Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II

by Geoffrey C Porter

  "Is he some kind of Golem?"

  Simon laughed. Then everybody laughed. "I'm real!" Luther shouted.

  "And stronger than the lot of us, if you piss him off," Jason said.

  The sergeant pointed at two blond haired boys. "These are John and Bill. The third boy is Michael."

  "What's your name?" Luther asked.

  "Will you remember it if I told you?"

  Luther shook his head.

  Lieutenant Garther kicked his heels into his horse. "I'll guard the finish line."

  The sergeant produced a rope, and Simon took one end. They formed a line. Boys slowly motioned their horses to the rope. Simon said, "We'll drop the rope. That's not your signal. When I shout, go like the blazes."

  Luther nodded.

  The rope dropped.

  Simon howled like a great wolf upon seeing a new moon. Every boy in the line kicked his horse's rump. They bolted across the field. Luther was smart enough to squeeze his legs together to stay on top of the horse. He bounced up and down until he pushed himself up in the stirrups. All the boys were howling like mad. Luther leaned forward and shouted in his horse's ear. "Faster! Faster!"

  Jason crossed the finish line first, but John and Luther passed the line at the same time.

  The men cheered.

  Boys started hopping off horses. Luther followed.

  "We've got eight. That's perfect!" Garther said.

  The sergeant reached down to Luther and touched his shoulder. "We've had seven so long, it's nice to have an eighth, even if you did come from nowhere."

  "Knowing Juxta, he had to bring the boy out of Hell or something."

  "Quiet down all of you," Simon said. "The boy's mother is a priestess, and she was protecting him from Balron and Rivek. Juxta never even met the boy until a few weeks ago."

  The adults produced wooden swords from a barrel near the field. The sergeant said, "Line up."

  Luther gave him the best ever confused look.

  Michael stepped forward. "I was littlest before today, so you line up against me. I won't hurt you."

  "Standard trial rules, gentlemen," the Sergeant said. "A touch with the blade is a point or a head shot that knocks your opponent backward. Their steps must falter!"

  Great, Luther was about to get punched. A nether part of his soul called out, duck!

  Simon yelled, "Begin!"

  Michael advanced swinging his sword kind of slowly at Luther's neck. He knew it was a trick, but he committed to blocking it anyhow. The wooden sword changed direction mid-motion and turned down to Luther's hip. His blade moved as well, and the blow was countered. Michael pulled back and aimed a piercing blow to Luther's heart.

  "Try to go on the offense, too, don't always be on the defense," Simon said as Luther parried the blow aimed at his heart.

  Luther took a swing at Michael's head. He blocked it.

  "That's the way," Simon said.

  The boys and wooden swords parried and thrust for what seemed like hours.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simon shouted, "Water!"

  The eight boys ran to a nearby well and pulled up a bucket. They drank their fill. The sergeant produced a wineskin, and the adults passed it around.

  "Let's head back to my house," Simon said. "I want to show Luther something."

  Jason and William mounted their horses. Simon lifted Luther onto his.

  On reaching Simon's house, they tied up their horses at a trough. Simon pushed the doors open to the barn. Luther stared in awe at various sizes of blocks of iron with handles attached to them.

  "Our edge," Jason said.

  William embraced one of the bigger chunks of iron and curled it. "Three days a week."

  This was how these other boys were so big and bulky. "You want me to simply lift these weights with no thought to purpose or form, but to lift?" Luther asked.

  Jason shrugged.

  Luther smiled wide. "Show me how."

  The other males grinned with glee.

  At the end of the day, William took his horse and Luther's horse back to the castle. Luther walked home. Life was good. For the first time, not only was he home, not only did he have two parents, but it's possible he even had friends.

  * * *

  Juxta went to the blacksmith, with five gold coins from Weslan left over from their journey. He banged on the door. The smith was easily fifty, with gray hair but strong, thick arms.

  "I need swords," Juxta said, "fine blades, of excellent workmanship."

