MageLife (42 page)

I stepped over the ridge I'd made, then walked to the rotted stump, in my wake the earth flowed. Each dip and bump smoothed. A tremble ran through the glade as the knotted old wood of the stump tore apart at my command. I felt strong and powerful, I wasn't used to using this much power, it hummed through me. My every movement was graceful, no overstepping or misjudgement. It was wonderful. A smile stretched my face as I stood in the early night in the middle of a glade in a circle of my own making, each breath filled me with a rising sense of invincibility. The stump dissolved, and I filled the earth into the void it left. I walked round the edge of the circle, at the east, south, west and north points I pulled forth raised pillars, and on each I commanded the structure to change. At the peak of each I made a crystal.

Now, light is hard for an earth and water mage. Not that it's the elements, but that's how we think, feel. It makes magic easier to grasp, that we can fit it into a framework that we know, somewhere deep inside from the moment we are born. Fire in the warmth of our mothers, in the light when we first open our eyes. Air in the first breath we draw, in the first touch of wind on our skin. Water in the womb that carries us, the fluid that soothes thirst. Earth in the food that we eat, in the matter that we touch, in clothes, in everything. That is our framework, it grows and changes with us, becoming something that we no longer notice, normal. But the wonder of those first moments stays with us even though the memories fade. That is what we draw on, that is the root of concepts and breaking it to reach outside of our affinities, or first and second blooming is hard, so hard that many mages can't do it. I was one of the few that could, but it wasn't easy.  Each crystal had to be charmed in a way that felt... unnatural. To make them absorb light then magnify it and send it out. It was fire based but I could twist it and use a water concept, water reflects, there are things living in the water that glow. And using crystal as my material linked it in my mind to both water and earth. Crystals have light properties, doing this on solid stone would fail. Light bloomed from each crystal, sickly but as the camp fire burned they slowly grew brighter. Light cast the shadows away, apart from my own which I had four of.

Vesic glowed on the edge of my sight. A blade in hand that I'd never seen. Tangled threads of power wove through the metal and light caught on its blade as he made his way in to the circle.

“Keep the magic flowing, you will need it. But don't externalise it, can you do that?” Vesic asked, his arm was moving in fluid motions the sword revealed in all its glory.

Metal, it looked like silver, little worms of light slithered up and down the blade. All in all it was a monster of a sword, maybe six foot long. The hilt had room for both of Vesic's massive hands, but he could swing it with one. A beautiful red gem as the pommel completed the sword, it was a work of beauty, that I was sure he hadn't it carried before. I would have seen it. Brendon didn't even carry a bag, which was strange. He had no water skin or food, he had no extra clothes.

“I can try, it's not always something I can control. If I have my links open then there is the chance of stray magics.”

“I understand, do what you can to keep it contained. We can work on your control later.” He turned his head to look at the nearest crystal. “Good work, not the best I've seen but very clever. You don't have any fire skills at all?”

“No nothing, I just never connected to fire.”

“We will have to work on that too. As a mage you aren't so limited even though you feel like it. A night or two of work should let you grasp some basic fire concepts. Anyway that isn't what we are here for now. Go get your sword.”

I went to get my sword.

I stepped back into the circle.

“Good, let’s begin.” Vesic swung his sword just as I stepped over the ridge.

My senses told me that this shard of metal was coming straight for my face. I used my enhanced grace to slip out of the path of it, my body moving in ways that that felt natural even though I’d never moved like this in my life.

Vesic’s eyes widened slightly, and he grinned. His blade became a blur of silver as if flowed from one movement to another.

I could see they were rehearsed patterns, each melding one into the other. I raised my own blade to catch his sword.

The clash of weapons rung out in echoes through the still night air.

Then Vesic did something, wiggled his wrist in a way that sent shivers through our joined blades.

My sword went flying through the air. I watched it go, taking my eyes of Vesic for a moment. Warm sharp silver pressed against my throat.

“What was your mistake?”

“I don't know. I know nothing about fighting.”

