The Whetstone Fist 2

by Brian K Declan

  The Whetstone Fist

  Episode 1

  Brian Declan

  Episode 1: Last Time

  Whatever happen after drinking from the Well of Radiance, Lock had no idea. Either his memories were lost, or he passed out. Regardless a lot of time must have passed. The first thing he noticed was the pre-dawn sunlight. The next thing was that he was on a bed that was way too comfortable to be the bundle of blankets he normally slept on. That meant he must be in one of the spare bedrooms of Lord Stanwick’s Mansion.

  Leon was right, receiving his Blessing was easy but he failed to mention what sort of abilities he would get. Regardless, that was a problem he could figure out at another time. For now, he had something else to attend to, his aching stomach. Comfortable bed or not he had to find some food.

  He threw aside the blankets, and immediately realized he was butt ass naked. Once the shock of that wore off, he also noticed that he was clean, and his wounds had healed at an alarming rate. That or he’d been asleep for a lot longer than a few hours.

  A quick scan of the room and he found a fresh stack of cloths. A pair of maroon trousers with a cream button down shirt, the colors of house Stanwick. He would have preferred not to wear the colors of any house, but it was better than walking around naked. Besides, there was a higher priority. Food.

  Luckily all he had to do was follow his nose… and one of the Lord Stanwick’s maids.

  “Excuse me, what was your?” asked Lock.

  “Rebecca milord,” replied Stanwick’s maid with a quick curtsey.

  “Thanks Rebecca, but I’m no lord. Just a lucky fool,” said Lock.

  Rebecca started to speak then stopped, “Sorry, my mistake. I meant no disrespect…”

  “No worries. I can’t imagine Magister Tempo owes many favors to fools like me,” said Lock, “Mind showing me to the kitchens?”

  “There’s a spread laid out in the dining room. This way,” said Rebecca then she let out a nervous bit of laughter.

  Lock thanked her again and let her lead him to the dining hall. Instead of making her more uncomfortable Lock decided to keep his mouth shut as he followed her through the halls. Before he knew it, Rebecca held open a pair of double doors, “Here we are.”

  “Thanks,” said Lock as he dipped inside. Clare was already there along with a handful of what looked like other initiates. All of them were dressed in Lord Stanwick’s colors.

  “Finally woke up I see,” said Clare as she walked over with a plate full of some sort of little sandwiches.

  “How long was I asleep?” asked Lock.

  “I was just teasing you, most of us couldn’t sleep after getting our Blessing,” said Clare.

  “Most of who?” asked Lock.

  “The other initiates. The ones that passed at least. Wait, you didn’t get your head bashed in by that mean guy, did you?” asked Clare.

  “No. I mean kind of but I’m fine. Just hungry,” said Lock.

  Clare twisted to the side to hide her plate behind her body, “Don’t look at my food.”

  Lock flashed a smile then used Flash Step to snatch a pair of sandwiches off of Clare’s plate and downed them two quick gulps, “Hank ou.”

  Clare shoved him and pulled her plate away again, “The table’s full of food. Get your own.”

  As if responding to her jest, Lock’s stomach rumbled, “Yeah good idea.”

  After hearing that Clare lead him past the food table and even offered to carry an extra plate of food for him. Once they were loaded up with some food, Clare led them to a couple seats so they had some space to exchange stories about their last encounter.

  As it turned out Clare had a similar but far less violent question session with Cassandra. In the end she earned what was called a Searing Blessing. It gave her some ability to summon fire or use fire. He didn’t know enough about Blessings to understand fully.

  “I thought you wanted a Light Blessing,” asked Lock, “Ya know like the rest of your family?”

  “Eh,” said Clare, “Fire’s close enough. Besides, my dad knows I can control something like that.”

  “Fire does sound pretty cool to me.,” said Lock, “Better than Temporal anyway. I don’t even know what it means.”

