The Secrets of Alaburg (Alaburg University 14) by Greg Walters

Author:Greg Walters [Walters, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greg Walters
Published: 2020-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

32

Mastering The Magic

It was the final day of their first week, and Bryn and Morlâ were sitting in the dining room, tired, and peering at their breakfast. They'd both forgot Elbendingen was still on kitchen duty. Bryn could see Morlâ was searching for something to say. Bryn picked up a spoon and drew his bowl nearer. It held slices of odd-looking red, yellow, and sky-blue fruits tossed into a salad with some ground nuts.

Bryn thought the food tasted quite good, even if it was a bit tart. But out of solidarity with Morlâ, he pushed it around his bowl with his spoon, taking a bite only now and then. Even so, Morlâ appeared to be in a particularly bad mood today, and Bryn thought he knew why. They had hand-to-hand fighting this morning in Combat class. Bryn knew Morlâ had excellent close-combat skills, but he couldn't defend himself against attacks of magic, let alone counter them, so the university had made him repeat this subject.

The combat arenas were located a few hundred yards behind the Starball field. They looked just like small amphitheaters. Bryn could see three of them, all oval-shaped with rows of seats for spectators that curved down to a wooden stage and was protected by a roof. Morlâ led him down the steps into the arena where their class was being held this morning. There, they realized who they would have lessons with for the rest of the semester—the orcs. They were about to train in close combat with the best warriors on the continent!

A door on the far side of the arena slid up.

"Well, Bryn, here we go! Prepare yourself for a regular bruising. And if you think it can't get worse than that," said Morlâ, pointing to the door, "you're wrong."

Bryn looked over and saw a large orc dressed in black making his way to the arena stage.

Master Ñokelä, like the orc students, had his dark hood pulled so far over his head that his face—if you could call it that with orcs—was not visible. With only a few steps, the Master had crossed the wooden fighting area and now stood in front of the first-semester students waiting in the audience seating.

As if on command, the darkly dressed orcs bowed, which made a loud rustling sound.

Bryn and Morlâ bowed too but without the reverence.

The new Master pulled the hood off his face.

Bryn stopped breathing. He did not make a sound and was thankful he didn't attract any attention. The big man was horrible to look at even by orc standards. Apart from his small horns and prominent fangs, he had a large, deep scar that ran like an enormous dark-brown growth down across his right eye and over his right cheek. The eye itself was missing, and Bryn could see the empty socket behind a fold of mutilated, sagging skin. It looked like a red-hot blade had burnt out the eye. Bryn got goosebumps. One thing was clear about Ñokelä; his combat knowledge wasn't theoretical.

Ñokelä scanned the class with his one good eye.

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