Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II

by Geoffrey C Porter

  Chapter Eight

  Days passed while Juxta led the troop along a well-traveled road. Hunters came and went, and somewhere along the way, Luther learned that the men clad in leather armor wielding bows were Rangers, every one. They passed a line where the vegetation changed. The trees became older, and there were no more of the teardrop-shaped fruit trees that were so prominent before.

  Juxta patted Luther on the leg. "This is as far as the life-magic reached."

  Life-magic? Juxta was strong enough to breathe life into trees this far west of Lynken's capital and over a week's march from the north into Lynken? One man, not a God? Not some kind of deity? Luther's father? What did that make Luther?

  He shrugged the thoughts off. Not a magic user, he told himself. Lied to himself.

  One of the Rangers and Simon rode up to Juxta's wagon. Simon spoke first. "There's actually a small city north of this road. The crossroads is coming up. They may give us better prices than Weslan's capital and have more to spare."

  "Bresden, yes. I've seen the crossroads many times but never turned that way," Juxta said.

  The man with Simon spoke for the first time. "Boring community. All they do is farm and brew ale, but without a single pub."

  Simon laughed. "Maybe you can get a few kegs of ale with the foodstuffs, seed, and animals."

  "Take a quarter of the coins," Juxta said. "Ten wagons should be enough and twenty Rangers."

  The odd man grabbed a few Rangers, and they took the coins. Through all of this, the wagon train didn't even stop, and they came upon a crossroads. There was a sign on the left side of the road. It read, "Badlands." The sign on the right pointed to "Bresden." And one pointed forward that said, "Weslan."

  "Why aren't we going into the Badlands?" Luther asked.

  Mom said, "Because they're bad."

  "But why?"

  "Going into the Badlands is suicide, Luther," Dad said. Wait, Dad said? No, Juxta said.

  That still didn't answer his question. He looked from one of them to the other.

  "Men who go there don't return," Mom said. "Sometimes, if a soldier loses his lover, he will travel into the Badlands to put an end to his existence. We don't want to go there."

  There had to be more to it. But he didn't press the issue.

  Three or four more days passed. They came to another crossroads. This time there was no road to the south, only the north. The sign said, "Neesle."

  Simon and a Ranger rode up to Juxta's wagon.

  "It's almost sunset. Let's camp here," Juxta said.

  "Neesle is a pretty big farming community as well," Simon said.

  "I'm aware, but I don't like sending men off with no spell casters."

  "We're in Weslan. Other than our wars, they haven't known any wars."

  "Ten wagons, a third of the coins," Juxta said. "Ask them to head north in the morning."

  They built fires and roasted meat. Luther couldn't help but notice they had passed countless farms since the edge of the life-magic but never stopped to barter. He asked about it.

  "We need cows, pigs, and chickens," Simon said. "Plus grain. These things will slow us down. We want to make good time to Weslan; then we have a slow run back to Lynken. On the way home, we'll barter at every farm."

  Within a few days, in the distance, great towers reached into the heavens. Luther was pretty sure he was looking at the capital of Weslan. A bit of a haze rested at the base of the towers, likely from cooking fires below. The city took shape the closer they got to it. A dust storm kicked up, and Luther knew it was from riders. A group of twenty men on horses approached.

  The lead man wore a brown tunic and carried a staff with a diamond on top. Unlike most men, he didn't have a blade. Juxta stood up in the wagon and shouted, "Kirl!"

  The other man shouted, "Hail, Juxta!"

  The distance closed between them. Simon said, "We've come for food. Seed. Livestock. We brought gold."

  "The blight destroyed everything?" Kirl asked.

  "About half of Lynken was destroyed, yes, but you wouldn't believe what stands there now."

  "A great forest?"

  "How did you know?" Juxta asked.

  "Just a guess," Kirl said.

  "Trees grow in Lynken now with fruit that is teardrop-shaped and sweet," Juxta said. "I brought seeds, over a hundred. They seem to bear fruit earlier in the season than apples, and it may mean earlier harvests. I have experimented with drying the fruit, but so far I can't get it right."

