Shaping Magic (2 page)

“You don't suppose this is the reason your bolt missed, do you?”

Grams went over to where Arden was kneeling.

“A Colguard stone. These were rare even at the height of the war,” she said in an awed voice.

“Let me just check the other one.” Grams went to the axe-wielder. “Yes, he has one, too. Very strange. These are incredibly hard to make and here are two of them. Definitely not ordinary thugs.”

“Kind of makes you wonder who sent these men,” Arden said with a sideways glance at Lindon's grandmother.

“That it does, Arden, but those questions are going to have to wait until we can get to some place safe.”

Lindon could hear Arden’s approach. He didn’t want to look like such a wimp in front of the man by crying, but he just couldn't stop. All he could see was the man’s face as he had smashed in his head with the club.

“It’s never easy to take the life of a man—nor should it—but listen to me, Lindon. It was either you or him.” The grim tone of his voice brought Lindon some comfort.

“Before we go, Lindon, I want to tell you one more thing, and it’s not something you're going to like. You will have to kill again—and probably many times. If you don't, or if you hesitate, you and your grandmother will be dead. This isn't a game; there are people out there tying to kill both of you.” Arden's voice had no doubt in it.

Lindon looked up at Arden, stunned that he might have to kill again. Then, with the realization that this isn't over and that people would want to hurt or even kill his grandmother, he found the courage to pick himself off the ground.

With a newfound determination, wiping the tears with his sleeve, he walked over to the man he had killed. Looking down at him, Lindon no longer felt sympathy for the man. Arden was right, he didn't attack this man; this man attacked him. There was a long sword on the ground, but he left it. There was no way that his slight build would ever be able to swing something that large. Instead, he pulled a curved blade off the dead man’s back, thinking it would do. He pulled the scabbard over the dead man’s head and slipped it over his own.

Feeling much better about the whole event, he turned to his grandmother. With a determination he'd never had before, he said, “I will never let anyone ever hurt you for as long as I am alive.”

Seeing that this was something the lad needed for his own confidence, all she said was “thank you.” It was not the time to tell the boy that he was the one they would all die for.

Turning to Arden and with a firm voice no longer trembling, Lindon said, “Lead on, we've been here long enough.”

They started down the path to who knows where.

Even with his newfound determination, Lindon was still having problems with what had happened. He was reassured with Arden’s knowledge and the fact that Lindon had killed in self-defense. He reached up and felt the grip of the curved sword. Another thought came to mind: It was the same as the men who attacked Arden at the market. He didn't attack those men; he didn't even have a weapon. If he didn't defend himself, though, he would have been dead. Thinking further, if Arden was dead, there was a good chance both Grams and Lindon would be dead, too. Lindon didn't think he would have been lucky twice. That giant axe would have made quick work of him.

Trying to put it out of his mind and to concentrate on his surroundings, Lindon picked up his pace to catch up. He gave both Arden and Grams a curious look when he came up behind them, trying to piece together how the two of them knew each other, for as far as he knew they had never met. However, from the way Grams had greeted Arden and the way they were talking now, it was clear they do know one another, like old friends.

“Now that they have found you,” Arden said to Grams, “he's not going to give up looking. You know that, don't you?”

“What I don't understand is how they were able to find us,” Grams said.

Arden, with a quick look back at Lindon, said, “That would probably be my fault.”

Grams just looked at Arden, waiting for him to explain.

As Arden was telling Grams what had happened in the market, Lindon trailed behind, hoping Arden would leave out the part where he had witnessed the fight, not wanting to explain to Grams why he didn't tell her. 

“I left town shortly after, hoping that if someone came, they wouldn't find me there. I came down to the pass to watch and warn you if they were coming.”

“It was a nice thought, but one of his wizards sent a shadow,” Grams told Arden.

“I thought something like that happened when I saw you coming down the path.”

Lindon was trying to be silent, hoping they might say more about who was after them, but he noticed a faint red glow coming from a tree on the side of the path. Thinking it might be important and having learned his lesson about keeping secrets, he decided to speak up. “Grams.”

Cora turned to Lindon, who was pointing at where the glow was getting brighter. At first, she didn't see what he was pointing to and was about to turn back, but she felt the disturbance. Before it could finish materializing, she sent power into it, breaking the summoning.

“We have to hurry. How much farther to the trail?” she asked Arden.

“Not much farther, if we run for about five minutes.”

Lindon was going to argue that Grams couldn’t run that distance when she took off faster than he thought she could possibly move. She never ceased to amaze him. Lindon had no choice; he had to run as fast as he could just to keep her in sight. Arden was already in front, leading the way. Having been up and down this path many times and never seeing anything, Lindon was curious as to what trail they were talking about.

Lindon came around a bend in the trail and had to stop quickly, almost running into Grams and Arden.