“You took your eyes off me for one thing. And you held your sword wrong. Too tight a grip, too rigid. You must hold it gently, treat it with respect. It is your ally in this battle, not your tool. Go fetch it.” The metal was withdrawn.

I stepped away from the fire god, towards the centre of the circle where the blade lay. It had landed half stabbed into the earth. I wrapped my hand around the hilt, the smooth stone cool against my fever-hot skin. A tremor ran through my hand on contact, almost like the beat of a heart. I pulled the blade free and looked really looked at the connections, the threads between it and I. Deep but faintly there were tangles and concepts, weak things that barely even registered in my sight. I had no idea what they did or how they got there. I looked over to Vesic and raised an eyebrow.

He ignored my unspoken question and raised his blade.

I focused on my hand as it touched the hilt, the smooth stone fit my hand perfectly. I didn't tense, I cradled the blade. Each finger settled in place making the weapon feel like an extension of my arm. I stepped up and swung.

“This is not chopping wood. This is fighting,” Vesic shouted as the blades struck. He pulled away and swung.

I caught it on the crosspiece. I gritted my teeth as the power behind the blow travelled up my arms.

“This is not a struggle of strength, it's a battle of wits and will.” he disengaged and circled me.

I turned to keep my eyes on him.

“Watch the earth and the air. Watch your opponent’s body and eyes. Each movement they make will signal their intentions. This isn't just for sword play this is for everything. Every battle is a battle of wits, of the mind. Might plays no part unless you are a fool. Finesse is the key. A lesson I learnt the hard way, take this lesson to heart.” He launched a flurry of strikes that hit me in a blaze of motion.

I pulled more magic into me, my muscles flowed under the onslaught, each blow, deflected, but not without cost. A stinging cut across my knuckles. A slice along my bicep, another at my hip. None were deep or really that painful.

“You aren't paying attention, your sight will help but you need to feel the rhythm. Listen to the beat of our conflict. What motivates it? What drives it?” each sentence was punctuated by another strike.

I did what I could but even enhanced grace could only cover so much inexperience. Each blow knocked my blade further out of centre, making the next strike hit harder.

Vesic’s leg slid round to take me from my feet.

I landed in a sprawl on the ground. A blade pointing at my heart.

“Well done.” Vesic said then offered me a hand up.

I took it and asked, “How was that well done? I lost.”

“Tristan, this isn't about winning or losing. You can't win against me yet. This is about opening your eyes and teaching you. You tried. You did all I asked and never complained. You took your hits, you didn't let pain freeze you into indecision. You fought on, without getting distracted. That is all I can ask for. Brendon even told me of today's efforts, you took up the challenge and while you did attempt to use magic, you was corrected and you carried on. That is the sort of determination you need for this.” All this was said in a tone I had never heard from Vesic, there was none of his condescension, or disdain. No anger. There was pride and encouragement.

“Thank you.” I didn't know what else to say.

“Wash and turn in for the night. We have further to travel in the morning.”

I nodded and made my way from the circle of lights into the camp. The fire glowed merrily, the threads tied in such a way that it fed on itself. Clever and efficient. I leant my sword against the mound and pulled my clothes off. The make shift pump beckoned.

A touch of my hand made water flow. Enough for my purposes. I used my power to pull the water over my body, streamers washing the dirt and sweat away. Once I was done the last of the water drawn away from me, I was dry. I then soaked my clothes and laid them on the mound of hardened earth by the fire, they should dry by morning.

Done I took my sleeping blanket out of my bag and curled up within it.

I took a deep breath and let the magic drain from my body. Exhaustion flooded through me. I was asleep in moments.

Chapter 35

Snippets of dreams haunted me, more nightmares than dreams. I was back on the night of the fire surge, ribbons of power twisting through the air. The magic screaming at me to help, to fix it, to heal it. The white stone of Westhaven shone sickly in my sight as I ran to the poor surge's side.