  "The seeds you bring as a gift or in trade?" Kirl asked.

  "A gift, for Weslan. There are so many of these trees in Lynken one could simply walk there and get as many seeds as one would want."

  "Have you written down the process you went through?"

  Juxta shrugged. "There really isn't anything to tell. I killed one too many evil creatures, and I became death. Death magic poured out of me. I countered it with the life-magic. I called upon the trees for strength. The same chants as to create a mage staff."

  "I'll make sure it's archived," Kirl said, "and that every Magi in the land knows to tell your story to their apprentices."

  "We need to get to the livestock and seed. Much of Lynken is surviving off of this new fruit, and it may run dry," Simon said.

  "We can't spare a great deal, but we'll give you a fair trade. Let's go into the city proper."

  Chapter Nine

  The caravan stopped their wagons at the edge of the city in a grassy field. Kirl seemed to notice Luther for the first time. "Who is this? He has your eyes, Juxta."

  Juxta pulled Luther close in a hug. "This is Luther. Our son."

  "You never told me you had a son."

  "Lisa hid him from Balron and from me."

  "Well," Kirl said. "He's too young to learn magic. Is he six?"

  "I'm eight!" Dog.

  "Let me see how many coins you brought."

  Juxta pulled a blanket off to the side, and the coins shined brightly in the afternoon sun.

  Kirl picked one up. He said some kind of chant for a few moments. "We can take these, but you don't have enough wagons."

  "Just what I wanted to hear, my friend," Juxta said.

  "Some of these coins we need you to exchange for Weslan coins, so we can trade with farmers on the way home," Simon said.

  "I have a favor to ask," Juxta said, "while we're here."

  "What is it?" Kirl asked.

  "Many years ago, when I was a boy really, I forged two blades to cut metal. The scroll was lost years ago when Rivek invaded."

  "We have a scroll, titled Cuts-metal, but it doesn't work."

  "I'd like to see it."

  Kirl said, "I'll open the archives."

  "First the seed, and livestock, and a few extra wagons," Simon said.

  "Yes," Juxta said, "of course. They need the seed in Lynken more than I need the scroll."

  Kirl waved his hand. "These men will summon farmers and collect wagons. Juxta, Lisa, and Luther need to come with me. The High Council demands it."

  Juxta, Lisa, and Luther climbed off the wagon, and Kirl led the way deep into the city. Luther looked up into the sky at the towers stretching into the heavens. Two armed guards stood at the main entrance, and they moved out of the way for Kirl. They walked through passageways. Finally, they reached ornate oak doors with strange symbols carved into it. The symbols were not the common language or the marks of the priests of the One True God.

  Luther reached out and caressed the tired wood. A shiver raced up his spine. "What are these symbols? There's power in them."

  "You'll learn, in time," Kirl said.

  "Answer my question."

  "The symbols are a long-dead language called Ancient. When you're 14, you can study it."

  "I started at 12," Juxta said.

  Kirl pushed the doors open and stepped into a great chamber. Windows lined the walls to provide light and air. The ceiling was sky.

  A bench sat at the opposite end of the hall. A number of mostly ancient and tired
old men waited behind it. Each man had a staff either at his side or in his hands. Kirl shouted, "Juxta has a son! Luther!"

  The Council spoke in hushed whispers for a few moments. Kirl knelt down in front of Luther. "Approach them. Keep your head up."

  Luther did as he was told. The Council began to chant again in the same manner as Kirl did with the coins. A kind of tingling went through the boy's veins as the words caressed his soul.

  One of the men behind the bench sighed. "He's the same as his father. Doom upon our land."

  Another of the ancients buried his face in his hands. "No. He's stronger."

  How could he be stronger than a man who nearly destroyed the world?

  Mom stepped forward to stand beside Luther. "He's our son. Damn your prophecies."

  Juxta appeared on Luther's other side. "Even if he does get caught up in dark magic and death, he'll know to simply call upon the life-magic to counter it."

