Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

“We have to get closer to that thing,” the
commander hissed to Wellter while tucking his pendant under his breastplate.
“We’re too far away to do any permanent damage. We need to set up a shield to
protect Jothnial until we
reach him.”

The two magicians leaped onto their
dragons and headed in the direction of Jothnial and Ebenezer. Together, they
quickly produced a makeshift shield just in time to catch a blast of fire from
the pursuing dragon.
The fireball
bounced
harmlessly off of
their shield
and flew
back at the dragon that had spewed it
. It slapped
against the enemy shield and was deflected downward to the ground below.

“Did you see
that,
Commander
?” Wellter called. “That shield protects against both magic and
physical threats.”

“And the magician's sitting beneath it on
that dragon's back,” the commander called. “You sustain our shield, and I will
take care of this man.”

Without waiting for an answer, the
commander directed his dragon to maneuver to a position directly above the
enemy dragon. He crouched on his saddle and looked down into the eyes of the
magician. Without another thought, he leaped from his saddle and, as he plunged
toward his adversary, drew a silver knife from his belt and held it blade first
below his body. As the silver passed through the shield, the magic barrier
disappeared with a small explosion and a mass of fireworks. The commander hit
the dragon hard, knocking the breath out of his lungs and jarring the knife
from his grip. He recovered quickly, but even as he looked up, his opponent
slashed at him with a knife. The commander jerked away from the wild move, but
the blade slashed across his cheek, leaving a streak of blood. He clawed his
way into a more maneuverable position and crouched to face the next attack. The
magician again slashed with the knife, but the commander shot out a hand and
grabbed the hilt of the weapon. With a sharp wrench, he twisted the magician’s
hand around and slammed the weapon into his stomach. He let go of the magician
and watched him slip off the dragon
then turned
to face the head of the dragon. He composed a small spell, cast it at the
dragon’s head, and leaped from the back of the beast. As he reached the apex of
his jump, he felt the claw of his dragon settle around his body, and he knew
that he was safe. Below him, the enemy dragon plummeted toward the ground and
landed with a large splash in the marsh below. The commander looked over at
Jothnial and extended a tendril of magic toward him. His vital signs were
strong, so the commander settled back for the journey to headquarters.

Senndra used the shock from the blow to
spin in a tight circle on her heels. As she finished the move, she ducked under
the inevitable slash aimed at her upper torso. Jumping into a standing
position, she parried a blow aimed at her legs and returned a slash at her
opponent’s head. Her attacker struck her blade near the hilt, partially jarring
it from her grasp. She managed to hold onto the weapon, and her opponent lost
no time in pressing his advantage. He swung at Senndra’s head, and she wasn’t
able to get her sword up in time. Instead, she dove under the blade and rolled
past him. She rolled onto her knees and spun around, swinging her sword at her
opponent’s knees. He easily jumped over the poorly-aimed swipe and brought his
sword down at Senndra’s head. Senndra used her sword to deflect the blow then
brought the hilt around and slammed it into her aggressor’s stomach. He avoided
most of the force of the blow by leaning backwards; however, his breath was
still knocked out of him. Senndra jumped to her feet and aimed a quick slash at
him. Despite the fact that her opponent was on his back and that he hadn’t even
gotten his breath back, he was still able to block the blow and return one. The
counter attack caught Senndra off guard, and she barely stopped the blow from
smashing into her stomach. Her attacker’s blade bounced down her sword, hopped
over the hilt, and slashed across her hand. Senndra could tell that the injury
was only a flesh wound, but the pain
was still
enough to cloud her reaction. She looked down just in time to see her opponent
hook his sword into her pant leg and jerk. The motion threw Senndra off
balance. As she toppled, she lost her sword, and the next thing she knew, she
was on her face and could feel the cold steel of a sword on her neck.

“Do you yield?” he asked.

Senndra rolled her eyes. “As if I had a
choice. You beat me again.”

She rose slowly to her feet and finally
raised her eyes to meet those of her opponent, Lemin, her sword fighting instructor.
He had elf blood though how much no one knew for certain and it could hardly be
discerned from his looks. He was about six feet tall, with short, cropped black
hair and the beginning of a beard and mustache. Senndra knew that it would be
gone before it got even a quarter of an inch long. As if its sole purpose was
to mar his otherwise good looks, a scar of five or six inches, normally white
but now red after the exertion of a sword fight, stood out on his left cheek. 
He held Senndra's sword out to her, and she took it and slid it into its
scabbard.

“You’re dismissed to have that cut taken
care of,” Lemin told Senndra. “It doesn’t appear to be more than a flesh wound,
so don’t expect to get out of class tomorrow,” he added with a twinkle in his
eye. “I want you here bright and early so that I can beat you again.”