“This is where we leave the main path. It's very steep, so watch where you are going. There is a rope to help hold on to. When you go over the edge, there is a ledge about three feet down. Lindon, you go first; Cora, you’re second. I will hide our tracks.”

When Lindon went through the brush at the side of the path, he almost fell over the cliff when he felt someone grab his cloak from behind.

“No need to try to take the shortcut to the bottom; we're not in that much of a hurry,” Grams calmly said.

Looking down the cliff, all Lindon could do was nod his head in agreement. After finding the rope Arden had said was there, he started to slowly go over the brink, feeling for the ledge that was supposed to be there.

Lindon was not overly eager to start down the trail—if it could even be called a trail—the ledge was barely a foot wide and the rope looked like it had seen better days, but Grams was starting to come over the edge, leaving him with no other choice but to start moving.

With the sun going down, Lindon began to worry that they would have to continue on in the dark. Arden had joined them about ten minutes after they had first gone over the edge, and they had been slowly inching their way down the rock face for a couple of hours.

Lindon was just about to say something about the coming night when the rope seemed to end. When he got closer, he could see that there was a large cave where they could stop. Coming around the corner and onto flat ground, Lindon gave a quick look around to see if anything was waiting for them. With the day he was having, he was not about to let something surprise them.

Helping his grandmother into the cave entrance only intensified his resolve to do everything he could to protect her. He led her clear of the edge and helped her find a rock that she could rest on. With as tired and as sore as he was, he could imagine that she must be completely exhausted.

When Arden came around the corner to the cave, Grams tiredly got up from her seat and walked to the edge of the cliff. As she was standing there, Lindon could see the red glow that he was sure meant magic. This time, it wasn't just a burst of energy; it was more like a weave—it seemed to extend outward from Gram's staff and over the entire opening.

As Lindon watched the process, he could feel what was being done. As he watched, it felt like he was being pulled toward the weaving.

“Lindon, stop!” Grams shouted.

As soon as he heard her, he pulled his thoughts back.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied—just like he used to do when he was little and was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

Grams turned back to the weaving, looked at it for a bit, then turned back to Lindon.

“No harm done; now we can speak normally and not worry about sound carrying down the valley, or prying eyes looking for us. However, Lindon, try to stay away from the edge.”

Arden was peering intently at Lindon with a thoughtful look on his face as Lindon's grandmother took her seat.

When she sat back down, Grams said to Arden, “I think we will stay here for a while, let them worry about where we are. They might think we slipped past them, giving us some time to come up with a plan of where we can go.”

“That's probably the best way to go for now; it will also give me some time to start teaching Lindon how to use his weapon, so he doesn't cut off a leg or some other body part that he may need in the future,” he said, giving Lindon a wink.

“Good, then that's what we will do. For now, though, I think we can get a fire going and have a hot meal.” Grams said
.

“Um, Grams, if there are people looking for us, wouldn't a fire give us away?”

“No, that’s part of what I was doing over there; I have made a ward that will make the outside of this cliff to look like just part of the cliff face. Even if by some chance someone found the ledge and followed it down here, the cave would appear dark and empty.”

Lindon thought about it for a minute but couldn’t really understand how it was possible or how it worked, but he was too hungry and tired to bother asking more about it. He trusted his grandmother, and if she said that it was okay to have a fire, then a fire he would try to get started.

He started to stand when it dawned on him. How were they going to have a fire when they were on the side of a cliff face? Where would he find the materials?

Arden pointed over to one side of the cave and said, “There is a stack of wood behind those rocks.”

It almost seemed like he knew that they would be staying here and had spent the time to supply them with everything they might need. There was definitely something more going on here that he wasn't being told. But for now, he would just leave it alone and see if they would let more slip about what was really going on.

He approached the pile of wood and was surprised to find not just a little wood but enough to last several months. Wanting to ask but somehow knowing that he wouldn't get a good answer, Lindon decided not to say anything, instead choosing to simply watch and listen to learn the truth.

While Lindon was busy starting the fire, Arden was preparing the stew that they would be having for dinner. Lindon looked over at Grams; she was busy inspecting the two stones that they had picked off the dead attackers. Lindon thought back to the fight, thinking of his actions. He no longer felt the grief of taking the life of the man. Arden was right; he didn't go looking for a fight—it was they that came looking for it, and it was either them or him.

Tomorrow Lindon would ask Arden to teach him how to use the sword; if there were people looking forward to hurting or killing them, he wanted to be able to keep his promise to protect his grandmother even if sometimes it didn't seem like she needed it.

Chapter 4

After having breakfast of bread and leftover stew, Lindon worked up the courage to ask Arden to start his training. “Um…Excuse me, Arden,” Lindon tentatively asked, holding his sword before him.

Arden looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I hope you don't mind, but can you teach me…?” The words felt stuck in his throat.