  "He could become the world's most powerful Necromancer, and make Rivek and Balron look like weaklings," one of the men said.

  "He won't. I'll teach him life-magic. There aren't even enough Necromancers left to teach him."

  Luther knew in his heart he'd turn to the One True God before turning to Necromancy.

  Juxta spoke in a loud, clear voice. "Are we finished?"

  An elder Councilmember chuckled. "No, we need to discuss prophecies and doomsdays for at least another three days."

  Kirl slammed his staff down on the stone floor. "We're finished."

  Juxta turned and walked. The others followed him. They went straight to the archives. It took almost an hour of searching, but Kirl pulled out a frayed, old parchment. Juxta unrolled the top of it and stared. His eyes drifted around, and he may even have pranced about a bit.

  "This is it," Juxta said.

  "But it doesn't work," Kirl said.

  Juxta clapped him on the shoulder. "Because you have to copy it, you old fool."

  "I'm not that old."

  "Can I take this back to Lynken?"

  "After calling me an old fool?"

  Juxta raised one eyebrow. "You're what, three hundred winters old?"

  "I'm 273 summers old, and you cannot take things out of our archive."

  "Can I copy it?"

  Kirl nodded.

  "We've got to rejoin the others," Juxta said, "but only to send them on their way. We are staying in Weslan for a while."

  "Your family is welcome at my house," Kirl said.

  "Thank you."

  Chapter Ten

  Luther and his mom were sitting quietly in the wagon. Luther wished he had something to read, even a religious scroll. A whistle sounded.

  Luther looked. Jason stood there with wooden swords propped against his shoulders. "I've come to play, and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

  Luther shook his head.

  "You have something bloody better to be doing?" Jason asked.

  Mom said, "Go on, Luther."

  He climbed down off the wagon. A wooden sword was thrust into his grip. He took it and smiled. Why, he didn't know.

  "First we race." Jason pointed off into the distance at a tree. "You see the tree with the pink flowers?" He shouted up to Mom. "Give us the go, ma'am, when we're ready."

  Luther was about as ready as he was going to be. Jason bent at the middle and pushed one leg behind him. Mom shouted, "Go!"

  Jason took off. Mom said, "Run."

  Luther ran his best. Well, he could have pushed himself harder, but he didn't really see the point in any of it. Jason danced at the base of the tree. "You run like a girl."

  "Piss off."

  "Let's fight." Jason took a swing at Luther's sword arm. He didn't even try to block. The blow hurt, like Jason meant for it to hurt.

  "You're never going to pass the trials if you don't work," Jason said.

  "What trials?"

  "Only the most important trials in all of Lynken."

  Luther shrugged. He turned and started walking back.

  Jason grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. "We're not finished. You'll fight me like a man, or I'll turn you into a woman."

  Luther shoved Jason, hard. He didn't fall, though. He just grinned and took another swing at Luther's sword arm. This time, the boy did react, and their blades met mid-strike. Jason pulled back and then pierced forward into Luther's left shoulder. Luther was surprised at the other boy's speed and failed to block.

  Jason shouted, "Point!"

  Luther took a swing at Jason's head, but the bigger boy ducked under it, and poked Luther in the gut, hard again. It hurt bad. Like you wouldn't expect a mere wooden sword to hurt, but Jason was putting his whole weight behind each blow.

  Luther tried to rain a hit down on top of Jason, but the latter simply dodged out of the way, smacking Luther on the leg at the same time.

  They exchanged blows for a time, and Luther started to learn how it was done.

  Jason ducked down low under a swing again, put his sword between Luther's legs, and moved as if to cut upward, although never touching the other boy. Jason howled, "Now you're a woman!"

  The colors in Luther's vision changed. Everything took on a red tint. His heart pounded in his chest. He raised his sword up high and brought it down harder than ever before. Jason had no time to dodge. His only option was to block.

  "Stop!" Jason said.