“Not tomorrow, I’m afraid, sir,” Senndra
answered as she wrapped her hand in a cloth that Lemin handed to her.

“What do you mean?” Lemin asked as he
glanced at Senndra quizzically. “Do you have something more important to do?”

“No, sir,” Senndra answered. “Tomorrow I’m
going to beat you.” She waved to the rest of the class and turned to leave.

“Whatever you say,” Lemin called after her
as she started down the trail that led to the medical station. “Just be here
tomorrow, and we’ll see who beats who. And remember that the swordplay
competition is tonight,” he added.

Senndra grinned to herself as she broke
into a jog. She really did like Lemin, though he seemed to take delight in
beating his students every time he fought them in the ring. And he always did
beat them, usually in under a minute. As usual, Senndra had held her own for
more than three minutes, but had finally been bested by her instructor. Also as
usual, she had been wounded in the fight and was dismissed early to take care
of the wound.

The hospital came into sight, and Senndra
slowed to a walk. The trails were deserted at this time since the academy
students were in their classes and all of the instructors were teaching. As a
result, there were no distractions, and Senndra loved the quiet. She could just
sit for hours on end and observe nature, the plants and the
animals interacting with
each other. As she walked
toward the hospital, her gaze strayed to the forest, down the mountain from
where she was. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she could make out the
shape of a deer on the outer edge of the trees. Suddenly, a red blur burst from
the clouds above the forest and dove toward the deer. The deer broke into a
sprint for the trees, but
before it had gained
safety, the dragon that was hunting the deer grabbed it in its claws
and
flew away.

Senndra let out a breath she didn’t know
she had been holding and continued to stare at the place where the dragon had
disappeared. Just the sight of the creatures made her heart beat faster.
Everything she knew about dragons pointed to their intelligence and grace. Even
the way the dragon had killed the deer had been graceful.

Senndra shook herself from her thoughts
and walked the rest of the distance to the hospital. She pushed open the door
with her good hand and walked through the empty waiting room to the table that
served as the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist looked up from a book at
the sound of the door opening and saw Senndra.

“How are you today, Senndra?” she asked as
she used her finger to mark the book that she had been reading.

“Pretty good, Michal,” Senndra answered.
“Just got nicked sword fighting, and Lemin sent me down here.”

“No one else is here, so you can go in,”
Michal said as
she reopened
her book.

Senndra walked past Michal and down the
hall to the back of the building. Here, one of the only doors in the building
separated the doctor's personal study from the rest of the office. The study
was rather large and lighted by three large
windows.
It was
basically empty, containing only
a
bookcase and
a desk. Behind the desk was a small, balding man.

“Hello, Senndra,” the man said as he set
aside
some papers
. “What are you in for
today?”

“Hello, Doctor Samuel,” Senndra responded.
“It's just a small cut from sword fighting.”

“Don’t miss a day, do you?” Samuel said as
he rose from his desk
. He led
Senndra out of
his
office, down the hall, and into an operating room
.

“I was thinking about preparing the
equipment before you got here, but decided against it,” Samuel said as he
gathered supplies from several cabinets. “Now I’m beginning to wish I had done
so.”

“Like you said, I never miss a day,”
Senndra responded. She removed the cloth from her hand at Samuel’s prompting
and held it out for him to examine.

“Nothing more than a flesh wound,” he said
after examining the cut. “It shouldn’t slow you down at all.”

“Good,” Senndra said. She watched as
Samuel first cleaned out the cut then wrapped a bandage around her hand and
fastened it.

“Thanks, Doctor Samuel,” Senndra said when
he finished. She left him in the room to put things away and walked back
outside. The peace and quiet she had left only fifteen minutes ago had been
replaced with the chatter of students as they left their classes. They followed
the
main path down the mountain toward the dorms, and
Senndra joined them. She didn’t see anyone she knew and continued in silence.
She passed the mess hall and was just in view of her
dorm when an
unwelcome voice sounded behind her.

“Hey Senndra, wait up.”

“What do you want, Vladimir?” asked
Senndra, turning around to face him.

“Nothing,” he said as he pulled up in
front of Senndra. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Well, in that case, hi,” Senndra said,
her voice tight.

“So, what are you planning on doing this
afternoon?” Vladimir asked. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.”

“I don’t think so, Vladimir,” Senndra
responded curtly. “Not right now.”

“Then how about later?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Senndra answered. She
spun on her heels and marched away from him to her dorm. She didn’t look back
until she reached the safety of her room. She opened the door and stepped
inside and was met at once by the smiling face of her roommate, Rita. She was a
pretty girl, with blond hair that hung down to her waist and blue eyes that
seemed to attract every male cadet on the campus.