  "You're going to forge them into arcane devices?" The smith asked.

  "Do you have blades for me?"

  "I'm old, and I have no sons."

  "Your daughters have sons of their own, maybe?" Juxta asked.

  "Their fathers have no interest in smithing. One is a Ranger, the other loves to farm the earth."

  "I have gold for the blades. Show me your best work."

  The ancient smith sighed. "There are other smiths."

  "You're the best. I have five gold coins."

  The smith turned to a bench. He put his hands on each edge and wiggled the whole bench away from the wall. He reached behind it and withdrew a sword still in its scabbard.

  "This is Rok-Ta. It's longer than a typical blade, but it's also lighter. It has a tiny bit of adamite that was left over from when I forged a blade for the prince."

  Juxta took the blade and pulled it from the sheath. The sunlight etched along the razor edge.

  "I need four more just like this one," Juxta said.

  "Too bad."

  Juxta slid Rok-Ta back into its case. "Five gold coins, enough to retire."

  The smith closed his eyes and shook his head.

  "Rok-Ta will be gifted to young Prince William, when he's older," Juxta said. "Another blade for my son, and one for Simon's boy, Jason. The other two I will give to King William, for him to give to his best men."

  "I can't promise I'll finish four blades. I could easily keel over."

  Juxta held out a gold coin. "Take it for this blade. Work on the others."

  "The fastest I can forge a blade of quality is a month, and I'd rather take two. People come by the shop and want things, and they need them today, always."

  "Bar your door."

  "They'll come in through the window if they have to," the smith said.

  "Two months, and I'll come for the next blade."

  Juxta returned home. He spent most of his time replicating the copy of the parchment from Weslan. Lisa seemed content planting a good sized garden. Within a week, the scroll was ready with the spell on it.

  He found Lisa and Luther. "I want you to watch."

  Juxta held the blade in his right hand and read the scroll out loud. Power raged in his heart, stronger than last time. The paper started to burn from the top down, and Juxta read the words, trying to keep his pace steady. Thunder cracked off in the distance. The page burned. Juxta read the final words on the document. He cut into his left palm with the blade.

  The wizard fell to the ground and gasped for air. Lisa and Luther ran to him to try to lift him up. "I'm fine," he said. He pushed himself off the ground. "Fetch me something metal, something old, Luther."

  The boy ran. He returned with a rusty nail and held it up.

  Juxta took the nail in one hand. He touched the arcane blade to it, and it cut through to produce a clean tip of bright metal. Juxta cut it again and again. "I have to go see William."

  "Go," Lisa said.

  Juxta hopped on his horse and rode to the castle. He walked straight to the throne room.

  William was not there. Nobody was around. Juxta went to the main dining hall. Music was playing, and people were dancing. Juxta pushed his way to where William was sitting. His face lit up. "You're carrying a blade. I've only seen that happen once before."

  Juxta held out Rok-Ta. "For the prince, when he's old enough to need it."

  "Twin to mine?"

  "No lightning, but it'll cut metal."

  "Splendid," the King
said. "Have you had dinner?"

  "No."

  "Dine, there's plenty."

  Juxta stopped to have some of the meat.

  The queen reached over and touched Juxta's hand. "Thank you for the blade for William. I know how Rangers value your work."

  "Just doing my duty, Teresa." Juxta turned to William. “My king, the blacksmith who forged this blade lacks an apprentice. Maybe after the Ranger trials.”

  “It would be a sad day if his secrets are lost with him,” King William said. “I'll see if I can't find an extra lad or two for him after the trials.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Over the next year, Juxta forged four more of the arcane blades, and the blacksmith acquired three apprentices to teach and put to work. By the end of that year, Luther could mount a horse, beat some of the other boys racing on foot or on horseback, and on good days, score points against both Jason and William.

  Two more years passed. Luther grew strong and fit.

  One night, Luther, Juxta, and Mom were having dinner.

  "He should be studying Druidic and Ancient," Juxta said.