His pain washed through me, the sickness of his power like the breath of death, of corruption in the air. I could feel myself crying, the tears burning, living this moment again. His final moment. I tried to do anything else. I pulled power to close his link, but it was too far gone. Like fixing the broken door of your house when the roof was gone, futile measures that did nothing. I saw his mouth open in a scream, the scent of ashes and burning flesh filled my nostrils. His voice was lost to the roaring of the flames. His last words gone.

(Beat)

A shimmering of the magic pulsed and his final moments replayed. His screams which I’d not been able to hear over the fire roaring out of him before, came through with crystal clarity. The tears I'd shed dried on my face, the heat from his fire scorching as I sealed him in stone. A coffin.

Then I was at the foundry, sinking the district. I was alone this time. The unfound dead buried under stone at my command, sunk below the ground and sealed. Their voices carried in the wind. Each a different accusation.

“You didn't save us.”

“Our deaths are on your hands.”

“Sealed in stone, locked from our rest.”

I fell to my knees, tears ran unabashed down my face. I looked at the smooth whiteness of my home, it didn't look white now, grey with streaks of darkness flowing through, shadows of the deeds done here.

“Be gone, and trouble him no more. He did his best, that is more than any other has done for you.” A voice came from all around me. Loud and booming it echoed across the smooth expanse of space.

“Wake up Tristan, you don't need to be here. You did what you could.”

(Beat)

The magic pulsed again, and I fell it a dreamless yet fitful sleep.

(-----)

Dawn greeted me awake, just laying wrapped in my blanket not moving. I hurt too much to risk moving and I was too scared to sleep more. That nightmare may have ended, but it brought it all back. The pain. The guilt.  The fear.

The early light just touched the crystals, they shone like miniature suns each feeding off the other. I raised my arm, it hurt oddly, to shield my eyes from the glare. Inside the ring was Vesic standing in the centre, his cloak of embers refracted the light like drops of water each producing a tiny rainbow. It was beautiful and terrifying. This was the god in all his might, a master of fire and light. This is what the mages of old could do. Blazing like stars in the masses of dim sleepers. This is what I could do if I let my power run unchecked. Not fire and light, but earth and stone. In my mind I could see myself standing tall, each step I took shaking the ground, a floating nimbus of gems whirling round my head like a crown. My enemies fell to me as I stepped forwards, some to a single gem through their body, others to spikes of stone rising from the ground. Blood covered the soil, each drop a life ended. The hungry earth drank it all. I could feel it: every death being absorbed, nourishing the earth. In my vision I laughed, a rising sense of invincibility as I watched men die for standing in my way. I could see a city in the distance, high walled and thick gated. The gates were closed, but I walked forwards, at my back the dead rose armoured in stone. Each a puppet to my will. Their amour, my creation. My gift, to let the dead walk again. I could hear something whispering in my ear, not words but feelings, a sense of conquest. I could crush this city to dust. Wipe the petty little insects scurrying through the flesh of the earth that they had cut loose, disconnecting it from its source. Glimmers of magic flowed through the walls but with this much power running through me I could crush it just the same. I stretched out my hand and my will and commanded the walls to fall.

And like water melting from ice they did, a sheet of falling stone flowing to the base.

Even from here I could hear the screams of the dims, sleepers too weak to grasp the power they were born to command. A few reached for it but the magic plane was unstable, slanted towards me. Vague half formed charms and expressions lashed out feebly. I barely even noticed

I threw my own expressions. Buildings crumbled and shattered. Towers fell and underneath it all was this feeling of power and exhilaration.

My army of dead ran through the gap where the wall had been. No sounds from them but their targets shrieked, I’d left the helms of their helmets open to strike terror into the hearts of all who opposed me.

“Get up mage,” came a voice, and I felt a kick in the side.

I blinked.

Back in the clearing still wrapped in my blanket, I saw Brendon stood over me looking down.

“We have far to go today. We can't do that with you laying there fantasising about some woman.” he looked pointedly at me. His gaze flickering to my groin.

Id tented my blanket.