, but she felt something awakening inside her. A power she had never felt before.

  Carefully, she lifted it and inspected the hilt. The writing was faint, but as she touched her finger over the engraving, it glowed a pale silver. Virtas A word from her childhood. The shadowtongue. Excitement surged through her. Could this have been taken from the Devold, her own people?

  She’d found her weapon and couldn’t wait to wield it in battle. There were others who deserved to find the sharp edge. She glanced back at the others. There were other important things she needed to do before the morning.

  ***

  Mage Paxton led them to luxurious rooms on the upper level. The rooms overlooked the tranquil garden and pools in the back of the Keep. Lane watched the water flow over a small rock fall and saw the faint trace of orange fish swimming at the bottom. There was a splash, and occasional concentric circles flowed outward, sparkling in the setting sun.

  When the sun disappeared, Lane got to work. They each had their weapons for tomorrow, and let her keep the sword, Virtas. She fashioned a scabbard onto her belt and sheathed it.

  Listening at the door, she could hear nothing in the hall. She tried the door handle and raised a brow when she realized it was locked. The mages didn’t want their initiates wandering. A lock can be picked. She grabbed the gold knife she’d swiped from the dinner table and began her work. A pulse of static hit her fingers through the knife when the lock clicked free. It was spelled. But by the feel of it, not a strong one.

  Carefully, she opened the door as it creaked in the silence. She stopped, listening. There was no movement. She reached a hand through the door, checking, and felt the pulse of energy. Closing her eyes, she jumped through the entryway.

  The burning sensation was immediate, as if every fiber of her body was on fire. She bit her lip and curled up on the floor, grabbing her knees, and breathing through it. It had to pass, it just had to. She watched her arms, and they were not on fire. It’s all in your mind, she told herself. It is not real. She repeated that until the burning came down to a tolerable level.

  Lane uncurled from the floor and stood while waves of energy washed through her and away. She glanced at the door, and closed it, risking the hinge creaking.

  No one came. No sounds of movement from the other initiates.

  She followed the hall to the grand staircase, leading to the main level. The Keep was silent and dark, and she had to rely on memory and the faint light from outside. The large statues of warriors in their full armor creeped her out, and the back of her neck prickled.

  There was magic here she didn’t understand, and she’d need to be cautious.

  Where were they keeping Sal? She remembered the last night, and the horrors she’d witnessed him going through. There was something fragile about him, like he could crack at any moment, and fall apart.

  She paused and listened. Follow the feelings, the sensations, they will come up in silence, Aleda had told her.

  Thinking of Aleda brought her warmth inside. She focused and felt a sliver of familiar energy. It’s my imagination, she thought with a grimace. Or should she trust it?

  Without focusing, she lost the thread. Footfalls behind her made her scurry behind an armored statue. The armor was ice cold against her side as she held her breath and waited in the shadows.

  Two robed men walked by, speaking softly in the grand hall. “The meeting is in an hour. It’s mandatory. Lord Kaldon himself will be here.”

  There was a silence between them. “Why is Master Kaldon coming here?”

  “There is something going on with the Order. We haven’t been privy to it. Perhaps tonight?” the mage said.

  Other words were whispered but Lane couldn’t make them out. When they had passed, she pried herself out from behind the armor and continued her search.

  She recognized the same rooms they were held in that first night. She paused before each door, centering herself. There was nothing. Any hope soon died. They could be holding Sal anywhere.

  Standing before the last door, she again listened, and this time she felt the familiar pull of energy. Her heart leapt. This had to be it. She paused and gazed down the hall. Nothing. She slipped out her knife and went to work on the lock.