  “Better than Temporal?!” blurted one of the initiates that was apparently listening in on their conversation, “You must be joking, Temporals can use Spirit mana and that is far superior to any other type.”

  “Sod off Ruffus,” said another initiate who seemed to think he was also part of the conversation, “You only think Spirit mana is powerful because of the Santi’s.”

  Well that was a good bit of information. It was well known that the Santi family did not earn their position simply by birth right or political maneuvering. They did it because they were strong, or they possessed a strong and unique Blessing. Spirit mana might have something to do with it. That was good news to him.

  Without warning the double doors slammed open. Then a sudden snap brought silence to the room and pulled Lock from his thoughts. When he looked up Magister Tempo was standing by the entrance to the room with the other two Magisters who Lock could not remember.

  “That’s much better,” said Tempo into the silence, “Congratulations Initiates. Our gracious host, Lord Dmitri Stanwick, has a few words for all of you.”

  The two Magisters held open the doors and in walked Lord Stanwick. He was wearing an elaborate cloak and an almost identical set of clothing to what most of the Initiates now wore. Fitting, considering they were his house’s colors.

  Stanwick flicked his cloak off of his shoulders; “Today you have all earned great honor for yourselves and your families. You have my congratulations.”

  Stanwick paused to look around at the faces of the Initiates, “Earning a Blessing from one of the twelve great deities is no small feat. But it is only the first step in a long journey. The next is to be properly trained and for that I offer my support.”

  Stanwick motioned to one of the Magisters, “For those of you who pledge to be one of my retainers there are aurabands,” and the Magister held up a handful of aurabands much like the one they were given before the Initiation.

  Next he motioned to Magister Tempo, “And enrollment forms for WayStar Academy. Tuition and housing will be taken care of as well as a monthly stipend of fifty talents.”

  “Regardless of what you choose, you are welcome to eat your fill and stay as long as you like. My doors are open to you, and good luck,” said Stanwick then he spun on his heel, swished his cloak out like a fan and left the room.

  As the doors slammed shut, Magister Tempo stepped up to address the room, “Lord Stanwick’s offer is a generous one but I encourage all of you to take time to consider all of your options. One weeks from today Lord Santi will be holding his tri-annual games. The games are an opportunity for the Blessed of all skill levels to showcase their abilities and in turn attract a patron. I am sure some of you do not require any support, but the games are also a great way to gauge your own skill level.”

  Tempo took a step back and to the side giving the stage to one of the other Magisters Lock did not remember, “For those who do not remember me, I am Magister Cadence. You are all eager to go test out your new powers so I will be quick. Lord Santi’s games feature three challenges for the recently Blessed.”

  Magister Cadence paused to hold up a finger, “One will focus on applying brute magical strength.”

  He added a second finger, “Two will focus on finesse.”

  Last he flipped his hand over to add a third finger, “Third is a test of speed.”

  Cadence dropped his hand and folded it neatly behind his back, “Prepare as best you can and good luck.”

  With those final words the room bro
ke into dozens of little bits of chatter. Lock’s brain was exploding with information. He had to find a patron, get training, and prepare for tests of some sort. On top of all that he had some sort of paperwork to fill out. Maybe Magister Tempo or Clare would be willing to help him with it.

  “Planning to take Stanwick’s offer?” asked Clare.

  “Huh, ah no. But that paperwork I was going to get one. What about you?” said Lock.

  “Heck no, my parents would kill me if I became a retainer. It might be a good option for you though,” said Clare.

  If she had been so blunt twenty-four hours ago Lock would have been offended but now, he was getting used to her straightforward nature. Besides she was right, he was poor as dirt and she was not. Regardless, he was not about to make a decision without talking to his dad first.

  “I’d like to see what happens at the games first,” said Lock.

  “Good call, if you do well with even one of those challenges, I’ll bet Stanwick will make a better offer,” said Clare.

  Better! Stanwick already offered fifty talents a month, that was over five times what his dad made in a month and she’s saying you could get more just from doing well on a few simple tests.