Arden stared at the boy. Lindon had never felt this nervous before under the dead-eyed stare of the man. Inside, he was shaking; his stomach was gurgling, threatening to expel the morning's food. On the outside, however, was determined to do whatever it took to learn all he could from Arden and no amount of shaking or vomiting would change his mind.

After what seemed like an hour but was really only about a minute, Arden reached into his pack and pulled out some oil, a cloth, and a sharpening stone. “Sit,” he said.

Lindon sat on the rock next to Arden.

“The first thing you need to learn is how to care for your weapon, no matter what type it is.” He handed the items to Lindon.

“First thing you want to do is clean any blood or dirt off the blade. If you leave it dirty when you start sharpening, you will scratch the blade and will not get a good sharp edge.”

As Arden was demonstrating with his own blade, Lindon was following along, trying to do exactly the same with his own.

Once he was confident that the blade was completely clean, Arden grabbed another sharpening stone out of his pack. “Now you want to keep the stone angled just so and with smooth strokes, you want to slide it along the edge like this, but your blade is curved so you have to follow the curve, keeping the stone on the same angle.”

Lindon watched the process a few more times, then tried to emulate the strokes of the stone. At first, he didn't get it right and was dulling the blade. Soon, though, he was running the stone along the curved edge of the sword, and the blade was getting noticeably sharper. The thug that had owned the blade before hadn't kept the best care of the weapon.

After about half an hour of sharpening, Arden stopped Lindon. Taking the blade from him, he gave it an inspection and, satisfied that the blade was sharpened sufficiently, he handed the blade back. “Now the finial step is to oil the blade to prevent rust from forming.” He poured some oil on the rag and rubbed oil all along the blade. Lindon mimicked. When he was finished, he was surprised to see that with just one good cleaning and sharpening, the sword looked in much better shape, and Lindon promised himself that he would follow Arden's example and always care for his weapon.

“Before you put the blade away, check the scabbard and make sure it’s clean.”

Resting the sword on his knees, Lindon looked over the scabbard. It was in decent shape and clean. He slid the blade in.

Arden sauntered to where the wood pile was and brought out a stick roughly the size of his sword, and with his knife started to shape it more like a blade. Looking at Lindon, he said, “Don't you think you might like something to fight with too?”

Lindon went over to the pile and started to look around for something that was as close a shape to his sword as he could. After finding a suitable piece, he brought it back to where Arden was working on his makeshift sword. There was another knife on the rock he had been sitting on, so he sat down and proceeded to whittle the wood into as best of a sword shape as he could.

After a couple of hours of carving, Lindon was satisfied with his work. It wasn't exactly the same, but would be close enough. As he went to stand up, suddenly Arden swung his wooden sword directly at his head; with barely a thought Lindon threw his body to the side, just avoiding getting his head crushed in.

He came to his feet, leery that he would be swung at again.

Arden said, “Lesson one: Never let your guard down; always be ready wherever you are or whoever you're with. You never know from where an attack can come from.

“Now your stance: You want to stand in such a way as to be balanced. Never overreach and become off balanced.”

Lindon tried to do what Arden was saying but with the sword's weight, he couldn't seem to stay balanced. Again, Arden swung the wooden sword at his side, but this time, he was too slow to get out of the way and received a stinging blow to his ribs. Then, thinking that he wouldn't be attacked again until he recovered, Lindon was surprised when Arden advanced again, swinging his sword again and again. Sometimes he could get out of the way, and even a couple of times blocked it with his practice sword. For the most part, he used his body to stop the blows.

After many hours of the one-sided fight with Arden barking what Lindon was doing wrong as he would swing the next blow, Arden finally stopped the fight and said, “That is enough for today. Think long and hard on what happened today and what you need to do tomorrow. Practice in your mind how you stand, how you block, where your body needs to be to avoid the attacks. Remember, you do not have the strength to block head on, but you do have speed, and that is your greatest advantage. Get faster, or you will be dead.”

With the beating that Lindon had taken today, he could barely eat the meal that Grams had prepared. It seemed every muscle was strained and sore. He had bruises on top of bruises; there wasn't a place on his body that didn't hurt.

Lindon was about to go to bed when Arden suddenly said, “Before you go to sleep, clean your weapon. I know it is a wood sword, but get in the practice of cleaning and sharpening; do whatever you have to do to make sure it's ready at all times.”

With a groan from his aching body, he picked up the wooden sword, sat down on the rock, and proceeded to wipe it off with a cloth. After he was done, he learned it up against the rock he was sitting on, picked up his real sword, and took it to his bed laying it down beside him within easy access, he started to go to sleep but found that he couldn't. His mind was racing with the fight, every blow, and how he reacted to them. Slowly, he started to think of ways that he could have blocked or avoided if he moved this way instead of that way. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would do better, maybe even get a shot in and give Arden a taste of what he felt today.