“What happened today?” she asked as she
examined Senndra’s bandage.

“Just a scratch from sword fighting,”
Senndra answered. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You couldn't have at least waited until
the last one healed?” Rita asked. “So, what has you so perturbed?”

“Who else…Vladimir,” Senndra responded,
disgust in her voice. She unstrapped her sword from her hip and threw it onto
the top bunk. “One would think he could take a hint, but every time I turn
around, I’m tripping over him.”

“Vladimir isn’t nearly as bad as you make
him out to be,” Rita said. She sat on the lower bunk, but kept her gaze on
Senndra. “I think he’s lonely and is just trying to make a friend. I mean, you remember
what that’s like, right? It was only what, two years ago that you ended up
here?”

“Yeah, the same year that Daddy died,”
Senndra sighed. “I was only fourteen then, and it was really scary coming here.
I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but thank you for being my friend.”

“All I’m saying is that you could try
being a little nicer to him,” Rita said. She climbed out of the bed. “Anyway,
lunch is in ten minutes, so we need to head up to the mess hall.”

Senndra rose and followed Rita out of the
room.

******

Josiah grasped the javelin in his left
hand and held it in front of him with the tip pointing at the ground. He eyed
the target carefully and gauged its distance. This was the farthest one yet,
with a distance of possibly fifty yards. That, combined with the fact that the
target wasn’t much bigger than a human torso, made this a very hard throw. The
sun beat down on Josiah, causing sweat to drip down into his eyes and blur his
vision. With a swipe of his hand, he wiped the sweat off his face and gauged
the distance to the target again. At the signal from his instructor, Josiah
pulled the javelin back and prepared to throw it. He kept his eyes on the small
black circle that represented the center of the target, and when the call was
given, he heaved his
javelin. The spear shot through
the air with only a shallow arc, and Josiah held his breath as it covered the
fifty yards
. It hit the bottom right corner of the
target with a splintering of wood.

“Not too bad,”
Josiah told himself. He glanced at the other cadets'
targets and saw that half of the javelins hadn’t even reached them. Of the ones
that had flown far enough, all but two had hit their targets, mostly on the
outer edges. The call to retrieve the javelins was given, and the cadets
advanced down the range, chattering as they went.

“Nice shot,
Josiah,”
called the cadet who was two stations to Josiah’s left.

“Thanks, Cirro,” Josiah responded, “but it
really wasn’t all that good. It barely hit the target at all.”

“At least it made it far enough,” Cirro
said. “Mine was way too short, probably by fifteen feet.”

Josiah shrugged and walked the rest of the
way to his target. The javelin was more than four inches from the nearest edge
and had hit with enough force to
sink in
at
least six inches. Josiah braced his foot on the target, grabbed the shaft of
his spear, and pulled the weapon from where it had lodged. Shifting his grip to
the middle of the javelin, he rested it on his shoulder
.
He quickly walked
back to the line that he had thrown from and spun around,
ready to throw again.

“That’s it for today,” the instructor
called to his students. All the cadets shifted their spears onto their
shoulders and began to make their way to the northwest corner of the range.
There a small door cut a hole through the hedge that ran all the way around the
practice field. The cadets left in a single file line and made their way to the
northeast corner of the hedge where the armory was located. Josiah waited
patiently as the line crawled along at a snail’s pace. When he finally reached
the armory, he entered the building, put his spear on the rack, and went back
outside to wait for Cirro.

Half a minute later, Cirro came out of the
armory, and he and Josiah began to cross the city that was their campus. The
fifteen minute walk back to the barracks took them past massive buildings with
extraordinary architecture. Huge
flights of stairs
and
pillars guarded the doors of the buildings, and large statues graced
the lawns. At the north end of the campus, a wall stretched across a pass in a
mountain range. The only break in the wall was a massive gate that opened onto
a vast plain. The gate was currently shut against attacks from the soldiers of
Molkekk.

Josiah
shuddered
even as he
thought of the name
. Molkekk
was the ancient enemy of the men of Magessa. He had opposed Magessa because
they worshiped Elohim, the creator and ruler of the world and all that was in
it. Legends portrayed Molkekk as any of the original six races that inhabited
Magessa and the surrounding lands. But on one thing they all agreed
—
Molkekk
had allied himself with Oglemophin, a fallen angel that had once had the duty
of
leading the
worship of Elohim. Oglemophin
had become jealous of Elohim and sought to take away his throne. A bitter fight
had followed
. One-third of
the angels followed
Oglemophin, but they were defeated by those that remained faithful. In the end,
they were thrown out of heaven.