  It was time to start training.

  Chapter 1:

  Lock laid on his back and stared up at the mid-day sun. Then a knot of rage and frustration formed in the pit of his stomach. He slammed his fist into the ground, “Dammit!”

  His father Flint leaned down and offered him a hand up, “I say we try my idea.”

  “I told you I’m dizzy enough afterwards. How am I supposed to keep my balance if I can’t see,” said Lock as he took his father’s hand.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” said Flint as he dangled a small strip of cloth in front of Lock’s face like he was taunting a dog with a piece of meat.

  Lock ignored his father’s wide grin and snatched the strip of cloth, “Fine but only so you shut up about the stupid blindfold.”

  Flint clapped his son on the back, “That’s my boy. And since you’re already pissed off,” Flint paused for dramatic effect then poked Lock in the chest, “You’re welcome in advance.”

  As he tied the blindfold over his eyes Lock took a few slow breaths so the knot in his stomach would relax. When he stopped feeling like he was going to puke he reached for the power swirling throughout his body. That was his mana. It had always been a challenge to manipulate but since he earned a Blessing from one of the twelve great deities controlling it was as easy as walking.

  Triggering his ability, Temporal Slide, was like taking a deep breath. Mana surged from the pit of his stomach, swirled all around his body, then in an instant he teleported. From the outside that fraction of a second it might seem easy but for Lock that fraction of a second was torture. Every fiber of his body was flipped around and turned inside out like he was caught in a raging hurricane then suddenly he was dumped back on solid ground.

  It had taken a full week of practice to simply not throw up every time.

  He let out a slow breath to release the last bit of tension in his stomach then focused on his target, a flat patch of ground ten yards in front of him. Without his eyes to guide him he created an image in his mind then triggered Temporal Slide. The ground shifted under his feet, but he was quick to catch his balance.

  Several seconds passed before he realized what happen. He slid and didn’t feel like the world was spinning. As soon as he realized what happen so did his father, “Hoo Hoo, Whoo’s the best? I said, Who’s the best?”

  Lock pulled off the blindfold only to find his father doing a little jig with an even wider smirk than earlier.

  “Come on son. Help me out here. Hoo Hoo, Who’s the best?” continued Flint.

  “You’re the best,” answered Lock with a complete lack of emotion.

  Flint stopped dancing but kept his smile, “You’re no fun. So, what’s next?”

  “I have to Slide farther, and I have to be able to do it without the blindfold,” said Lock.

  “Oh come on dumby, that’s easy just close your eyes. And who cares how far you can go, you’re not running away are you?” asked Flint.

  “That’s… actually a good idea. But no I’m not running away. I have to hit a target that’s… I don’t know how far away. But I do know it’s more than ten yards,” said Lock.

  With blinding speed and grace Flint scooped up a pebble and flicked it at Lock. The pebble hit him square in the chest, “So throw something.”

  “That’s not what it’s about. It tests my spell amplification or something,” said Lock.

  “So you have to punch the target?” asked Flint.

  Lock stared at his father expressionless, “No dad. I have to hit it with magic, but I can’t figure out how to throw magic.”

  “So that’s why you have to punch it?” asked Flint.

  Lock nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah pretty much.”

  “I still don’t understand why you don’t use Flash Step, always helps me punch what needs punching,” said Flint.

  Lock huffed out a breath, “How many times do I need to explain. I have to use mana and according to Clare, Flash Step doesn’t use mana. Stamina based abilities won’t be tracked.”

  “Oh yeah Clare. Tell me more about her,” said Flint with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.

  Lock threw his hands up, “Really dad?! You’re supposed to be helping me train with this Temporal Slide.”

  All sense of levity drained out of Flint’s face, “Think you can use that trick of yours to keep up for once?”

  Lock cracked his neck and settled into a low guard, “Think you can you fight fair.”