  Lisa shook her head. "He's not old enough to study those books, and you know it. Let the boy be a boy."

  Luther didn't care about what they were saying. One more passing of the seasons and it would be time for his trials. And the seasons turned quickly.

  Spring trials came. Luther knew it wasn't going to be his time, but it was all Jason and William spoke of, and they talked about it with a glow of bloodlust in their eyes.

  Blue skies filled the horizon on that fateful day. Juxta, Mathew, and Simon were down on the field. Almost all of the boys were stocky and muscular, as if Simon's secret weight training was known far and wide.

  Mom and Luther sat in the stands. A hundred or so boys lined up in two rows with wooden swords in hand.

  King William signaled to the horn blower: a single note bellowed, and the boys began to dance with their sticks. There were no injuries, and Jason and William were among the victorious. The boys lined up again with the shortest runners in the front. Luther's friends were in the middle of the pack.

  The horn blower sounded again, and the people in the stands cheered. Boys howled, charging forward and pushing their way past the smaller runners. No one was trampled underfoot, and the shoving was not as bad as previous years. Senior Rangers passed out chits to the first half that made it to the line. Jason and William both put their chits in pouches.

  The contestants mounted horses and thundered across the field. William clearly had a fast horse, and soon distanced the pack. Jason's horse broke his leg. Jason crashed into the hard earth. He pushed himself off the ground, dusting himself off.

  They picked out bows and quivers. The devices were all the same, but the boys picked from smallest to largest. Seven hit their mark at 50 paces--William and Jason among them. None could hit the mark at 60 paces. The boys who were holding three or four chits howled.

  Luther ran out of the stands to his friends. "You made it!"

  William raised one eyebrow. "You had a doubt?"

  "When Jason's horse fell, I did doubt."

  Five sergeants were shouting. "Hold up your chits!"

  Each sergeant picked out which boys were joining their troop. Jason and William ended up with different sergeants. Luther returned to the stands. Juxta and Mom were waiting for him. He whispered, "One more season, then it's my turn."

  "Yes, dear," Mom said.

  "Last three or four years, the boys have just been getting bigger and bigger," Juxta said. "It's uncanny."

  "We lift weights, Dad," Luther said.

  "I don't understand."

  "Simon owns these iron weights with handles, and he makes us lift them over and over."

  Juxta shrugged.

  King William shouted over the crowd. "Juxta, dine at our table tonight."

  "Aye, my liege," Juxta said.

  The food was good. Musicians played. Luther danced with the other boys who were around. No, he danced with Jen, Simon's daughter, who was only a year younger than he was.

  Now, when Luther trained with the other boys, he was the biggest, fastest, and quickest with the blade. He talked constantly of the upcoming trials. It was all he spoke of.

  The night before the trial he didn't sleep. The roosters stirred him from his room. Mom cooked breakfast. They had oatmeal, eggs, and bacon.

  "The trials are today," Juxta said.

  Luther's eyes mostly glazed over.

  Juxta added a dash of pepper to his eggs. "No need for you to attend. It's time you read some books on summoning mage power."

  The boy's heart stopped for an instant. Juxta was joking. The look on his face was not one of jest, though.

  "I've trained for all these years..." Luther said.

  "I always thought the Ranger training would serve a Magi well," Juxta said, "in case his magic ever failed him, or he needed to hunt up dinner."

  "We've discussed this," Mom said.

  "Yes. Luther doesn't listen. His training as a Magi starts today."

  Luther's insides crumpled like a parchment being dropped in the fire.

  "It's possible," Juxta said, "that William would allow you to compete, to find out if you could have won."

  A tear escaped Luther's eye. "I would have won."

  "I've really no doubt. You've been so focused. Now it's time to focus on other things."

  Luther ran. He ran from the house out into the plains that stretched around Lynken. Ran until his legs burned. He collapsed on the ground and cried. He closed his eyes and wished for darkness to overtake him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Juxta withdrew his scrying orb. He saddled two horses, and Lisa and Juxta galloped after Luther. The boy couldn't hide. The thunder of the animals made Luther open his eyes.

