Aldwyn's Academy by Nathan Meyer Read Free Book Online Page B

one.
    Sighing heavily, Dorian walked into Lowadar’s office.
    “Close the door,” the headmaster ordered.
    The wizard didn’t sound angry, Dorian realized, but neither had Fife, and frankly, her words had chilled him to his core.
    He sat in the chair positioned to the front of the great desk, studiously avoiding looking at the headmaster. The archmage’s familiar was lying comfortably in an open kennel. The miniature dragon ignored him, sleepily lounging between two hot braziers.
    “I hope this isn’t a harbinger of your stay here. That would be … most distressing,” Lowadar finished.
    “No, sir.”
    Lowadar rose from behind his desk.
    “Danger is a funny thing, Dorian. The stress of it plays on different people in different ways.” Lowadar paused and turned sideways, regarding the boy out of the corner of his eye from beneath one shaggy eyebrow. “I imagine it was quite frightening facing those dire wolves, seeing your mother in danger.”
    Dorian swallowed.
    He couldn’t answer. His throat was too thick.
    He remembered the barking and snapping of the animals, the stink of their matted fur, and the curve of their long fangs.
    Frightened? He had been terrified.
    “Yes, sir,” he managed to get out.
    Lowadar turned quickly, as fast as any dire wolf, and when he locked eyes with Dorian, he pinned him in the seat as surely as if he had cast a spell on the boy.
    His entire manner had changed.
    “That’s
right
you were afraid. And that’s the only reason I’m not sending you home, Dorian, famous mother or not. You end up with contraband within minutes of arriving at this facility and then proceed to throw it at my professor?
    “I can only blame such reckless stupidity on the stress of your encounter this morning.” Lowadar’s voice was quiet, but at the same time it was like beating drums or the crack of a whip. It was a voice used to enunciating power.
    “It is no secret,” Lowadar said, voice grave, “that I questioned your ability to be here. My students generally desire to be at Aldwyns, boy. The magic burns so fiercely within them it is like a fire. But you’ve fought your gift every step of the way and that makes me highly doubt that a place as strenuous and demanding as the academy is the place for you.”
    The memory of his mother arguing with the headmaster for him to stay at Aldwyns was vivid in Dorian’s mind. Lowadar didn’t believe him good enough to be here, and so far Dorian had done nothing but prove him right.
    His cheeks burned at the realization. It was one thing not to want to do something, it was quite another to have so many people think you incapable of doing it in the first place.
    Dorian hung his head. “It’s not my fault.” He fought tears of frustration back, but only almost. “I did it because Helene drives me
crazy
!”
    Lowadar nodded.
    “Of course she does,” the wizard said quietly and sat down again. “Helene is a singular individual in many, many ways. And the image she presents to the world is not the only facet of her diamond.
    “But soon you will be learning spells of such staggering potency that other people will fear you.” Lowadar regarded the boy, but now his gaze was less aggressive. “Don’t you think you should learn how not to let a fellow student drive you crazy before you learn how to cast a ball of fire?”
    “I’m going to be a
wizard,”
Dorian said spontaneously. “Like my mother.…”
    He felt stunned by the obvious realization. He wouldn’t be here now if that weren’t true. One didn’t enter Aldwyns by accident.
    But, somehow, it felt like the first time he’d understood what such a thing could mean.
    “Yes,” Lowadar said, voice grave. “You are going to be a wizard. Now, don’t you think you should start acting like one?”
    The headmaster looked at his familiar, and the dragon cooed back at him. To the boy it seemed like an affirmation, and with sudden intuition Dorian realized how close the bond between wizard and