  Neither boy noticed at first, but black tendrils of poison crept into Luther's fingers as he rained blow upon blow on his opponent's sword. Jason couldn't hold against his attacker's strength, and his blade was pushed down onto his shoulder. Luther didn't stop. The only thing in his vision was Jason's sword and a will to destroy it.

  The blows rained down over and over, each one faster than the last.

  "Quarter! Damn you!" Jason shouted.

  The rivers of darkness reached into Luther's forearms, and he did, in fact, notice them. He paused in his onslaught to look at his hands. Smoke as dark as a moonless night bled off his fingers.

  Jason pushed himself off the ground. "You're the doombringer!"

  "No. I can control it." Luther thought back to the life-magic that once coursed through his veins. Breathe in. Breathe out. His hands stopped smoking.

  "Your hands are smoking, and you can control it."

  "You still live."

  Jason spat on the ground. "If I had a piece of steel in my hand, you'd be bled out already."

  Luther looked into the other boy's eyes. He saw fear, but behind that was comradery and friendship. Both boys smiled.

  "We can be friends," Jason said. "But you've got to study for the trials. And no more magic."

  "Friends. Yes. I think Juxta will want me to study magic."

  "It's too risky, wield a blade."

  Jason moved into position again to run, with his right leg behind him and knees bent. "We run back. Go on three."

  Luther mimicked the runner's stance.

  Jason shouted, "One, Two…. Three!" And took off at a run.

  Luther ran too, and with the magic still boiling in his veins, he made it back to the wagons first.

  Mom looked at them. "You're not finished already. Sunset isn't for hours."

  "We've just come back for bows and arrows, ma'am," Jason said.

  Bows and arrows? Luther thought.

  Jason snatched the wooden sword out of Luther's hand, and moments later, a bow was shoved into those hands. Jason said, "Hunt or targets?"

  Neither? "Targets, for sure."

  Jason produced a wooden wheel with circles painted on it in white and red.

  "You travel with this stuff?" Luther asked.

  "You don't get how important the trials are."

  Maybe he would learn.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jason raised his bow high. "Back to the tree!"

  Luther chased after him. Luther made no attempt to outrun the other boy, and Jason was encumbered by both the target and a quiver of arrows. He leaned the wooden disc with circles on it against th
e tree and started counting steps away from it.

  After about twenty, Luther said, "That's far enough."

  Jason was putting his foot down heel to toe with each step. "Fifty is better. At the trials, it'll be fifty steps by a full grown man."

  "Oh."

  Once Jason finished, he pulled three arrows out of the quiver and stuck them loosely into the ground. He then set the quiver off to the side. The bow was in his left hand. Quickly, he grabbed arrows out of the dirt one by one, firing them at the target. Each landed within a hand's breadth of the center. He ran to retrieve the arrows and returned.

  Luther was kind of confused and knew the other boy was going to expect him to do the same thing with the arrows. And as if by thinking of it, he summoned it, and Jason said, "You do it."

  Jason held out the three arrows. Luther took them in his hands. The shafts were straight and true, but the feathers could have been tidier. Good enough, he mused. The points were not barbed, but still sharp as almost any pointy stick could need to be, with metal tips. Luther stuck the arrows into the ground as he'd seen his friend do. He tested the string once in the bow, and it was tight.

  The first arrow was readied.

  "Draw a line along the arrow to the target," Jason whispered. "It'll drop in flight, so aim a little high."

  How high is a little high? Luther pulled the thing all the way to his cheek. He aimed as he was instructed. Let loose. Cathunk. Into the target, but maybe a few inches away from the edge.

  Jason jumped in the air once and clapped his hands. "Do it again!"

  Luther pulled the second arrow and took aim. A rabbit hopped into view on the edge of his vision. Without a thought, Luther's aim transferred to the rabbit, and he launched. No sound traveled as the bolt pierced into the rodent's flesh.

  Jason said, "We're not hunting."

  "I didn't think I'd hit it."

  "Still, that's dinner for your family tonight."

  Luther smiled.

  Jason picked up the third arrow and the quiver. He walked towards the target and the dead animal. "You ever taste fresh blood?"