  “Fighting isn’t fair,” replied Flint right before he took off with his version of Flash Step and kicked up a cloud of dust in his wake.

  Another day, another loss, but his true failure did not come at the hands of his dad. That honor was all his own. He’d always known that his greatest weakness was his understand of mana. Or lack of understanding and now that weakness was manifesting itself in an inability to use his Blessing.

  His best chance to overcome that weakness was to get a proper education but that cost money. Lots of money. Money that he did not have. His best chance to get money was to prove he was worth investing in. But to do that he had to show he was able to use his Blessing.

  It was a fucked up loop. Do well and you get money, but to do well you needed money. Money. Money! Fucking money!

  “Cheer up sourpuss, you didn’t lose that bad,” said Flint from the bottom bunk of their one room shack on the outskirts of East Stanwick. Their little neighborhood was called Greenside, not that there was a lick of green in sight. Mud, dirt, and grime, all of those were plentiful. But Grimeside made it sound too much like the shithole it was.

  “I know, and I’m not a sourpuss. I’m tired,” replied Lock as he stopped staring at the ceiling and rolled onto his side.

  “Still, you did pretty good. Used that Slide thing what ten times in a row, while in Flash Step I might add,” said Flint.

  “Five, and then I threw up. Thanks for the reminder,” said Lock.

  “Just saying, that’s more than I’ve seen. Jumpers usually burn out after two or three,” said Flint.

  Lock sat up and accidently bashed his head into the ceiling, “Ah dammit.”

  “You alright up there?” asked Flint.

  “Fine,” said Lock as he rubbed his head, “What do you mean more than you’ve seen before? And what’s a Jumper?”

  Flint paused just a little too long before answering, “Nothing, just something I heard while on patrol. Forget about it.”

  Lock rolled on his side and punched his pillow to fluff it up, “Yeah, patrolling Bruno’s arena.”

  Before the word’s left Lock’s lips, his head bounced into the ceiling again, “Watch yourself boy. That was a long time ago.”

  A long month maybe.

  What could Lock say? Every time they docked the guard’s wages, dueling was the way hi
s dad could put food on the table.

  Silence was Lock’s only answer. He knew his father well enough to know the conversation was already over. Flint Sharp didn’t answer questions from anyone, least of all his son. And he would never admit that, long ago was probably not long at all.

  Chapter 2:

  Lock tugged at the sleeves of his borrowed shirt, it was beyond tight and just a tad too short. Heck it was hard to find normal cloths that fit him, finding something nice was near impossible. No complaining though; he was lucky one of his friends owned something that didn’t look like it was made from a burlap sack or home tanned hide. He’d have to deal with the discomfort and hope that he didn’t rip the darn thing by flexing. Besides he was lucky enough to have the perfectly fitted pants that Lord Stanwick gave him after his Initiation. He could have worn the matching shirt but then he’d be advertising that he was one of Stanwick’s men.

  He was not Stanwick’s man. Not yet anyway. And certainly not if he fucked up today. If he did just okay, he had no other choice but to accept Stanwick’s offer, but if he did well maybe a more respectable Lord would give him an offer.

  Lock tugged on the sleeves of his shirt one last time then walked up to a group of guards manning the gates of Lord Santi’s Estate. As he approached one of the guards split off from the group and came over to him, “Where are you headed?”

  “I’m here for the games. I was invited,” replied Lock with as much confidence as he could muster.

  “Uhuh, what’s your name,” asked the guard.

  Lock ground his teeth in an effort to stay calm. He did not need anymore trouble right now, “Matlock Sharp, I just earned my Blessing.”

  “Where’d you say you were headed?” asked the guard again.

  For a moment Lock considered Sliding past the gate just to piss off the guard, but before his temper got the better of him, another guard stepped between them, “Stop giving the kid a hard time.”

  “Whatever, it’ll be your ass not mine,” said the original guard as he walked back to the group of guards.