  "How did you find me?" He asked.

  "I'm a Magi, boy," Juxta said.

  "You understand being a Magi is your destiny?" Lisa asked.

  Luther wiped tears out of his eyes. "I want to be a Ranger."

  "It's up to your father. When you have children of your own, you'll decide their fates."

  What a shit rule.

  "Come along, I'm expected at the trials," Juxta said.

  Juxta turned his horse and kicked it into a trot.

  Luther ran to the practice grounds. Youths were finishing sword battles and would soon be running. The last of the wooden swords clashed, and the king shouted, "Footrace!"

  * * *

  Jason and young Prince William were training at Raleg. The fort had been home to the Rangers for the last thousand years. Youths from their troop had been digging wells for three weeks. It seemed like a pointless endeavor.

  Day by day, the boys practiced moving as a group in battle, following a Codex of Arms from some bygone era, with each new page detailing new moves to be added to the mix. As it stood, they were stepping forward, cutting downward, then blocking high to the left, then right, then thrusting forward, then repeating it over and over.

  The day came when it was Jason and William's turn to dig the wells. Jason found it odd that he was being sent down at the same time as the prince. Most of the time, sergeants and lieutenants went out of their way to keep them separated. They were digging four wells in total. Two boys Jason knew were getting set up to work the other two wells. They donned leather vests that locked around their armpits. Typically, cadets were lowered into the wells for periods of eight hours, filling up baskets with dirt while boys on the surface pumped air to them, and pulled up the dirt baskets.

  Jason's stomach was knotted when they lowered him down. He looked up to catch the tools that were to be lowered to him. Instead, some kind of disc blotted out the light above. He was trapped in a damn pit, and so deep, no way could he dig out sideways.

  This was not as it had been for the other boys. They had repeatedly been told that the time spent in the well would help shield their minds from the death stare of a Necromancer. Jason reached up and felt the rope att
ached to his back. Climb up and out. Simple.

  He climbed for a few moments before his hands reached oil. Bastards. He settled down in the mud. He tried to calm his thoughts. Rest, and wait it out. But he could not. His thoughts raced. Would he die in this pit of darkness? When would they let him out? Was there something they wanted from him? Or for him to do?

  Prince William fared no better. Why hadn't his father warned him of this? Did spending time in this muddy pit, truly protect the mind from a Necromancer? He climbed up the rope a few feet but soon ran into greasy oil.

  They had a bit of light from a candle, although William's was barely an inch tall. Jason stared into the flickering dance. Soon William was in darkness. He began to sing dirty songs of his own invention. The pits were maybe five feet across, and the only way to get comfortable was by lying in a fetal position in the mud. Sitting upright with their backs to the wall of the pit also worked pretty well.

  The sun set, but the boys in the pits had no way of knowing. After a while, they realized it was time for rest, and they tried to get comfortable.

  Jason needed to pee terribly, and he had a little bit of candle left. He dug out one corner of the pit, peed in the hole, and buried the mess. Prince William went through the same process, only in darkness.

  The lids came off the wells, and the boys in the pits screamed and hollered. A package was lowered to each young man, including a lit candle inside a hooded lantern. Jason set the lantern down in the mud and opened the package. A few slices of the duck/pig animal, bread, two fresh apples, and a flask of something. He ate all the food and drank the liquid: it tasted like sweet, strong wine. It made him drunk while his heart raced as if he were running.

  William got a similar package, but with only an inch of candle. Neither boy understood how this ordeal would protect their minds. Their thoughts teetered on the brink of madness for what felt like an eternity. Was this the end? Had they been tricked?

  The next day, the lids came off, and the boys were hauled to the surface.

  "What you have to understand," the lieutenant said, "is it works. Boys of Lynken have gone through the trial of the pit for a thousand years, and it works."

  Jason and William headed to the lake to wash up.