Eldsprak Academy: A Shattered Realm Novella: The Shattered Realm, #0

By Oskar Soderberg

What happens when you gather a secretive geomancer, a clandestine aeromancer, a compassionate hydromancer, and toss them into a training ground alongside a humble ranger and a pack of noble scions from Eldsprak Kingdom?

 

Meet this motley crew, each with their own compelling reasons to triumph in The Academy Tournament. Their fate rests on the shoulders of Goslin, the one tasked with forging them into a formidable team. To stand a fighting chance at victory, they must adapt, evolve, and unite. Can they synchronize their efforts, or will their eagerness to prove themselves lead to their undoing?

 

The Tournament poses a formidable challenge, especially with Goslin's own brother, last year's champion, and his formidable pyromancer ally, who can conjure searing flames from a mere wave of his hand, among their adversaries.

 

In a world where the oppressive gods of old have been vanquished by legendary heroes, the stage is set for a gripping showdown. Swords clash, and bursts of magic light up the streets of Fyrie, Eldsprak's bustling capital, as The Tournament commences. It's a time when the past is forgotten, and the future is uncertain, and the only thing that matters is survival amidst the chaos of competition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oskar Soderberg
• Release date: Nov 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9789198826104

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The stink of sour sweat permeated the courtyard after hours of running drills in the sun. Each breath snatched between swings felt like it would be his last. Goslin grunted and thought of tossing his shield aside. No, he’d kept it for this long, for all these unrelenting months. His arm could take another few days. Graduation from the academy loomed ever closer. Hopeful recruits gathered in the capital of Eldsprak, Fyrie, to apply for one of the few spots each year. A school for those commoners wanting to become soldiers, guards, or even officers. If you showed yourself able, skillful, and willing, all that could be within reach. Goslin was not a commoner, and many of those in the courtyard weren’t either. Noble sons and daughters used the place for a training ground, or a place to get away from family and duties. The commoners and nobles were separated into camps, despite everyone supposedly being equal in the academy. To them, Goslin was just another arrogant noble. A full year had soon passed, and he hadn’t been able to convince them otherwise. But at least they wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing him bend. But, by the heroes, it was heavy.

Dust rose from a hundred pairs of shifting feet, and a constant stream of hacking coughs followed. It got in through the slits in their helm visors, mixing with the sweat to create an itching layer of grime. Despite the oppressiveness of the midday heat and thick clouds of dust, each recruit swung their blunted weapons under the weight of a full plate of practice armor, each part made out of thick metal scratched from years worth of use and abuse. The breast plate alone weighed enough to tire anyone, and they were all covered in metal from head to toes. Cleaning them was not something you did at the academy, which meant that each set of protective gear was worn again and again by different people each year. Chafing and a foul odor were some things you were supposed to get used to, but Goslin still had a hard time with it, and that wasn’t likely to change with only one day of wearing the things remaining.

They swung one synchronized swing each time the drill sergeant shouted the unintelligible word he always used. No one dared ask what it was, as it would, without a doubt, lead to more drills. Perhaps even cleaning duties. No, not for him. Not for Goslin and the other noble sons, but for the commoners? All but a surety. The difference gnawed at him. They were all supposed to be equals at the academy.

A trickle of murky sweat ran down his forehead, and Goslin instinctively reached up as if to wipe at his eyes. The movement caused him to lose his balance, his left knee buckling under the strain, but he managed not to stumble. Someone snickered off to the side. Impossible to make out who it was in the din.

A shout came from the other side of the courtyard, where the commoners trained amongst themselves. Don’t break now, Princeling!

Don’t mind them, said the young man drilling right next to Goslin. Kax. Goslin’s childhood friend kept his visor open, even if it was against regulation, and you could plainly see his brown hair plastered against his face.

Goslin blinked, readying for another swing. Don’t worry about me. What is that strange weapon? Kax wielded a polearm with a blade that widened at the top instead of coming to a point like a spear. It was unlike any weapon Goslin had ever seen. Do you have smiths of your own to keep up with all the blunting you must need, switching arms every day? His friend stood small in stature with his usual mischievous grin. With Goslin being above average in height, the shorter man appeared even more so in comparison. In most ways, they were each other’s opposites in appearance. Goslin’s hair was long and blond, his eyes blue to Kax’s hazel, and his face often described as somber, when Kax’s always shone with laughter.

It’s called a monk’s spade! Kax replied, grunting as he exerted himself in stopping the unwieldy weapon from striking the ground with his next swing. This one might have been a mistake. I’ll definitely use something lighter tomorrow.

Goslin didn’t have time to reply before the stop call sounded. Done for the day. Finally. The stickiness of the grime and sweat were getting harder to ignore. A bath awaited, and he longed to sink down into the scalding water.

The drill sergeant’s loud voice broke the sudden stillness, Break! Sit down for a moment. Then you are going to pair up and duel until your arms fall off! Plenty of groans and disgruntled sighs rose from Goslin’s right, where most of the nobles stood in a disorderly row.

Serving men and women hurried into the courtyard, carrying chairs, skins of water and wine for Goslin’s peers. He accepted a cup from one of the serving women, removed his helm, and took a seat on one of the stools. Members of the lower ranks had to make do with the sand-covered ground and a trough to drink out of, like animals. Goslin proffered his cup of water to a lanky young man with streaks of dirt and sweat running down his face. All he received in reply was a sneer and an upturned nose. Such a strange place this was.

At the academy, all recruits were supposed to be equals. You joined to find prestige. Many commoners wanted to enlist, but only a few were selected each year. In their eyes, Goslin and his ilk were to blame for taking the coveted spots from those who needed them more. They were right. Almost half the group were third or fourth sons of lesser nobility. Those who had nothing better to do with their time.

Not the reason Goslin had joined, not in the least. This was his chance to be his own man, and he would not squander it. A slim chance, but he would succeed in his goal. That would wipe the knowing smirk off his father’s face. Still, Goslin felt the pang of guilt for taking a spot from someone who needed it more.

Time’s up! Stop slacking off! Already? Goslin blinked. The mug of water in his hand was empty. His fellow recruits stood around watching him, clearly annoyed at having to wait. He covered his face with his helm so no one would see his embarrassment. He really had to watch his daydreaming.

Kax’s face appeared before him. Come on now, recruit. No slacking off!

Goslin got to his feet, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. I’m exhausted.

That’s alright, Kax said, I’ll go easy on you.

Form up! the drill sergeant yelled, and after a moment of confusion, each recruit faced another. Only two women enlisted this year. Both of noble birth. One didn’t practice with weapons. Emeryn used earth magic. During introductions, she proclaimed how she would prove its usefulness in combat. Could it be used as a weapon? The primary application of earth magic was to build and grow things, after all.

The other noblewoman hid among the commoners, dirtied like them and with the same sort of petulant scowl. Lana, a short and slender young woman with a button of a nose who pretended to be a man with her hair clipped short and her clothes taken from the men’s wardrobe. The sword she held had proven much too big for her, and she stumbled and fell again and again as they practiced. Even now, almost a full year after joining. Stubborn woman. Goslin wasn’t sure if anyone else actually knew of her elevated birth in the Kingdom of Loft. Why she hid her origins, Goslin didn’t know.