The next weeks turned out to be pretty much the same, with Arden systematically beating Lindon from head to toe. His body just didn't want to move as fast as he wanted it to, and as a result piled up more bruises. His hands were blistered so badly that there were times when blood would ooze out. Lindon never once complained about it. Every night, his grandmother would rub ointment on his hands and the numerous cuts or scrapes he was accumulating.

Over the weeks, the sound of wood on wood replaced the sound of wood on flesh. Exactly one month from when they had started Lindon heard the most satisfying sound: landing a solid blow to the ribs of Arden and hearing the crunch of wood on flesh that wasn't his. He was smiling from ear to ear, but had learned the hard way not to let his guard down. Thinking that Arden might not share his enthusiasm for landing one on the teacher, Lindon consequently prepared for the attack he was sure to come. Arden just broke out in laughter. “Well done, Lindon, that was an excellent counter. I didn't expect it, and that’s what made it perfect.”

Lindon turned to Grams, thinking that the fight was at an end, but got a strange feeling and without a thought, brought his practice sword up to block the blow that was coming. For the next ten minutes, the two were evenly matched; Arden's skill matched Lindon's speed  and the battle ended in a draw with no blows being landed.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Lindon sat down and started to clean his practice sword. Arden came up to him asked to see the sword. Handing it to him, Lindon wondered what he wanted it for and was surprised to see him throw it into the fire along with his own.

Arden walked over to Lindon's bed bent and picked up the real sword, then returned to where he was sitting. Still not sure what was going on, Lindon accepted the sword from Arden.

“It is probably too soon for this, but we cannot stay here forever. Tomorrow we will be using real blades, because when we leave here you will be fighting for your life, and you have to be ready. If all you have used are wooden swords, you will not be in the right state of mind when we are attacked.” The tone in Arden's voice did not encourage argument. “Understand?”

Looking down at the sword, then up to Arden, “Yes” was all Lindon could say.

Lindon realized how much he had learned in the past month. He had been hoping to learn more about who was after them, but training had taken all their time and being tired and sore didn't leave them much time for chatting.

Grams had spent most of her time maintaining the barrier that seemed to limit any sound or smoke being seen from beyond their camp. When she wasn't doing that, she spent her time in meditation. Lindon was quite surprised to find that she no longer looked old; she had transformed into appearing middle aged. It didn't happen overnight, but every day she would meditate, shedding years from her face and body.

She had shown no sign that she had any problems with Arden's plan to start training with real swords tomorrow. Lindon found that the strangest part of the whole thing, especially after all the years she had spent being overprotective of him. He had always been watched rather closely, and had rarely been allowed to be out of her sight.

Lindon wasn't sure of what to make of Arden either; he had been training with him for a month and still didn't know any more about him then he did before. Every time he would try to talk to him, Arden would simply start a new training session and would never talk about anything other than battle. There was sadness about him; something in his past that threatened to overwhelm him if he let his guard down.

Being no closer to understanding anything new about the situation, Lindon decided the best thing he could do was to go to sleep knowing that tomorrow was going to be a tough day . He was not only worried about getting hurt (or worse), but what if he got lucky again and accidentally killed Arden—where would they be then?  Seeing no way out of it, he drifted off to sleep.

Once Lindon had gone to sleep, Arden and his grandmother checked on him to make sure he was sleeping before they started talking, knowing that he was a sharp lad but didn't want him to know too much about what he would have to face when they finally left their little sanctuary.

“Do you think it’s wise to use real swords?” she asked, with a concerned look.

“I don't really know if it's wise, but it is necessary; I have never come across anyone like Lindon. It’s only been a month of practice, and already he is nearly as good as I am,” Arden answered, shaking his head. “It is truly amazing. He shouldn't be able to come anywhere close to being able to hit me, and yet the move he made today not only scored a hit on me, but if it had been a sword, my guts would be all over the ground.”

“And you want to use real blades!” she stated with disbelief. “Isn't that a little dangerous?”

Arden gave a rueful chuckle “Not as much as going out into the world unprepared. If he doesn't practice with the real thing, he might make a mistake that would cost him his life. The only way to make sure he is ready to face the challenge is to train with steel.”

“What about the other thing? Have you figured out what he did to the protective barrier?” Arden asked in a hushed tone.

“No I haven't; by rights I shouldn't have to renew it every day, but whatever he did it’s draining. I even tried to dissolve it and start again at night when everyone should be sleeping to minimize the chance anyone is looking. However, it doesn't make a difference. Everyday I have to put power back into it.” She looked thoughtfully at Lindon's sleeping form.

“We will just have to wait and see what all he can do. He has shown no signs of having power nor has he in all the time we have lived here. The prophecy doesn't say much about it either, only that when the time is right he will meet his destiny.”

Cora and Arden didn't say any more.